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Sunset Blvd.

Cast: William Holden, Gloria Swanson, Erich von Stroheim, Nancy Olson, Fred Clark

trailer for Sunset Blvd, directed by Billy Wilder (1950)
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Going Back To Gloria

Written by orbison/dees.
Going back to gloria,the girl Im dreaming of.
Going back to gloria,gloria my love.
Forget about the letters that I wrote to you.
Forget about the many things we used to do.
I dont want you to cry,but I must say goodbye.
So long youre on your own.
Going home,going back to gloria.
Going back to gloria, the girl Im dreaming of.
Going back to gloria, gloria my love.
Ill keep on pretending that I never cared
And everytime well meet Ill act like youre not there.
I will write no more letters.Ill make no more calls.
I cant meet you anymore.
Going home,going back to gloria.
Going back to gloria, going back to gloria.gloria.
Going back to gloria.the girl Im dreaming of.
Going back to gloria,gloria my love, gloria my love.

song performed by Roy Orbison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Gloria

Yeah, right.
Did you hear about my baby? she come around,
She come round here, the head to the ground?
Come round here just about midnight,
She makes me feel so good, make me feel all right.
She come round my street, now
She come to my house and
Knock upon my door
Climbing up my stairs, one, two
[unwriteable improvisation]
Come on baby
Here she is in my room, oh boy
Hey whats your name?
How old are you?
Whered you go to school?
Aha, yeah
Aha, yeah
Ah, ah yeah, ah yeah
Oh haa, mmm
Well, now that we know each other a little bit better,
Why dont you come over here
Make me feel all right!
Gloria, gloria
Gloria, gloria
Gloria, gloria
All night, all day
All right, okey, yey!
(gloria, gloria)
You were my queen and I was your fool,
Riding home after school.
You took me home
To your house.
Your fathers at work,
Your mamas out shopping around.
Check me into your room.
Show me your thing.
Whyd you do it baby?
Getting softer, slow it down
Softer, get it down
Now you show me your thing.
Wrap your legs around my neck,
Wrap your arms around my feet, yeah
Wrap your hair around my skin.
Im gonna huh, right, ok, yeah.
Its getting harder, its getting too darn fast
Its getting harder
All right!
Come on, now, lets get it on.
Too late, too late, too late,
Too late, too late, too late,

[...] Read more

song performed by Doors
Added by Lucian Velea
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Gloria

Text: traditional french carol
Music: michael w. smith
(additional lyrics adapted from the song, angels we have heard on high)
Angels we have heard on high
Sweetly singing oer the pains
And the mountains in reply
Echo back their joyous strains
Gloria o gloria in excelsis deo
Come to bethlehem and see
(gloria o sing gloria)
Him whose birth the angels sing
(gloria o sing gloria)
Come adore on bended knee
Christ the lord the newborn king
Gloria o gloria in excelsis deo
Angels we have heard on high
(gloria o sing gloria)
Sweetly singing oer the plains
(gloria o sing gloria)
Jesus lord of heavn and earth
With us sing our saviors birth
Gloria o gloria in excelsis deo
Alleluia

song performed by Michael W. Smith
Added by Lucian Velea
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Gloria, Can You Waddle

Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Hey, baby can I dance with you?
I will show you something very good
Im your gander youre my goose
And this is something new for you, oh hear me!
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Hey, baby come and dance with me
Its an old dance of the early sixties
All the guys and all the girls were freaked
By this dance of our gees, oh hear me!
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Hey, baby can I dance with you?
I will show you something very good
Im your gander, youre my goose
And this is something new for you, oh hear me!
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Can you waddle, ah, ah?
Can you waddle, ah, ah?
Can you waddle, ah, ah?
Can you (gloria) waddle, ah, ah?
Can you waddle, ah, ah?
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Gloria

song performed by Boney M.
Added by Lucian Velea
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My Spouse Nancy

'Husband, husband, cease your strife,
Nor longer idly rave, Sir;
Tho' I am your wedded wife
Yet I am not your slave, Sir.'
'One of two must still obey,
Nancy, Nancy;
Is it Man or Woman, say,
My spouse Nancy?'

