Bongo Poetry

[Aussie Mark]

Two batteries in
Turning knobs my face has smile
Warwick not compete

[T-bone]

What the hell is this?
Bovinehost has another?
His wife must love him!

tbone

[Aussie Mark]

With four band E Q
Spanning large sonic spectrum
Love Bongo long time

[Aussie Mark]

Beemer help design
Revolution bass guitar
Knucklehead likey

[SquidLizard]

Hey! T-Bone Tim!

Bongo rocks the house
Your Stingray sounds like a mouse
Eighteen volts right here



Sorry, babe, couldn't resist your "Stingray Challenge."

[T-bone]

Right on Lisa!

I'm not worthy

tbone

[JohnnyBoy]

Who said that all in verse has been said?
Your responses prove
despite all reports
that poetry just ain't dead!

See my latest posting on the guitars forum.

Louis

[T-bone]

Back atcha Lisa


Who needs 18 volts
Unless you're inadequate
It only takes 9


tbone

[TheStiffness]

Case:
Open lingering scent of new and babies.

Mmmmm... babies....
I have yet to be offered this fragrance when picking up my car from getting washed.
I'll stick to vanilla.... for now.

[JohnnyBoy]

Hi,

Babies, well...

This line meant /refers to the scent you get on opening a brand new guitar case, that combo of the fresh wood, paint etc plus the fabric (like new cars always smell that way);

also it takes time for things of quality to arrive - like a Rolls Royce you may have to wait a little while for a musicman guitar. So it's like an expected arrival.

All this may spoil the poem for you - take a little from what you think it exactly means, (your own meaning will differ from mine) but poems are like that - coming from that place the Irish Poet Seamus Heaney refers to as:
'a dream dreamt in the presence of waking'

that place just beyond the literal and everyday, to where the literal sense of words ceases yet strangely the meaning deepens. (I call this the "killer line")

For me beyond any description of features etc; after the waiting to receive the Bongos "Playing is believing" (akin to my visit to Niagara Falls a few years ago - not fully describable but understood by those who also experience)

We may have to ask Big Poppa to spray the inside of cases with a secret scent exclusive to Musicman (aka "Newborn Delight"?)

Ronnie sang "long live Rock n Roll" we say "long live Musicman!"

Cheers

Louis

[TheStiffness]

Hi,

Babies, well...

This line meant /refers to the scent you get on opening a brand new guitar case, that combo of the fresh wood, paint etc plus the fabric (like new cars always smell that way);

also it takes time for things of quality to arrive - like a Rolls Royce you may have to wait a little while for a musicman guitar. So it's like an expected arrival.

All this may spoil the poem for you - take a little from what you think it exactly means, (your own meaning will differ from mine) but poems are like that - coming from that place the Irish Poet Seamus Heaney refers to as:
'a dream dreamt in the presence of waking'

that place just beyond the literal and everyday, to where the literal sense of words ceases yet strangely the meaning deepens. (I call this the "killer line")

For me beyond any description of features etc; after the waiting to receive the Bongos "Playing is believing" (akin to my visit to Niagara Falls a few years ago - not fully describable but understood by those who also experience)

We may have to ask Big Poppa to spray the inside of cases with a secret scent exclusive to Musicman (aka "Newborn Delight"?)

Ronnie sang "long live Rock n Roll" we say "long live Musicman!"

Cheers

Louis

Newborn Delight!! Love it!

I read your other poems, that were posted in the Guitar section... pretty darn impressive.

Have you recorded any original songs, by chance?

[JohnnyBoy]

No finished songs with tunes, but I always get a few lyrics to add to every collection. Let me see what I have in my store for you, and I'll post one.

Meanwhile here's one for all you marrieds, partners, lovers out there. Make it a happy weekend, get the wine poured and enjoy together this one...


Do not go.

Do not go when spring is here,
and the greens buds freshening
fields of grass and rye.
The air cool for walks together
in the trees.

Do not go when summer enters
and the crickets chirruping
to the golden corn.
The lake is cool for swimming,
You and I.

Do not go if autumn winds
play catch with leaves,
all gold and fire.
A bench for sharing the fading sunset,
till stars appear.

Do not go as winter covers earth
in snow and ice hangs from the oak.
Remain under the duvet for love,
and Madeleines with tea.


From: ‘September Songs’
Copyright 2007 Louis J. Casson, Purple Squirrel Poems,
an imprint of Cryptic Furnace Press, Northampton.

Email Louis the poet on: johncasson57@hotmail.com

[Paul_C]

Northampton Bongo
Egyptian Smoke Number Two
How Interesting



P.