Odes – An Occasional Story or Magazine

Ode to Bill Monroe

When I started this blog six years ago I posted odes. I thought that the blog would be mostly odes. I had odes to Victor Hugo, Woody Guthrie, Henry Miller, Duke Ellington, Willie Mays, plus a number of others. Not a light weight among them. I suppose I ought to put them in a category section. Anyhoo, here’s an ode to Bill Monroe – who is up there with the greats, in my opinion. I (not very cleverly or originally) strung together a handful of his famous song titles to compose a little ode. So, here’s an ode to Bill Monroe, the father of Bluegrass music!

You may be aware that I’m a bit fixated on these country songs.
So be it. I urge you to try these songs too. It’s folk music, and it’s great fun to play. Even though there’s no way to match the high, lonesome voice of the inimical Monroe – and also no way to match the mandolin picking, fiddlin’, or banjo playing of the Bluegrass Boys – still it’s great to try. It’s also a good thing to keep these songs alive, at least that’s what I think. As Willie Morton, one of the characters in my book says: “Keep playin’ that Country Music”.
To Bill Monroe

Bill Monroe’s fine voice
Has given me joy
Blue Moon of Kentucky
Keep on shinin’
Through Footsteps in the Snow
Past Rocky Road Blues
To a Kentucky Waltz
Thank you, Bill
For your High and Lonesome Bluegrass sound.

Now some folks like the summertime when the they can walk about
Strolling through the meadow green it’s pleasant there’s no doubt
But give me the wintertime when the snow is on the ground
For I found her when the snow on the ground

I traced her little footprints in the snow
I found her little footprints in the snow
I bless that happy day when Nellie lost her way
For I found her when the snow was on the ground

I dropped in to see her there was a big round moon
Her mother said she just stepped out but would be returning soon
I found her little footprints and I traced them in the snow
I found her when the snow was on the ground

Now she’s up in heaven she’s with the angel band
I know I’m going to meet her in that promised land
But every time the snow falls it brings back memories
For I found her when the snow was on the ground

Orion

Here’s to Orion

Champion of the southern skies

To Betelgeuse and Rigel

To all the stars, nebulae hs-2006-01-i-small_web[1]

And distant galaxies of his belt

To the dog star close behind

To the glory of the seasons

To the movement of time

We pause to think

We look up at Orion.

Ode to Willie Mays

I already sent this in to Frizz’ “M” Challenge (send in any thing that starts with the letter M). Check out Frizz and his challenge at Flickr. When I looked through my old blogs I saw this one An Ode to Willie Mays.

I grew up loving Willie Mays. My father was a Giants’ fan and so was I. Willie Mays was my hero. I would defend him fiercely on the block if someone suggested Mickey Mantle was a better player. I would always insist that Willie Mays was the best player in the world. And he was! Certainly Mays was the best I have ever seen. My father, who had seen many of the greats (his idol had been Mel Ott) seemed to favor DiMaggio over Mays. But not by much, he said. Mays was a beauty to watch. So here’s to Willie Mays, #24

Glori-oskie: The Glory Poems

Glory Glory/ To the Ragtime Chord Progressions/ Glory Glory/ To the music of the Seven Spheres/ Glory hallelujah to the magic of the golden mean/ Glory be the magic to our ears/ Glory to the Samba, to swing music and glory to the blues/ Glory to Rakatozafy/ Tumbling like a waterfall/ Singing of glory

Another Ode

To Charles Mingus

To Bill Monroe

To Pete Seeger

To Sonny Terry

And Brownie McGee

To the Beatles and Chuck Berry

To the Music of the Spheres

To Illusion

And to Truth

We raise our glass.

To Johnny Hodges and Duke Ellington

To the movements of the constellations

We watch

And we sing

An Ode to Victor Hugo

One hundred and twenty-five years
Since your death
(The funeral was attended by two million Frenchmen. I saw the photo)

The greatest, the grandest, the most prodigious writer of ‘em all
(he wrote 20 pages of prose or eight pages of verse every day)

An ode to Les Miserables and the glory of Jean Valjean

A star was created in the nineteenth century.
May you shine on in the winter skies, Victor Hugo

An Ode to Willie Mays

An ode to Willie, number 24, the
Say-hey Kid.
Hat falling off his head as he races
Toward the center field wall.

Dust flying as he slides into third base.
An ode to Willie Mays

Pure of spirit
Fast and sure-handed
A Giant power, a lovable
Master of the magic game

A joy to remember:
Willie Mays
My favorite player
The best I ever saw
Hats off to Willie Mays

A song to Henry Miller

A song to Henry Miller
To setting out on the road
To the spirit in the glass
And to the hand that raises it

To the future shining
Like the light of the sun upon us

To the days gone by
To their continuation
In us and all of ours

And the days go on
The years they pass by
Revolving
And the end is nearing
Yet it is not

So raise your glass again
To setting out on the road
To setting out on the light.