'If 'tis still the lordly word,
Service and obedience;
I'll desert my sov'reign lord,
And so, good bye, allegiance!'
'Sad shall I be, so bereft,
Nancy, Nancy;
Yet I'll try to make a shift,
My spouse Nancy.'

'My poor heart, then break it must,
My last hour I am near it:
When you lay me in the dust,
Think how you will bear it.'
'I will hope and trust in Heaven,
Nancy, Nancy;
Strength to bear it will be given,
My spouse Nancy.'

'Well, Sir, from the silent dead,
Still I'll try to daunt you;
Ever round your midnight bed
Horrid sprites shall haunt you!'
'I'll wed another like my dear
Nancy, Nancy;
Then all hell will fly for fear,
My spouse Nancy.'

poem by Robert Burns
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Carmen Seculare. For the Year 1700. To The King

Thy elder Look, Great Janus, cast
Into the long Records of Ages past:
Review the Years in fairest Action drest
With noted White, Superior to the rest;
Aera's deriv'd, and Chronicles begun
From Empires founded, and from Battels won:
Show all the Spoils by valiant Kings achiev'd,
And groaning Nations by Their Arms reliev'd;
The Wounds of Patriots in their Country's Cause,
And happy Pow'r sustain'd by wholesom Laws:
In comely Rank call ev'ry Merit forth:
Imprint on ev'ry Act it's Standard Worth:
The glorious Parallels then downward bring
To Modern Wonders, and to Britain's King:
With equal Justice and Historic Care
Their Laws, Their Toils, Their Arms with His compare:
Confess the various Attributes of Fame
Collected and compleat in William's Name:
To all the list'ning World relate
(As Thou dost His Story read)
That nothing went before so Great,
And nothing Greater can succeed.
Thy Native Latium was Thy darling Care,
Prudent in Peace, and terrible in War:
The boldest Virtues that have govern'd Earth
From Latium's fruitful Womb derive their Birth.
Then turn to Her fair-written Page:
From dawning Childhood to establish'd Age,
The Glories of Her Empire trace:
Confront the Heroes of Thy Roman Race:
And let the justest Palm the Victor's Temples grace.
The Son of Mars reduc'd the trembling Swains,
And spread His Empire o'er the distant Plains:
But yet the Sabins violated Charms
Obscur'd the Glory of His rising Arms.
Numa the Rights of strict Religion knew;
On ev'ry Altar laid the Incense due;
Unskill'd to dart the pointed Spear,
Or lead the forward Youth to noble War.
Stern Brutus was with too much Horror good,
Holding his Fasces stain'd with Filial Blood.
Fabius was Wise, but with Excess of Care;
He sav'd his Country; but prolonged the War:
While Decius, Paulus, Curius greatly fought;
And by Their strict Examples taught,
How wild Desires should be controll'd;
And how much brighter Virtue was, than Gold;
They scarce Their swelling Thirst of Fame could hide;
And boasted Poverty with too much Pride.
Excess in Youth made Scipio less rever'd:

[...] Read more

poem by Matthew Prior
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Lord William

No eye beheld when William plunged
Young Edmund in the stream,
No human ear but William's heard
Young Edmund's drowning scream.

Submissive all the vassals own'd
The murderer for their Lord,
And he, the rightful heir, possessed
The house of Erlingford.

The ancient house of Erlingford
Stood midst a fair domain,
And Severn's ample waters near
Roll'd through the fertile plain.

And often the way-faring man
Would love to linger there,
Forgetful of his onward road
To gaze on scenes so fair.

But never could Lord William dare
To gaze on Severn's stream;
In every wind that swept its waves
He heard young Edmund scream.

In vain at midnight's silent hour
Sleep closed the murderer's eyes,
In every dream the murderer saw
Young Edmund's form arise.

In vain by restless conscience driven
Lord William left his home,
Far from the scenes that saw his guilt,
In pilgrimage to roam.

To other climes the pilgrim fled,
But could not fly despair,
He sought his home again, but peace
Was still a stranger there.

