Somewhere A Band Is Playing

Hey world,
Before we get started I just wanted to point something out to all you, if you agree with what I'm saying or have a comment please feel free to add them at the bottom of the page, I'd love to hear what you think!
I was recently given a really beautiful poem, I definitely had to reflect on it and share it with all of you. It is by one of my favourite authors, Ray Bradbury. For those of you who are not familiar with this author or his work, he is famous for having written 'Fahrenheit 451', amongst other novels. I read this earlier in the year, and found it phenomenal. If you haven't read it, I suggest you read it immediately. Particularly if (like me) you are a big fan of dystopian fiction...
Anyway, here is the poem:

Somewhere a band is playing,
Playing the strangest tunes,
Of sunflower seeds and sailors
Who tide with the strangest moons.
Somewhere a drummer simmers
And trembles with times forlorn,
Remembering days of summer
In futures yet unborn.
Futures so far they are ancient
And filled with Egyptian dust,
That smell of the tomb and the lilac,
And seed that is spent from lust,
And peach that is hung on a tree branch
Far out in the sky from one’s reach,
There mummies as lovely as lobsters
Remember old futures and teach.
And children sit by on the stone floor
And draw out their lives in the sands,
Remembering deaths that won’t happen
In futures unseen in far lands.
Somewhere a band is playing
Where the moon never sets in the sky
And nobody sleeps in the summer
And nobody puts down to die;
And Time then just goes on forever
And hearts then continue to beat
To the sound of the old moon-drum drumming
And the glide of Eternity’s feet;
Somewhere the old people wander
And linger themselves into noon
And sleep in the wheat fields yonder
To rise as fresh children with moon.
Somewhere the children, old, maunder
And know what it is to be dead
And turn in their weeping to ponder
Oblivious filed ‘neath their bed.
And sit at the long dining table
Where Life makes a banquet of flesh,
Where dis-able makes itself able
And spoiled puts on new masks of fresh.
Somewhere a band is playing
Oh listen, oh listen that tune!
If you learn it you’ll dance on forever
In June and yet June and more June.
And Death will be dumb and not clever
And Death will lie silent forever
In June and June and more June.

When I first read this poem it really touched me, and still does every time I read it.
Bradbury has not actually picked one topic to write about, but instead he had mashed a bunch of different ideas and topics together to make a very intriguing poem. The amount of imagination within this poem is incredible, along with usages of imagery, and countless metaphors.

'And the glide of Eternity's feet'
I really like the concept in this poem of how the 'future past'. This is a very complicated thought, for example:
' Remembering days of summer in futures yet unborn'
This can be kind of hard to get one's mind around. To me this is a very melancholy line. Humans have always struggled with the concept of change and loss. The days of summer Bradbury describes are a happy thing, but then they are unborn, so they are yet to come. Remembering is a past tense action though, so it has two meanings. Bradbury leaves us with all kinds of questions, like when will the days of summer be born? What do we remember about them? Another example:
'Futures so so far they are ancient'
This is a contradicting sentence that, again, provokes a sense of forlorn times.
This is definitely one of my new favorite poems. Again, if any of you haven't read any of Bradbury's work, I suggest you do so. He is a fantastic writer and his writing is so deep, that you may lose yourself in it...
Listen out for that band's tune, world.

A.H🐝


Comments

  1. Really interesting perspectives. Lots to explore and untangle.Your Blog is always interesting. Keep posting!👍

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Negative Capability (2) Ode To A Grecian Urn Analysis

The Old Fools-Phillip Larkin

Robert Frost- Nothing Gold can stay: A reflection