Friday, September 28, 2007

[clouds] come into everyone's life

Clouds define us, delight us and depress us. From Aristophanes' The Clouds to Susan Orey's Empty Sky, clouds Я go:

An empty sky is safe because nothingness can only stay.

When joy arrives in clouds I fear they’ll fade, or glide away.

I weep whenever I read that poem. Clouds are good and rain clouds can even help the economy [and isn't it inspired that the Guardian has a business section] but for every fluffy Cumulus, a little Nimbus must come into our lives. Life is more of a streaky Cirrus than a Stratus of success.

Clouds are so central to our life and yet so maligned - think of the negative connotations, as in the expression "head in the clouds" or Waters and Gilmour's "Obscured by Clouds".

Why not "Protected by Clouds" or "Charmed by Clouds"?

Because of this societal prejudice against clouds, a society has been set up to promote them, for a one off fee of three pounds, for postage and handling. The Society's Manifesto:

We pledge to fight ‘blue-sky thinking’ wherever we find it.

Life would be dull if we had to look up at cloudless monotony day after day.

If you'd like to see more cloud photos, Dan can oblige from Canada. Perhaps you'd prefer your clouds in musical form - there's always Ennio Morricone's Guardians of the Clouds.

And now, a little poem to close with:

I staggered lonely as a cloud

That p--sed down rain, day after day;

And made a little mental note

To nevermore be caught that way;

Shaking a drunken fist I cried

"Oh clouds, why dump you on my head;

Why blight my day in every way?

Something I did, something I said?

By way of answer the clouds did part

Revealing the form of a maiden fair,

This side of Tescos with two great bags

Approaching with matted, sodden hair;

"The clouds be praised, my own true love -

Sweet wench, the raingods sent you hence?"

"You wot, you tosser? Ere - grab these bags;

Now shut it 'n lend me fifty pence."

"For you, rain goddess I'd go as far

As fifty five though it cuts me deep."

"You stingy sod," the angel croaked,

A bitter harvest you're gonna reap."

Too late we saw the Nimbus high,

Stealthily gathered throughout our tryst,

And now it bucketed from the sky

I swear to you - it fairly p--sed.

And now these days, we sit and laugh

How that day led to wedded bliss;

And everytime we see those clouds,

My rain queen scores a whisky kiss.

[By James "Cloudy" Higham, greatly indebted to Link Notes. Visit him for other goodies as well. I dedicate this post to the Chipster, Crispen Walter, for whom I'd like the clouds to part, as if by a thong.]

7 comments:

Big Chip Dale said...

I'm moved. In fact I'm touched but people tell me that all the time. However, this time I really am touched. And how did you know that I'm a big fan of Morricone?

Lord Higham- Murray said...

At the risk of being unorigianl and as Python intoned: "It was an inspired guess."

UBERMOUTH said...

Lovely poem,James.

Sean Jeating said...

Hm, not much left to say. Poetry, which took - to quote Wordsworth - its origin from emotion recollected in tranquillity. :)

Welshcakes Limoncello said...

Nice parody. "Into each life some rain must fall " and all that. I love that song, "Clouds", too. Buona notte .

Lord Higham- Murray said...

People - may the clouds which cover your life today be cumulus with big chunks of blue sky.

jmb said...

Very whimsical post James, with a great wind-up. Blue sky is so boring.