Each hour was tedious long, yet swift
The months appear'd to roll;
And now the day return'd that shook
With terror William's soul.

A day that William never felt
Return without dismay,
For well had conscience kalendered
Young Edmund's dying day.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Southey
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The Beast: Chapter Two

She walked through the door
looking back only to see him fade
into the crowd of students
pouring across the plaza in front of the auditorium.

She watched him recede
vowing
that she would make a point of finding out
more about him.

There was the freshman boat ride in a few days
there was her next opportunity.

Suddenly a voice said:

'Wow, that was chemistry
if I have ever seen chemistry.'

It was Nancy, Nicole's roommate.

They had first met only the day before
when Nicole had arrived at the college for the week long orientation
which included of course
meeting one's roommate.

Nancy was already there in the room
when Nicole arrived her bags in hand
looking to see where she would she might spend the next four years of her life.

The two eyed each other momentarily
quickly sizing each other up after some long seconds
deciding that they liked one another.

Nancy was there on an academic scholarship
just like Nicole and they had been paired together
probably because they had somethings in common.

They seemed to be each other's type,
studious, quiet
and had settled in with each other comfortably.

Nancy falling in beside Nicole
was talking and saying:

'Who was that beautiful blond guy you were talking to. When he put his hands on you I almost died.'
Nancy was gushing.

'Blond? ' Nicole said, blankly? 'Who are you talking about? '

'You know the big blond who opened the door for you looking deep deep into your eyes, ' Nancy said giving Nicole her best dreamy-eyed girl look.

[...] Read more

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Gloria

(van morrison)
Like to tell you bout my baby
You know she comes around,
Just bout five feet four a-from her head to the ground
You know she comes around here just about midnight
She make me feel so good, lord
She make me feel all right
And her name is g-l-o-r-i
G-l-o-r-i-a gloria
G-l-o-r-i-a gloria
Im gonna shout it all night gloria
Im gonna shout it every day, gloria
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
She comes around here just about midnight, ha
She make me feel so good, lord
I wanna say she make me feel all right
Comes a-walkin down my street
Then she comes up to my house
She knock upon my door and then she comes to my room
Yeah an she make me feel all right
G-l-o-r-i-a gloria
G-l-o-r-i-a gloria
Im gonna shout it all night gloria
Im gonna shout it every day gloria
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Looks so good gloria
All right, feel so good gloria
All right, yeah now

song performed by Rick Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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Gloria

Like to tell ya about my baby
You know she comes around
She about five feet four
A-from her head to the ground
You know she comes around here
At just about midnight
She make ya feel so good, Lord
She make ya feel all right
And her name is... G L O R I...
G L O R I A - Gloria
G L O R I A - Gloria
I'm gonna shout it all night - Gloria
I'm gonna shout it everyday - Gloria
Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah
She comes around here
Just about midnight
Ha, she make me feel so good, Lord
I wanna say she make me feel alright
Comes a-walkin' down my street
When she comes to my house
She knocks upon my door
And then she comes in my room
Yeah, an' she make me feel alright
G L O R I A - Gloria
G L O R I A - Gloria
I'm gonna shout it all night - Gloria
I'm gonna shout it everyday - Gloria
Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah
Looks so good - Gloria - Alright
Just so good - Gloria - alright, yeah

song performed by Simple Minds
Added by Lucian Velea
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Gloria

Like to tell you 'bout my baby, you know she comes around,
Just 'bout five feet four a-from her head to the ground.
You know she comes around here just about midnight,
She make me feel so good, lord, she make me feel all right.
And her name is g-l-o-r-i,
G-l-o-r-i-a gloria
G-l-o-r-i-a gloria
I'm gonna shout it all night gloria
I'm gonna shout it every day, gloria
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.
She comes around here just about midnight, ha
She make me feel so good, lord, i wanna say she make me feel all right.
Comes a-walkin' down my street, then she comes up to my house,
She knock upon my door and then she comes to my room,
Yeah an' she make me feel all right,
G-l-o-r-i-a gloria
G-l-o-r-i-a gloria
I'm gonna shout it all night gloria
I'm gonna shout it every day gloria
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah,
Looks so good gloria
All right, feel so good gloria
All right, yeah now.

