Part One Book Six Beachcombings from the Halling Valley Riverbank

A Chapter by Carl Halling

Book Six

Beachcombings from the Halling Valley Riverbank

First (Versified) Beachcombings

Some Sun Drunk Day He Said

Emotions war against sense

And his mind remains

A pot pourri,

And thoughts in his head

When he lies in his bed

Would make Dorian Gray

Appear pristine.

He wishes to moralize

On a corrupt example

Yet from the wicked cup

He hath supped a sample.

He appears to think in extremes;

He is beau-laid and realist

Whose inspiration stems from his dreams.

"Life is a beautiful strain for me,"

One sun-drunk day he said,

"But I pray I say what my soul needs to

Before the heavens decide me dead."

But his mind is a disorderly drawer

Full of confused categorizations;

He has that Scott Fitzgerald illness

For dates, times, rhymes and quotations.

"I have a clear flowing mind

But I cannot foretell

When the clogging black clouds will arrive,

For they will arrive.

Live with the love, then bear the pain

Recurrent like the monsoon rain."

He is afraid of happiness

For the inevitable despair that must follow it;

Afraid of happiness

For its cruel impermanence.

Like Zola, the seasons in life, for him

Are inevitable.

"All artists," he says, "are at once alike and unique

One day, it's clear,

The next, hazy, like a beery vision

The fulfilment that they seek."

Misty dreams of sweet-smelling roses

And swaying streams

Bring him chills and pains in his soul and being;

He lives his life through a melancholy tragedy

And has an ever-yearning mind.

Bouzingo: The Gathering of the Poets

The boy was aged about eighteen,

Pale and pensive,

Weary and frail in appearance.

He could have been

Goethe's Werther,

Senancour's Obermann

Or Chateaubriand's melancholy hero,

Embraced by a generation,

And about whom Sainte-Beuve said:

"Rene, c'est moi."

Tortured by a new mal du siecle,

He sought refuge

In the Club Bouzingo.

Two young poets,

One dark, the other fair,

Drifted past. The first,

Whose black hair

Hung in ringlets over his shoulders,

Wore a small pointed beard,

Black velvet tails,

A white linen shirt

Loosely fastened at the neck

By a thin pink taffeta tie;

The second wore a tight coat

That opened onto a silk crimson waistcoat

And a lace jabot, white trousers

With blue seams,

And a wide-brimmed black hat, and

In one of his hands

He carried a long thin pink-coloured pipe.

They were soon joined

By some of their dandified companions.

The music had stopped playing, and

The poet-leader in cape and gloves,

Dark and pomaded

With a Theophile Gautier moustache,

Took to the stage,

Where he proceeded to declaim

Selections from his subversive verses

To delirious cheers,

As if sedition was imminent;

Only the boy-poet remained silent,

His pale cheeks

Soaked by the freshest tears.

"Apres nous, le deluge,"

He said under his breath,

"Our leader preaches revolution

But provides no solution

As to the fate of coming generations,

Should the infant be cast out

With the bath water that is so filthy

In his sight

That, intent on doing right,

Gives no thought to the future,

Nor to what might supplant

The society he claims to despise."

The boy was aged about eighteen

Pale and pensive

Weary and frail in appearance.

He could have been

Goethe's Werther,

Senancour's Obermann

Or Chateaubriand's melancholy hero,

Embraced by a generation,

And about whom Sainte-Beuve said:

"Rene, c'est moi."

Tortured by a new mal du siecle,

He sought refuge

From the Club Bouzingo.

Gallant Festivities

It was my evening, that's

For sure -

"Its your aura"

For sure -

At last I'm good

At something.

"Spot the Equity card!"

"When are you going

To be a superstar?"

Said Sarah.

That seemed to be

The question

On everyone's lips.

At last, at last, at last

I'm good at something.

And so the party...Zoe

called me...I listened

To her problems;

References

To my "innocent face"

Linda said:

"Sally seems elusive

But is in fact,

Accessible;

You're the opposite -

You give to everyone

But are incapable

Of giving in particular."

Madeleine was comparing me

To June Miller;

Descriptions by Nin:

"She does not dare

To be herself..."

Everything I'd always

Wanted to be, I now am.

"...She lives

On the reflections

Of herself in the eyes

Of others...

There is no June

To grasp and know."

I kept getting up to dance

Sally said: "I'm afraid;

You're inscrutable;

You're not just

Blase

Are you?"

I spoke

Of the spells of calm,

And the hysterical

Reactions,

Psychic Exhaustion,

Then anxious elation.

The Wanderer of Golders Green

I awake each morning

With fresh hope

And tranquility;

I might go for a saunter

Down quiet London backstreets...

Soon my aimlessness

Depresses me,

And I realise

I'd been deceiving myself

As to my ability

To relax as others do.

I decided on a Special B

Before the eve.

I bought a lager

At the Bar

And chatted to Gaye.

Then Ray

Bought me another.

I appreciated the fact

That he remembered

The time he,

His gal Chris,

And Cary Downed

An entire Bottle

Of Jack Daniels

In a Paris-bound train.

A tanned cat

Bought me a (large) half,

Then another half.

