Blackbird Singing: Poems and Lyrics, 1965-1999 [Hardcover]

And if I say I really loved you

And was glad you came along,

Then you were here today

For you were in my song

Here today.

At the end, John Lennon *is* here today, resurrected in the only way we can bring the dead back--by remembering the flavor of a few thousand encounters, with love.... Although it's a classic song, I didn't see its structure until I read it.

Now, some will find this "sentimental", but I feel that McCartney's reputation for sentimentality is greatly exaggerated. He is constitutionally unable to compose love lyrics that are other than sincere--that's what he feels, and that's what he's convinced his melody is about, and, dammit, there is such a thing as love, seems to be his attitude. So, if being sincere about love constitutes sentimentality, then he has to take the rap. But on that, and many other subjects, he's as bright, curious, and perceptive as you could want, not to mention funny. In any book of poetry, you meet the mind of the maker. What I think you will find in this book is the mind of a sophisticated naif. It is a sophisticated mind that speaks of "time's demented curtain," or plays with the components of the word mantra while meditating on distractions from meditation, or carefully pares his feelings for his children to a brief, bald assertion that "I'm well proud." Poetry is also supposed to wake your perceptions up--is the sound of a church bell ringing both warm and cool? Yes, it is, City Park makes me realize. Should we pity the emotional life of birds? Probably, in To Find the Joy. Many of the poems in the last section of the book, Nova, are about life since Linda, and one of them, To Be Said, is as austere and powerful as any poem I've read on the subject, and uses an absolute economy of means. And it is just a few pages off from Rocking On!, which is a poem about married love which rhymes "doze off" with "clothes off," thus revealing one of the small (or perhaps large) pleasures of the poet's life, watching his wife get undressed after they have persuaded the children to go to sleep. Now, you really can't rhyme doze off with clothes off in today's world--it is Just Not Done. But I personally relish McCartney's bull-headed innocence, and he keeps bringing off poems in which you Just Can't Do That. Adrian Mitchell, who writes a brief, graceful introduction to this volume, says that poetry is "the art of dancing naked." The dancer you will find in this book is vigorous and highly economical. He will not waste an moment of your time, but he might reward it royally. Read more ›

In order to encounter the lyrics to Lady Madonna, and other classic songs, as poems on a page, you will certainly have to perform the mental trick of turning down the music that will be playing in your head. When I succeeded in doing that, I discovered, among other things, what a tight structure Here Today (one of the songs written about John Lennon after his death) really has. It is built around the repetition of the phrase "here today" and the change in its meaning that unfolds in the last stanza. In the first stanza, the meaning is literal--if John Lennon were *in this room* today, what would he say if I told him that I really knew him well? (He'd laugh, is what he'd do, in the poet's opinion, and I'm not going to argue with the poet here.) Then there are two stanzas that recall something of their history, and one incident in particular, in which they both cried. The last stanza:

And if I say I really loved you

And was glad you came along,

Then you were here today

For you were in my song

Here today.

At the end, John Lennon *is* here today, resurrected in the only way we can bring the dead back--by remembering the flavor of a few thousand encounters, with love.... Although it's a classic song, I didn't see its structure until I read it.

Now, some will find this "sentimental", but I feel that McCartney's reputation for sentimentality is greatly exaggerated. He is constitutionally unable to compose love lyrics that are other than sincere--that's what he feels, and that's what he's convinced his melody is about, and, dammit, there is such a thing as love, seems to be his attitude. So, if being sincere about love constitutes sentimentality, then he has to take the rap. But on that, and many other subjects, he's as bright, curious, and perceptive as you could want, not to mention funny.

In any book of poetry, you meet the mind of the maker. What I think you will find in this book is the mind of a sophisticated naif. It is a sophisticated mind that speaks of "time's demented curtain," or plays with the components of the word mantra while meditating on distractions from meditation, or carefully pares his feelings for his children to a brief, bald assertion that "I'm well proud." Poetry is also supposed to wake your perceptions up--is the sound of a church bell ringing both warm and cool? Yes, it is, City Park makes me realize. Should we pity the emotional life of birds? Probably, in To Find the Joy.

Many of the poems in the last section of the book, Nova, are about life since Linda, and one of them, To Be Said, is as austere and powerful as any poem I've read on the subject, and uses an absolute economy of means. And it is just a few pages off from Rocking On!, which is a poem about married love which rhymes "doze off" with "clothes off," thus revealing one of the small (or perhaps large) pleasures of the poet's life, watching his wife get undressed after they have persuaded the children to go to sleep. Now, you really can't rhyme doze off with clothes off in today's world--it is Just Not Done. But I personally relish McCartney's bull-headed innocence, and he keeps bringing off poems in which you Just Can't Do That.

Adrian Mitchell, who writes a brief, graceful introduction to this volume, says that poetry is "the art of dancing naked." The dancer you will find in this book is vigorous and highly economical. He will not waste an moment of your time, but he might reward it royally. Read more ›