song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Angels We Have Heard On High

Thereve been times, when I thought I heard angels
And I must admit, it took me by surprise
I heard rhythm, and the fullness of life
So rich, it brought tears to my eyes
There was a time, I was sure I heard angels
It was a sound tinged with sadness, but loaded with the joy
Full of rhythm, and oh such music
Kind of streetwise jubilation at the coming of that blessed boy
Angels we have heard on high
Sweetly singing oer the plains
And the mountains in reply
Echoing their joyous strain
Gloria, in excel sis deo
Gloria, in excel sis deo, oh
Shepherds why this jubilee
Why your joyous strains prolong
What the gladsome tidings be
Which inspire your heavnly song
Gloria, in excel sis deo
Gloria, in excel sis deo, oh
Come to bethlehem and see
Him whose birth the angels sing
Come adore on bended knee
Christ the lord, the new born king
Gloria, in excel sis deo
Gloria, in excel sis deo, oh
Angels we have heard on high
Angels we have heard on high, (gloria)
Angels we have heard on high, (gloria)
Angels we have heard on high, (gloria)
Angels we have heard on high, (gloria)
Angels we have heard

song performed by Vanessa Williams
Added by Lucian Velea
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Fred The Clown

Orange, blue, red, white and brown
The favorite colors of Fred the Clown
A happy and jolly clown he is
But some people he likes to tease

Everyone hates to be with Fred the Clown
But Fred never showed the people a frown
He never felt bad for what he did
The hatred inside the people had hid

The people thought of what to do with Fred the Clown
They decided to talk to the mayor of town
He laughed at what the people said
He laughed until his face gone red

The mayor didn't believe the people
For Fred the Clown gives him a tickle
They always the mayor smiled that way
Ever since Fred came each day

He already knew what Fred was doing
So he decided to call Fred for a meeting
The mayor told him what the people had said
And so left poor little Fred

The people decided to give Fred a chance
So Fred the Clown gave them a dance
The dance was so funny that they laughed all day
Fred the Clown will forever stay

poem by Geneen Meyers
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Fred the Clown

Orange, blue, red, white and brown
The favorite colors of Fred the Clown
A happy and jolly clown he is
But some people he likes to tease

Everyone hates to be with Fred the Clown
But Fred never showed the people a frown
He never felt bad for what he did
The hatred inside the people had hid

The people thought of what to do with Fred the Clown
They decided to talk to the mayor of town
He laughed at what the people said
He laughed until his face gone red

The mayor didn't believe the people
For Fred the Clown gives him a tickle
They always saw the mayor smiled that way
Ever since Fred came each day

He already knew what Fred was doing
So he decided to call Fred for a meeting
The mayor told him what the people had said
And so left poor little Fred

The people decided to give Fred a chance
So Fred the Clown gave them a dance
The dance was so funny that they laughed all day
Fred the Clown will forever stay

poem by Geneen Alyssa Meyers
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Ein Baum Erzählt von Orpheus

