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Tag Archives: grief poems

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Geese: a poem-song

07 Wednesday Aug 2013

Posted by crowgirl11 in Grief Notes, Music, Photography, poetry, Uncategorized

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black & white, Canadian bands, Canadian music, catherine owen, crows, Diane Barbarash, experimental film, experimental music, geese, grief poems, grief songs, lyrics, mourning, musical duos, nature music, old film, poems, Poemsongs, shadows, songs, wires, women musicians, women singers

dry-valve-doorhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I2Vi0TEXlm4

by The Lyrical Outlaws, a renegade poem-song duo from New Westminster/Vancouver, BC.

They are Catherine Owen: poems/lyrics & alto/kooky vocals.

& Diane Barbarash: guitar & sweet/awesome vox.

Other tracks will contain bass, drums, recitation and so forth.

On Geese, Diane plays a Fender American Strat w/Bluebird mic. Catherine is using an AT 2020 Compressor mic and Studio One. The song was mixed by Diane using Adobe Audition. The video was shot by Catherine with a Canon Rebel and edited with Video Pad using the Old Film effect.

Geese (the poem)

They do not fly in that perfect vee of childhood/ Anymore, but in clumps, gristly bits, one or two shifting hard/ To sustain a rhythm amid electrical wires, others/ Falling into a slack skipping rope over the river./ And still the crying going on. /I told you yesterday I would write a poem/ That does not plummet once into nostalgia, /Just one, but it seems I cannot. /There is nothing in me that is not somehow/ Old & looking back, upon a child/ Who was already old & looking back too.

GEESE (the song)

1/They don’t fly/ in that perfect vee Of childhood/ anymore But shift hard/ to avoid this world A world they/should not see

CHORUS: Over the river they fly Between our wires & our towers And the crying going on And the crying going on.

2/I told you once /I would write a poem That has no sorrow/ for our loss in it But it seems I cannot/ give you this gift This eye/after the storm.

CHORUS BRIDGE: I see them hover/over trees and sun/ through rain and summer/never breaking this sad song.

3/I see the geese/ passing through As if I were/ a child who is/ already old A child/born from the cold And looking back too

CHORUS

These Days, I Only Know the World through Poems

25 Tuesday Sep 2012

Posted by crowgirl11 in Grief Notes, Photography, poetry, The Environment

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Tags

autumn, change, collage, death., garden photos, grief poems, survival.

by Catherine Owen

I sit and watch the garden die

 

I sit and watch the garden die

Late September morning

It’s simple really to do little

But think of death

That so much never even ripened

All that ready imagery

Thinking how long I may have

To wait to join him in the land of ashes

With no consolation of seeing his beauty once more

Of making our own particular music

Is not a happy pastime

But one I am unable to escape

Because that’s the way it is

When one choice leads to a grave

The other to a decision to persist.

So I couldn’t miss him more

Or know this means less

Than bringing in what is left

Against the cold.

Reincarnation Redux

11 Wednesday Jul 2012

Posted by crowgirl11 in Grief Notes, Photography, poetry

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Tags

birthdays., catherine owen, Chris Matzigkeit, crows, elegy, flies, grief poems, Jack Gilbert, poetry, video poems.

Crows also have birthdays. They wake to fog, to the hummingbird flitting above the heliotrope tree. All they want is what they want every day. Mostly. Black coffee, poetry, doom music, a view over the river, thoughts of possible flight and equally probable nesting zones. & perhaps a bit of subtle festivity. Not what it used to be. Three birthdays he’s missed now. There are consolations. But no replacements. Ever. Still content to be winged, beaked, to have a heart thrumming beneath the black.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DS5k8-yTpPU

by Warren Dean Fulton & Catherine Owen

The Poem [for Solstice 2012]

20 Wednesday Jun 2012

Posted by crowgirl11 in Grief Notes, Photography, poetry, The Environment

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Canadian poets poetry, grief poems, lungs. breath., poetry, poppies, solstice poems, sunshine, survival poetry


Image

by Catherine Owen

 

The poem breathes for you some days

It’s ok

The poem never says he isn’t, entirely,

Coming back

The poem has too many lungs to accept

Death completely

The poem, as it sings its dirge, notices

A poppy

Opening like a soft heart in the sun & then

The poem

Cannot tell you ever, with finality, it’s over

The poem takes your breaths for you

Some mornings

The poem is a lung

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