A, B, Q, R, S, T, U, V
song-title sonnets and playlists
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As promised, I circled back around to fill in my gaps in Writer Pilgrim by So Elite’s month-of-May song-title poetry challenge — and got my entries in just before the clock struck midnight on May 31, 2024.
So I’m reposting the letters I’d missed along the way: A, B, Q, R, S, T, U, and V. I followed the rules and limited myself strictly to song titles (with some poetic license applied to capitalization and punctuation) and I made them all into fourteen-liners, which you might therefore call pseudo-sonnets. I also created, as best I could with what’s available, Spotify playlists that correspond to the poems.
Allison Russell Persephone the runner, the returner — Eve was black, rag child — stay right here, you’re not alone, nightflyer: all of the women, the hunters, demons, everything I wanted all without within by your side.
Björk Come to me violently happy like someone in love. I miss you Isobel, it’s oh so quiet. You’ve been flirting again — possibly maybe big time sensuality. It’s not up to you — an echo, a stain, quicksand. All is full of love, all neon like.
The Quizlings I am the robotman, come join me in the outerspace of my dreams you beautiful people. How hot does it have to get until the haters start to love? Who do you think you are sunrise rider? I’ve been down this road crazy shaking angry. It doesn’t do me no good, Mrs. Flash Gordon. Won’t you be my neighbor all ye who labor?
The Ramones Listen to my heart: Sheena is a punk rocker; I don’t wanna walk around with you, I don’t wanna go down to the basement, I wanna be your boyfriend. I remember you — Do you wanna dance? Do you remember rock n roll radio? Rock ’n’ Roll High School? Blitzkrieg bop? Gimme gimme shock treatment, I wanna be sedated — teenage lobotomy — I just want to have something to do.
Bruce Springsteen It’s hard to be a saint in the city racing in the street, tougher than the rest out in the street. I wish I were blind, blinded by the light, lost in the flood, born to run. Darkness on the edge of town, my hometown, I’m goin’ down, downbound train meeting across the river — the river.
Tori Amos Cornflake girl, abnormally attracted to sin, sleeps with butterflies. You can bring your dog Mr. Bad Man, putting the damage on. In the springtime of his voodoo I can’t see New York, maybe California. Don’t make me come to Vegas, Mrs. Jesus, bouncing off clouds. Welcome to England, another girl’s paradise.
U2 I threw a brick through a window staring at the sun where the streets have no name — two hearts beat as one. I still haven’t found what I’m looking for when I look at the world with or without you stuck in a moment you can’t get out of. I will follow in a little while until the end of the world running to stand still. I fall down when love comes to town.
Van Morrison Sweet thing, moondance, these dreams of you when that evening sun goes down come running into the mystic hymns to the silence, the eternal Kansas City brand new day, crazy love, and it stoned me hungry for your love — I wanna roo you, Natalia.
I just found your Substack today. How delightful to read your poems on a Sunday morning. I will buck the trend and go with the Ramones as my favorite. The irreverence of the Ramones always made me smile.
Loved your sonnets! Especially the poem that rhymes!