Weißer Tagesanbruch. Stille. Als das Kräuseln begann,
hielt ich es für Seewind, in unser Tal kommend mit Raunen
von Salz, von baumlosen Horizonten. Aber der weiße Nebel
bewegte sich nicht; das Laub meiner Brüder blieb ausgebreitet,
regungslos.
Doch das Kräuseln kam näher – und dann
begannen meine eigenen äußersten Zweige zu prickeln, fast als wäre
ein Feuer unter ihnen entfacht, zu nah, und ihre Spitzen
trockneten und rollten sich ein.
Doch ich fürchtete mich nicht, nur
wachsam war ich.
Ich sah ihn als erster, denn ich wuchs
draußen am Weidehang, jenseits des Waldes.
Er war ein Mann, so schien es: die zwei
beweglichen Stengel, der kurze Stamm, die zwei
Arm-Äste, biegsam, jeder mit fünf laublosen
Zweigen an ihrem Ende,
und der Kopf gekrönt mit braunem oder goldenem Gras,
ein Gesicht tragend, nicht wie das geschnäbelte Gesicht eines Vogels,
eher wie das einer Blume.
Er trug eine Bürde,
einen abgeschnittenen Ast, gebogen, als er noch grün war,
Strähnen einer Rebe quer darüber gespannt. Von dieser,
sobald er sie berührte, und von seiner Stimme,
die, unähnlich der Stimme des Windes, unser Laub und unsere
Äste nicht brauchte, um ihren Klang zu vollenden,
kam das Kräuseln.
Es war aber jetzt kein Kräuseln mehr (er war nahe herangekommen und
stand in meinem ersten Schatten), es war eine Welle, die mich umspülte,
als stiege Regen
empor von unten um mich herum,
anstatt zu fallen.
Und was ich spürte, war nicht mehr ein trockenes Prickeln:
Ich schien zu singen, während er sang, ich schien zu wissen,
was die Lerche weiß; mein ganzer Saft
stieg hinauf der Sonne entgegen, die nun
aufgegangen war, der Nebel hob sich, das Gras
wurde trocken, doch meine Wurzeln spürten, wie Musik sie tränkte
tief in der Erde.

Er kam noch näher, lehnte sich an meinen Stamm:
Die Rinde erschauerte wie ein noch gefaltetes Blatt.
Musik! Kein Zweig von mir, der nicht
erbebte vor Freude und Furcht.

Dann, als er sang,
waren es nicht mehr nur Klänge, aus denen die Musik entstand:
Er sprach, und wie kein Baum zuhört, hörte ich zu, und Sprache
kam in meine Wurzeln
aus der Erde,

[...] Read more

poem by Denise Levertov
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Great Conductors

Hans Richter Parsifal did not conduct,
and to the National Gallery he never paid
a visit, but he showed Franz Strauss who never sucked
just how the horn in Meistersinger should be played.

Franz Strauss refused to play a second time
for Hans von Bülow Meistersinger’s second act;
Hans begged his pardon when Franz told him: “I’m
retiring, since you for the hornist show no tact.”

There is an incident reported about the premiere of Die Meistersinger von Nuremberg. The first version: during a rehearsal Strauss complained about the terrible demanding horn part, but Hans Richter, Wagner's secretary & former first horn at the Viennese Kaerntnerthor Theatre (Beethoven's Sonata op.17 had been premiered there; forerunner theatre of the Imperial Opera House) , was present & asked Strauss to lend him his horn & played the passage from the endings of the second act flawless, but giving the horn back with the comment With your B-flat-horn you will have difficulties always; the F-horn sounds much better.
I do not believe this anecdote to be true. Even an already warmed up horn player of excellent qualities might have difficulties with the Pruegelszene How can a conducter to be (Richter became the first world famous conductor; he led the first Ring in Bayreuth 1876) , who had not played his horn for a while, play this passage flawless without any warm-up. A myth only! Richter used this complain about B-flat horn also, when he conducted in Bayreuth. He recommended the use of the single F horn always. No wonder. He came from Vienna.
The second incident happened after the end of the dress rehearsal of Mastersingers. Hans von Bülow wanted to repeat the ending of the 2nd Act again, but Strauss refused to do so, telling von Bülow that he could not do it again, as being exhausted already. If you cant do it again, so you must better ask for retirement! , replied von Buelow to Strauss. But Strauss left the pit and asked the opera's administration for immediate retirement. So Hans von Bülow had to come to Strauss house at the Pschorr Estate, ask for pardon, which was granted, - so the premiere of Mastersingers was saved.
There is an incident reported about the premiere of Die Meistersinger von Nuremberg. The first version: during a rehearsal Strauss complained about the terrible demanding horn part, but Hans Richter, Wagner's secretary & former first horn at the Viennese Kaerntnerthor Theatre (Beethoven's Sonata op.17 had been premiered there; forerunner theatre of the Imperial Opera House) , was present & asked Strauss to lend him his horn & played the passage from the endings of the second act flawless, but giving the horn back with the comment With your B-flat-horn you will have difficulties always; the F-horn sounds much better.
I do not believe this anecdote to be true. Even an already warmed up horn player of excellent qualities might have difficulties with the Pruegelszene. How can a conductor to be (Richter became the first world famous conductor; he led the first Ring in Bayreuth 1876) , who had not played his horn for a while, play this passage flawless without any warm-up. A myth only! Richter used this complain about B-flat horn also, when he conducted in Bayreuth. He recommended the use of the single F horn always. No wonder. He came from Vienna.
The second incident happened after the end of the dress rehearsal of Mastersinger. Hans von Bülow wanted to repeat the ending of the 2nd Act again, but Strauss refused to do so, telling von Bülow that he could not do it again, as being exhausted already. If you can’t do it again you had better ask for retiremen! replied von Bülow to Strauss. But Strauss left the pit and asked the opera's administration for immediate retirement. So Hans von Bülow had to come to Strauss house at the Pschorr Estate, ask for pardon, which was granted, - so the premiere of Mastersingers was saved.

