Thursday, November 10, 2011

Last thoughts on Woody Guthrie

It’s afternoon in another country, in a friend’s small apartment with a music system that seems bigger than the room. Outside seems shut out and it’s quiet inside. The poet’s uncertain voice stammers to a start and rolls and tumbles along taking you on a ride through the rollercoaster life with its sham and skullduggery, cheapskates and cheaper thrills, political plotting and character assassination among hope and sunset that doesn’t feel like the end. It leaves you quiet for a while. You hear it again. And let it sink in slowly as spreads into your consciousness, leaving a trail that gets covered with your workaday life over time only to resurface, suddenly. Like today.

Friday, November 4, 2011

Engengo sellum

Another June morning, another beautiful day with soft rain and gentle sunshine. As you walk to school, past the tea shop with its customary morning customers, you scan the odd sizes posters hung from clips on a thread under the counter with big jars of candies and biscuits, carefully avoiding the puddles, you hear this song coming from the radio set. The songs is soft and gentle too, you notice, blending seamlessly with the June morning. People look happy, girls look prettier, the day promises nice surprises. You actually look forward to going to school!