For Bob Dylan
I know I could have done better
I was never really taught
perhaps my father might have coached me
but he died
would life have been better
not being so distraught
not letting emotions overtake me
till I cried
when I was the begetter of
poetry that I wrought
not what my mother wanted
not what lied
I could have done it better
I was always very taut
in time my lover might have taught me
but she hied
without a father just a brother
battles were sometimes fought
intelligence outwits another
so I tried
to fight with pieces on a chessboard
blindfold without much thought
in a crowded cafeteria
where I vied
with a Scot called David Morton
who would still be a friend
we both aspired to better things
we both shied
away from mediocrity
away from the status quo
wanting what we did not know
in hide-bound Britain
when times they were a-changing
when we heard a poet a-singing his song
with a raspy voice that grew raspier
I’m still heeding his words
still hearing his song
I see him sitting close to the brazier
by red coals in the night
by a hole in the road
guarding what looks like a crater
his hat brim turned down
rain drips on his shoulders
runs down his arms
all while his harmonica plays
we could have done better
his song seems to say
but survival is living from day to day
come sit by the brazier
it’s all we have left
all around us is chaos
the gods have all left
come sit by the fire
continue his song
it’s too late to be thinking who’s right
who’s done wrong
take hold of the future
and wrench from the past
all that is good and worth saving
furniture well made in its day gets passed down
a weaver’s chair sits low to the loom
our sideboard came by covered wagon
who in the past could foretell this gloom
with the sky overcast full of smoke from the fires
rain drips on his shoulders and runs down his arms
into puddles clogged by all the debris
from the building that once was a library
so I freely admit I could have done more
but learning is lifelong so there’s time to do more
as our future unfolds and we learn what’s in store
we’ll take hold of the future
we’ve no time for the past
now we must build something that’ll last.
Dick Russell © Richard M Russell
2024