8/25/08

poem by Gershon Hepner
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Daughter, I'll Be Here To Remind You!

when you grow older,
and start to age.
forget you self identity.
i will be here to remind you.
Gloria, you are beautiful.
Gloria, you are smart.
Gloria, you are perfect just the way you are.
Gloria, I'll always love you.
Gloria, your my heart, my life, my world.
Gloria, your my Beautiful babygirl.
so when you get older,
when you forget who you are
loose your identity.
I will be here to remind you
I won't be far
Gloria, you are beautiful.
Gloria, you are smart.
gloria you are perfect just the way you are.
you are my heart,
my life,
my world,
my beautiful babygirl,
just be true to yourself

poem by Krystal Vincent
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An Ode - In Imitation of Horace, Book III. Ode II.

How long, deluded Albion, wilt thou lie
In the lethargic sleep, the sad repose
By which thy close thy constant enemy
Has softly lull'd thee to thy woes?
Or wake, degenerate isle, or cease to own
What thy old kings in Gallic camps have done,
The spoils they brought thee back, the crowns they won,
William (so Fate requires) again is arm'd,
Thy father to the field is gone,
Again Maria weeps her absent lord,
For thy repose content to rule alone.
Are thy enervate sons not yet alarm'd?
When William fights dare they look tamely on,
So slow to get their ancient fame restored,
As not to melt at Beauty's tears nor follow Valour's sword?

See the repenting isle awakes,
Her vicious chains the generous goddess breaks;
The fogs around her temples are dispell'd;
Abroad she looks, and sees arm'd Belgia stand
Prepared to meet heir common lord's command,
Her lions roaring by her side, her arrows in her hand,
And blushing to have been so long withheld,
Weeps off her crime, and hastens to the field:
Henceforth her youth shall be inured to bear
Hazardous toil and active war:
To march beneath the dogstar's raging heat,
Patient of summer's drought and martial sweat,
And only grieve in winter's camp to find
Its days too short for labours they design'd:
All night beneath hard heavy arms to watch,
All day to mount the trench, to storm the breach,
And all the rugged paths to tread
Where William and his virtue led.

Silence is the soul of war;
Deliberate counsel must prepare
The mighty work which valour must complete:
Thus William rescued, thus preserves the state,
Thus teaches us to think and dare:
As, whilst his cannon just prepared to breathe
Avenging anger and swift death,
In the tried metal the close dangers glow,
And now, too late, the dying foe
Perceives the flame, yet cannot ward the blow;
So whilst in William's breast ripe counsels lie,
Secret and sure as brooding Fate,
No more of his design appears
Than what awakens Gallia's fears,
And (though Guilt's eye can sharply penetrate)

[...] Read more

poem by Matthew Prior
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The Victories Of Love. Book II

