Saturday, September 5, 2009

Right Field

by Willie Welch (1986)
Right Field - Performed by Peter, Paul & Mary (1998)

Saturday summers when I was a kid,
We'd run to the school yard and here's what we did,
We'd pick out the captains and we'd choose up the teams,
It was always a measure of my self esteem.
Cause the fastest, the strongest played shortstop and first,
the last ones they picked were the worst.
I never needed to ask, it was sealed,
I just took up my place in right field.

Playing right field, its easy you know,
You can be awkward, you can be slow,
That's why I'm here in right field,
Just watching the dandelions grow.

Playing right field can be lonely and dull,
Little leagues never have lefties that pull,
I dream of the day, when they hit one my way,
They never did, but still I would pray,
That I'd make a fantastic catch on the run,
And not lose the ball in the sun.
And then I'd awake from this long reverie,
And pray that the ball never came out to me.
Here in ...

[solo break]

Off in the distance, the game's dragging on,
There's strikes on the batter, some runners are on,
I don't know the inning, I've forgotten the score.
The whole team is yelling and I don't know what for,
Suddenly everyone's looking at me,
My mind has been wandering, what could it be?
They point to the sky and I look up above,
And the baseball falls into my glove!

Here in right field, Its important you know,
You gotta know how to catch, you gotta know how to throw,
That's why I'm here in right field,
Just watching the dandelions grow.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Chickpea to Cook

By Rumi
(translated by Coleman Barks) This is not the complete poem, some verses were edited and taken out.

A chickpea leaps almost over the rim of the pot
where it's being boiled.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

The cook knocks him down with the spoon.

"Don't you try to jump out.
You think I'm torturing you.
I'm giving you flavor,
so you can mix with spices and rice
and be the lovely vitality of a human being.

"Remember when you drank rain in the garden.
That was for this."

Eventually the chickpea
will say to the cook,
"Boil me some more.
Hit me with the skimming spoon.
I can't do this by myself.

The cook says,
"I was once like you,
fresh from the ground. Then I boiled in time,
and boiled in the body, two fierce boilings.

"My animal soul grew powerful.
I controlled it with practices,
and boiled some more, and boiled
once beyond that,
and became your teacher."