My fatal eyes

Are my downfall.

I drank yet another half...

My head was spinning

When it hit the pillow;

I awoke

With a terrible headache

Around one o'clock.

I prayed it would depart.

I slowly got dressed.

I was as chatty as ever

Before the exam...

French/English translation.

Periodically I put my face

In my hands or groaned

Or sighed -

My stomach

was burning me inside.

I finished my paper

In 1 hour and a half.

As I walked out

I caught various eyes

Amanda's, Jade's (quizzical) etc.

I went to bed;

Slept 'till five;

Read O'Neill until 7ish...

Got dressed,

And strolled down

To Golders Green,

In order to relive

A few memories.

I sang to myself -

A few memories

Flashed into my mind,

But not as many

as I'd have liked -

It wasn't the same.

Singing songs brought

Voluptuous tears.

I snuck into McDonald's

Where I felt at home,

Anonymous, alone.

I bought a few things,

Toothpaste and pick,

Chocolate, yoghurts,

Sweets, cigarettes

And fruit juice.

Took a sentimental journey

Back to Powis Gardens,

Richness

And intensity,

Romantic

And attractive,

Sad, suspicious and strange.

I sat up until 3am,

Reading O'Neill,

Or writing (inept) poetry.

Awoke at 10,

But didn't leave

My room till 12,

Lost my way

To Swiss Cottage,

Lost my happiness.

Oh so conscious

Of my failure,

And after a fashion,

Enjoying this knowledge.

More (Lyrical) Beachcombings

Some Romantic Afternoon

Some Romantic Afternoon

I will hear that haunting tune

The one that I would softly croon

By a lagoon

We'd go sailing to Cadiz

For a while it seemed like bliss

Now it all seems just a myth

Like Brigadoon

Took a boat to southern Spain

Just to see her face again

She had gone forever

Not to return there

I could not control the tears

How they burned my eyes

As I looked back at those lost years

Some Romantic Afternoon

I will hear that haunting tune

The one that I would softly croon

By a lagoon.

Oh My My My (Call the FBI)

Couldn't believe my peepers

When I first saw you

Couldn't believe the beauty

Of your baby blues

I knew I had to ask you if you'd

Like to dance

I knew I had to take heart and to

Take that chance

First you resisted me you said

You couldn't leave

Your friends alone

But after our first dance you said

You thought they would be

OK to find their own way home

Oh my my my

Call the FBI

I think I lost my pride

I think I found my bride

Couldn't believe I'd ever

Find a girl like you

Couldn't believe we'd bond

As if by Superglue

I knew I had such tender feelings

In my heart

I knew that I could fix it so we'd

Never part

First you resisted me you said

You weren't ready

To fall in love

But after our first dance you said

You thought you'd give

This crazy swain another chance

Oh my my my

Call the FBI

I think I lost my pride

I think I found my bride.

For More than a Million Dreams

Keep on chipping

Right away at my heart

Because you touched it

Right from the start

If you were to leave me

And then

We were to part

It would really tear me apart

Don't stop now

Darling you're getting to me

Don't quit now

That you're ahead

Don't stop now

You've made an impression on me

Now there's no getting you out of my head

Keep on tearing

All my defences down

Because I feel that

They're all going to fall

Keep on keeping up with

All of your charms

Because I feel

I'm going to give you my all

Don't stop now

You lit such a fire in me

Don't quit now

Because that would be cruel

Don't stop now

Darling don't tire of me

I'd feel such a fool and so confused

You're the one

I have longed for you

For more than a million dreams

You're the one

I have been strong for you

You don't know how hard it's been

Don't stop now

Darling you're getting to me

Don't quit now

That you're ahead

Don't stop now.

Melancholy Girl

Melancholy Girl

With your pre-Raphaelite curls

You don't seem quite of this world

Such a strange and a sad-eyed girl

What happened to your smile

How came you to be so full of guile

Your eyes seem to stare for miles

For such a sweet and a tender child

There's someone you've got to meet

The truth can set you free

Eternally

Enigmatic babe

The way you live is a shame

Life is more than a game

Freedom's found in just one name

I'd like to show you another way

Where the dark can't harm you

Night or day

Melancholy Girl,

With your pre-Raphaelite curls

You don't seem quite of this world

Such a strange and a sad-eyed girl.

My Travels

My travels start

Right here

Deep in my mind

My travels take me just where

I please I don't have

To leave my warm room

My travels start

Sixteen sun

Beating down

Sinatra's crooning Jobim

And I'm just dreaming of my

Great romance to come

I don't need a little ticket

Tells me I can take the train

I don't even to risk it

There's no blistering sun

Or driving rain

And it's here that I remain

My travels end

With a sweet

And peaceful time

I've found such sense deep within

No more will I feel

The need to go travelling again.

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Reviews

Laminators Dubai

oh my my call the fbi...
great...
im laughing my guts out even its not that funny!

i never enjoyed story like that...its so full of life...you got characters...you got plot...their feelings...
its not rhyming but still got the beat sir...
its one fun to read and thoughfulness is visible...
great...

keep sharing sir...

we are gonna get soo much to learn from you....