I
From Jane To Her Mother

Thank Heaven, the burthens on the heart
Are not half known till they depart!
Although I long'd, for many a year,
To love with love that casts out fear,
My Frederick's kindness frighten'd me,
And heaven seem'd less far off than he;
And in my fancy I would trace
A lady with an angel's face,
That made devotion simply debt,
Till sick with envy and regret,
And wicked grief that God should e'er
Make women, and not make them fair.
That he might love me more because
Another in his memory was,
And that my indigence might be
To him what Baby's was to me,
The chief of charms, who could have thought?
But God's wise way is to give nought
Till we with asking it are tired;
And when, indeed, the change desired
Comes, lest we give ourselves the praise,
It comes by Providence, not Grace;
And mostly our thanks for granted pray'rs
Are groans at unexpected cares.
First Baby went to heaven, you know,
And, five weeks after, Grace went, too.
Then he became more talkative,
And, stooping to my heart, would give
Signs of his love, which pleased me more
Than all the proofs he gave before;
And, in that time of our great grief,
We talk'd religion for relief;
For, though we very seldom name
Religion, we now think the same!
Oh, what a bar is thus removed
To loving and to being loved!
For no agreement really is
In anything when none's in this.
Why, Mother, once, if Frederick press'd
His wife against his hearty breast,
The interior difference seem'd to tear
My own, until I could not bear
The trouble. 'Twas a dreadful strife,
And show'd, indeed, that faith is life.
He never felt this. If he did,
I'm sure it could not have been hid;
For wives, I need not say to you,

[...] Read more

poem by Coventry Patmore
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To the Film Industry in Crisis

Not you, lean quarterlies and swarthy periodicals
with your studious incursions toward the pomposity of ants,
nor you, experimental theatre in which Emotive Fruition
is wedding Poetic Insight perpetually, nor you,
promenading Grand Opera, obvious as an ear (though you
are close to my heart), but you, Motion Picture Industry,
it's you I love!

In times of crisis, we must all decide again and again whom we love.
And give credit where it's due: not to my starched nurse, who taught me
how to be bad and not bad rather than good (and has lately availed
herself of this information), not to the Catholic Church
which is at best an oversolemn introduction to cosmic entertainment,
not to the American Legion, which hates everybody, but to you,
glorious Silver Screen, tragic Technicolor, amorous Cinemascope,
stretching Vistavision and startling Stereophonic Sound, with all
your heavenly dimensions and reverberations and iconoclasms! To
Richard Barthelmess as the 'tol'able' boy barefoot and in pants,
Jeanette MacDonald of the flaming hair and lips and long, long neck,
Sue Carroll as she sits for eternity on the damaged fender of a car
and smiles, Ginger Rogers with her pageboy bob like a sausage
on her shuffling shoulders, peach-melba-voiced Fred Astaire of the feet,
Eric von Stroheim, the seducer of mountain-climbers' gasping spouses,
the Tarzans, each and every one of you (I cannot bring myself to prefer
Johnny Weissmuller to Lex Barker, I cannot!), Mae West in a furry sled,
her bordello radiance and bland remarks, Rudolph Valentino of the moon,
its crushing passions, and moonlike, too, the gentle Norma Shearer,
Miriam Hopkins dropping her champagne glass off Joel McCrea's yacht,
and crying into the dappled sea, Clark Gable rescuing Gene Tierney
from Russia and Allan Jones rescuing Kitty Carlisle from Harpo Marx,
Cornel Wilde coughing blood on the piano keys while Merle Oberon berates,
Marilyn Monroe in her little spike heels reeling through Niagara Falls,
Joseph Cotten puzzling and Orson Welles puzzled and Dolores del Rio
eating orchids for lunch and breaking mirrors, Gloria Swanson reclining,
and Jean Harlow reclining and wiggling, and Alice Faye reclining
and wiggling and singing, Myrna Loy being calm and wise, William Powell
in his stunning urbanity, Elizabeth Taylor blossoming, yes, to you
and to all you others, the great, the near-great, the featured, the extras
who pass quickly and return in dreams saying your one or two lines,
my love!
Long may you illumine space with your marvellous appearances, delays
and enunciations, and may the money of the world glitteringly cover you
as you rest after a long day under the kleig lights with your faces
in packs for our edification, the way the clouds come often at night
but the heavens operate on the star system. It is a divine precedent
you perpetuate! Roll on, reels of celluloid, as the great earth rolls on!

poem by Frank O'Hara
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