Expecting Rain

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PostPosted: Sat March 5th, 2016, 20:14 GMT 
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Location: In the middle
Back in old the folkie days, the air was magic when we played...


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PostPosted: Sat March 5th, 2016, 21:17 GMT 
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Location: over the shadows & the rain
You're a man of the mountains
you can walk on the clouds
manipulator of crowds
You're a dream twister


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PostPosted: Sat March 5th, 2016, 22:01 GMT 
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Thunder on the mountain, fires on the moon

Played in my newly refound fave dive tonight (as did Odds & ends and some TTL shit too)

From now I'll never enter a place with bad music


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PostPosted: Sun March 6th, 2016, 07:48 GMT 

Joined: Sun December 4th, 2011, 07:12 GMT
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When asked to give your real name, never give it


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PostPosted: Sun March 6th, 2016, 13:08 GMT 
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I walked my road an sung my song

Like a scared poet

Walkin on the shore

Kickin driftwood with my shadow

Afraid a the sea –


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PostPosted: Sun March 6th, 2016, 19:55 GMT 
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Oh, ooh, Angelina


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PostPosted: Mon March 7th, 2016, 06:13 GMT 

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took an untrodden path once, where the swift don't win the race


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PostPosted: Tue March 8th, 2016, 13:06 GMT 
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Location: over the shadows & the rain
I rode straight away for the wild unknown country where I could not go wrong


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PostPosted: Thu March 10th, 2016, 19:34 GMT 
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Alouette wrote:
there's fighting in the valley, thieving in the alley
fighting every inch of the way
trying to get a lead on somebody new to beat on
the nights are always sadder than the day
A WHOLE STANZA IS NOT A SHORT STRING OF WORDS - surely there's a thread for 'random dylan stanzas that have a good phrase or two' - plz track that down, Alouetta
Alouette wrote:
I rode straight away for the wild unknown country where I could not go wrong
STRAIGHTAWAY IS ONE WORD - fail


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PostPosted: Thu March 10th, 2016, 19:55 GMT 
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And she takes your voice/And leaves you howling at the moon

(The sound of any any any sentence in Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues is just amazing. That one is the most "poetic" possibly.)


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PostPosted: Thu March 10th, 2016, 20:12 GMT 
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Location: Besós River Shore
And Louise holds a handful of rain, temptin’ you to defy it


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PostPosted: Fri March 11th, 2016, 00:42 GMT 
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AndoDoug wrote:
Alouette wrote:
there's fighting in the valley, thieving in the alley
fighting every inch of the way
trying to get a lead on somebody new to beat on
the nights are always sadder than the day
A WHOLE STANZA IS NOT A SHORT STRING OF WORDS - surely there's a thread for 'random dylan stanzas that have a good phrase or two' - plz track that down, Alouetta
Alouette wrote:
I rode straight away for the wild unknown country where I could not go wrong
STRAIGHTAWAY IS ONE WORD - fail

sorry AndoDoug


And all the remnants of her recent past
are scattered in the wild wind


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PostPosted: Fri March 11th, 2016, 01:32 GMT 
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vague traces of skippin' reels of rhyme

ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming

bread crumb sins

he not busy being born is busy dying

Clouds so swift
Rain won't lift

I've still got the scars that the Son/Sun didn't heal

In every leaf that trembles, in every grain of sand.


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PostPosted: Fri March 11th, 2016, 05:12 GMT 
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Location: One Too Many Mornings and 1000 Miles Behind
To Dance beneath the Diamond Skies with one hand waving free

Pretty poetic


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PostPosted: Fri March 11th, 2016, 05:56 GMT 
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It's cool that we all more or less experience some of these short strings of words as providing a poetic frisson of some sort


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PostPosted: Fri March 11th, 2016, 09:41 GMT 
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AndoDoug wrote:
It's cool that we all more or less experience some of these short strings of words as providing a poetic frisson of some sort

And it's quite interesting to notice that lots of them are from Mr Tambourine Man.
I remember reading somewhere a statement from Dylan that he once tried but did not succeed to get again to the kind of magic he had reached in that song.


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PostPosted: Fri March 11th, 2016, 15:53 GMT 
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take any string out of *It's Alright Ma*


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PostPosted: Fri March 11th, 2016, 17:01 GMT 

Joined: Sat February 27th, 2016, 23:54 GMT
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Location: camilla's house
JeffreyLeePierre wrote:
AndoDoug wrote:
It's cool that we all more or less experience some of these short strings of words as providing a poetic frisson of some sort

And it's quite interesting to notice that lots of them are from Mr Tambourine Man.
I remember reading somewhere a statement from Dylan that he once tried but did not succeed to get again to the kind of magic he had reached in that song.

I dont think anyone has.


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PostPosted: Sat March 12th, 2016, 14:14 GMT 
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Location: over the shadows & the rain
heart of mine go back home
you got no reason to wander, no reason to roam


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PostPosted: Sat March 12th, 2016, 16:52 GMT 
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heart of mine so malicious and so full of guile


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PostPosted: Sat March 12th, 2016, 16:58 GMT 
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The world is old, the world is grey
Frissons of life can't be learned in a day


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PostPosted: Sun March 13th, 2016, 00:13 GMT 
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It's bad out there
High water everywhere


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PostPosted: Sun March 13th, 2016, 00:31 GMT 
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Hunger pays a heavy price to the falling gods of speed and steel


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PostPosted: Sun March 13th, 2016, 13:28 GMT 
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heart-attack machine

(If you accept that definition of poetry: "give birth to something new in the real world out of imaginary assembly of words", extrapolated from the definition of art as "give birth to some new beauty in the real world" but I don't remember who is it from).

Even if that new reality here is kinda dark or scary. With the additional detail that it is something that is "strapped accross (one's) shoulders".


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PostPosted: Sun March 13th, 2016, 22:06 GMT 
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effort wrote:
The world is old, the world is grey
Frissons of life can't be learned in a day

Ha!

JeffreyLeePierre wrote:
heart-attack machine

(If you accept that definition of poetry: "give birth to something new in the real world out of imaginary assembly of words", extrapolated from the definition of art as "give birth to some new beauty in the real world" but I don't remember who is it from).

Even if that new reality here is kinda dark or scary. With the additional detail that it is something that is "strapped across (one's) shoulders".
Yeah, and then the kerosene is brought down...it seems like part of a bizarre ritual, i.e. poetry itself


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