Bob Dylan Inspired – Fevers of the Mind

Poetry Influenced by Bob Dylan & Tom Waits from Clive Gresswell

Atonement

influenced by Tom Waits

In the switchblade of the night
The freezing jewel of barracuda delight
The tempting fate of failing light
The falling rhythm of dismay from this train
Of thought to obey the trunk is hidden in the back of time
The amulet is prised in line
The liberation a dance of swans
Some with beacon some with songs
A marching army of choruses
Bitter winds of self regret
From sands of time the tidal wave
The room of being the bloody knave
The haunting of the bloody cave
From which the nazi hunter gave
The Jew his freedom’s only grave
Atonement splendid in the light of days.

Seasons

a tribute to Bob Dylan

over the land as time will tell
diminishing returns from all that is well
the flashing of lights, the ringing of bells
divisions of labour straight from the heart
the arrow that flies the snake in the grass
retelling stories from bibles and hymns
the mystical beating of mystical wings
sojourns fleetfoot with kith and with kin
feelings fleeing the prisons within
new wealth resisting new beginnings
startling from the heartening of the journeys within
the frozen moon, the idle wind encapsulating
the blissful scenes captured by the seeds of sin
& gathering storm’s senses to lock summer’s spring.

https://feversofthemind.com/2022/09/21/another-poem-by-clive-gresswell-inspired-by-leonard-cohen/

https://feversofthemind.com/2022/09/12/a-fevers-of-the-mind-quick-9-interview-with-clive-gresswell/

2 Poems about Bob Dylan’s themed bar in Northern English Mining Country by Laurence Morris

Dylan’s Bar, 2002

Take that tie off, for Christ’s sake –
you’ll get us both killed.

Then he’s elbow-deep at the bar
and I’m staking out the snug

as bloodshot eyes return to racing pinks,
no female weekday drinkers here.

I miss the ashtrays and pre-smartphone
boredom as a round was fetched,

the risk of eye contact with strangers,
the former marine and that disabled tutor

who urged me not to write,
there being too many words already.

Through it all comes lucid dreaming,
revealing the lie of the land.

We get out while we can

Having stalked the outer fjords of Greenland
and caught the spring on an altiplano breeze,
I am banned from climbing Mount Shuksan
in Cascading footsteps of Snyder and Kerouac
while young hares dance across the meadow,
having lost the latest six-dollar state lottery
for a federal wilderness area access permit,
and not holding a creative writing PhD.

Condemned instead to urban fairgrounds
from a cathedral spire I put my penny in the slot
to watch a thousand matchstick lawyers
dance their way along cobbled boulevards
as though life itself has rhyme or reason,
and if arranging an altarpiece offering
is allegedly a redeeming gesture of faith,
aligning cloth colour, God and sacrificant,
then climbing a mountain is no less a ritual,
the placement of both gear and flesh
a prayer towards a dialogue with rock,
subject to the proper paperwork, it seems.

There is always someone carving out an empire
from the flesh and joy of whoever occupied
a particular piece of administrative estate before,
library corridors and bookstacks ripe for realignment
as crosshairs narrow on still surviving native pine
and slipping loose from the holy matinee
to survey the latest map revision in Dylan’s Bar
is acceptance this love always was a losing hand
in a dying game which was long since rigged,
but still, even diesel-soaked horizons beckon
and so we get out where and while we can.



Bio: Laurence Morris works in academic libraries and is a fellow of the UK's Royal Geographical Society. His poems have been published in Confluence, Snakeskin, Shot Glass Journal, Dodging the Rain, The Broken Spine, 192 and elsewhere. He lives in the north of England and if not in a library is probably out walking in the rain.

Bob Dylan Inspired Poem from James Schwartz : Revolution & Rust

Revolution & Rust

The night falls fast,
His kiss grows cold,
Blowing in the wind,
Memories glow gold,

So many years, man,
Have kept us apart,
His Bob Dylan records,
My silence as we part,

The morning comes quick,
Pray to our lust,
Tonight we will sing,
Of revolution & rust.

https://youtu.be/1ST9TZBb9v8

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with James Schwartz
3 Poems by James Schwartz

Bio: James Schwartz is a poem, slam performer and author of various poetry collections including The Literary Party: Growing Up Gay and Amish in America (Kindle, 2011), Punatic (Writing Knights Press, 2019) & most recently Motor City mix (Alien Buddha Press, 2022)

The Watchtower by R.M. Engelhardt – Bob Dylan inspired poetry

The Watchtower

So which one are you troubadour?

With your guitar and lyrics 
Of change?

The joker who sits as witness?

The thief?

There are many here among us 
The tarot cards laid out upon our tables
The watchtower chosen :


Deception Destruction Ruin

Perhaps it was all a joke
Perhaps we did not listen in time
Hendrix gone all too soon

Never understanding the words

But the businessmen kept coming
Drinking up our wine, corporations
Destroying this earth 

And all along the watchtower
The princes kept view

But the hour is now
Too late 

And the voices were ignored

So what songs should we sing? 

If not the songs of troubadours
And the prophets who told us all?

The poets of lost time and 
Darker days who came & 
Bared witness to all

Now gone
Forever with the dust of time


~ R.M. Engelhardt

BIO: R.M. Engelhardt is a poet, writer & author who’s work over the last 20 years has been published in such journals as Thunder Sandwich, Full of Crow, Rusty Truck, Writers’ Resist, Dry Land Lit, Rye Whiskey Review, Hobo Camp Review & many others. He currently lives & writes in Upstate NY and his new books of poetry are entitled “DarkLands” (Published By Whiskey City Press 2019) & “We Rise Like Smoke Poems Psalms & Incantations” (Published by DeadMansPressInk 2021)

Both are now available on Amazon.com

Wolfpack Contributor: R.M. Engelhardt

http://www.gentlemanoutsider.com