Love in Vain ( originally written by Robert Johnson, and altered by the Rolling Stones)

 Love in Vain ( originally written by Robert Johnson, and altered by the Rolling Stones)

Well I followed her to the station
With a suitcase in my hand.
Yeah, I followed her to the station
With a suitcase in my hand.
Whoa, it's hard to tell, it's hard to tell
When all your love's in vain.

When the train come in the station
I looked her in the eye.
Well the train come in the station
And I looked her in the eye.
Whoa, I felt so sad so lonesome,
That I could not help but cry.

When the train left the station
It had two lights on behind.
Yeah, when the train left the station
It had two lights on behind.
Whoa, the blue light was my baby,
And the red light was my mind.

All my love was in vain.
All my love's in vain.

This song, aside from being one of the most beloved blues songs of the icon Robert Johnson, was adapted by the Rolling Stones who contributed to its meteoric rise in popularity.  However, when closely examining the style of the song one can see how well the repetition of lines enforces the deep, raw heartache accompanied by the loss of a love so completely consuming.  The tone exposes the listener the listener to the void left by the absence, and the feeling not of being torn asunder, but of being drained instantly of the conviction that is part of such a strong feeling.  Now that the critical commentary is over, the fun stuff begins.  This song is awesome, in the literal sense of the word.  Such simple structure is rarely the basis of such profound depth and meaning, however American Blues gives the world a plethora of meaning with words that would not be out of place in a passing conversation, a brief catching up by friends in a bar, or a farm or factory floor.  The beauty of this style is its straight forward expression.  With no frills, no complex metaphysical conundrums to decipher, the song of the blues man (or woman) is truly penetrating.  The accoutrement that are found sewn onto the surface of many poems are frequently, in my opinion,  obstructions to the power of art.  Be it a overused color palette or an unnecessarily flowery diction, the garnishes of art are frequently overpowering.  Blues lyricists show the naked power of an appeal to human emotion unencumbered by such blandishment, found only in those souls daring enough to give freely of their hearts and woes, selfless enough to use their pain to craft something of comfort and grace.  This is why "Love in Vain" is a truly great song, and one that should be honored as a paragon of a truly American style. 

Link to YouTube of Love in Vain from the album "Let it Bleed"

Nothing Stays by Mark van Doren

Nothing Stays by Mark van Doren

Nothing stays
not even change,
That can grow tired
of it's own name;
The very thought
too much for it.

Somewhere in air
a stillness is,
So far, so thin-
But let it alone.
Whoever we are
it is not for us 

 This poem called to my ever-present fascination with the mortal, transitory nature of existence that the human condition ails us with.  Morose curiosity was not the only thing that drew me to one of Mark van Doren's most renowned works, however.  The structure of the poem seemed abrasive, as if it went against the grain of my mind.  It has a unique rhythm that I have never come across, a certain tempo to it that made me read it more slowly, more carefully.  The emptying world suggested by the first six lines brings to mind images of a black hole, consuming all into one space, bending and capturing even light in its race across the universe.  Ancient and unyielding, the laws of nature force all to succumb to the fragility of being.  There exists a place of repose, a sanctuary from all-consuming time, suggests the last half of the poem.  However, this place is a mirage, an El Dorado for man, who can grasp it as well as one can hold the wind in their hands.  A beautiful piece of art, this poem is one of my new found favorites, catalyzing my mind to philosophical wanderings and day dreams of eternity.

A Valentine by Edgar Allan Poe

A Valentine by Edgar Allan Poe

For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes,
Brightly expressive as the twins of Leda,
Shall find her own sweet name, that nestling lies
Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader.
Search narrowly the lines!- they hold a treasure
Divine- a talisman- an amulet
That must be worn at heart. Search well the measure-
The words- the syllables! Do not forget
The trivialest point, or you may lose your labor
And yet there is in this no Gordian knot
Which one might not undo without a sabre,
If one could merely comprehend the plot.
Enwritten upon the leaf where now are peering
Eyes scintillating soul, there lie perdus
Three eloquent words oft uttered in the hearing
Of poets, by poets- as the name is a poet's, too,
Its letters, although naturally lying
Like the knight Pinto- Mendez Ferdinando-
Still form a synonym for Truth- Cease trying!
You will not read the riddle, though you do the best you can do. 

      While scouring the web for an acceptably brief poem, I happened upon this work of Poe's and decided for today's sake to blog it.  On the surface the poem is a beautifully written dedication to a love interest. On the first read-through I had it pegged as another eloquent testimony to the expression capabilities provided by verse.  However, when I examined the piece further, the poem reveals itself as a testament to the inadequacy of the written word to convey the feeling of love, the fluid, unyielding force that has driven mankind to both its zenith and its nadir.  The author begs the reader to embrace the poem's every word, every syllable, all nuances and subtleties, trying to transfer the workings of his heart to the recipient with a medium that cannot suffice.  Poe is not belittling the intelligence of his love, but lamenting the confines within which he must work.  Even a master such as he is bound to the skill of his language, which cannot compare to the emotions we humans are blessed and cursed with.  In any event, happy St. Valentine's day to everybody. 

A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?


     They must have stole the idea for Inception from Edgar Allan Poe.  I mean, come on, a parted love who thinks that their partner is in a dream, a sandy beach, a dream in a dream, what else do you need for proof? In all seriousness this poem is an excellent work.  The words seem to flow like music through the mind when I read them, drawing my focus and letting me paint an imaginary canvas full of enigmas and confusion.  This poem is a testament to Poe's ability to make you question fundamental realities, an ability that helped him pioneer the mystery genre with newer, darker elements.  With the inclusion of a secondary figure to judge the speaker's insanity, Poe sets up the speaker's own doubts about reality.  the imagery of grains of sand falling through someone's grasp is a deft inclusion which, although late in the poem, helps to tear down the barely present structure in the poem's setting, undermining the world that the reader has already created in their mind for the poem. And, in destroying the creation of his own words, Poe allows his audience to fill in the blanks once more, this time with greater depth.  Masterfully written, and thought provoking, "A Dream Within A Dream" is classic Poe.