(Poem #112) Mr.Tambourine Man
Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to. Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, In the jingle-jangle morning I'll come followin' you. Though I know that evenin's empire has returned into sand, Vanished from my hand, Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping. My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet, I have no one to meet And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming. Hey, Mr.Tambourine Man, etc. Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship, My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip, My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels To be wanderin'. I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way, I promise to go under it. Hey, Mr.Tambourine Man, etc. Though you might hear laughin', spinnin', swingin' madly across the sun, It's not aimed at anyone, it's just escapin' on the run And but for the sky there are no fences facin'. And if you hear vague traces of skippin' reels of rhyme To your tambourine in time, it's just a ragged clown behind I wouldn't pay it any mind, it's just a shadow you're Seeing' that he's chasing Hey, Mr.Tambourine Man, etc.
What makes a poet great? Is it sheer depth of emotion? Sensitivity and social conscience? Honesty, both intellectual and moral? The ability to see the truth, and the courage to recognize it for what it is? A knack for creating resonant phrases and haunting images? There's all this and more, and all these and more are present in the songs of Bob Dylan, who absolutely rules my world :-) No other poet - indeed, no other person - has managed to exemplify a time, a place and a generation as completely as Dylan did his. (I know that's a rather sweeping statement, but I'll stand by it. So there!). In his lyrics, in his music, and most especially in his uncompromising social stance, Dylan stood for the hopes and fears of an entire generation of young Americans, not afraid to criticise the old, not too cynical to embrace the new, both unrelentingly harsh and deeply compassionate, biting, yet surprisingly vulnerable... Today's poem is Dylan in a mellow, subdued mood. The lyrics are complex, sophisticated - there's a keen and intense sensitivity underlying the surface psychedelia. The internal rhymes, the repetitions of form, the uneven metre (and the swirling harmonica music, though you can't hear it by email) all combine to create a soft, surreal, hypnotic atmosphere... "In the jingle-jangle morning I'll come following you". thomas.