The Vagabondage Art of Don Blanding
Tho he tried very hard to have an aura of the "Lover Poet" he Fought in 2 world wars and used his fame for many charities, That aside, he kept homes or rentals in the Hawaiian islands, Portland, New Mexico, Honolulu, and Hollywood.
It was said that he had a kind gentry female friend in every Exotic port, spoke many languages and was a spy for many Different countries.
He drew romantic pictures of every visit he made to these Faraway places and then wrote poems to follow the pictures.
These picture poem books sold like candy to
"Midnight Full Moon Romance Lovers"
All over the world. he would stay with friends in faraway Places, leave in the night without warning, And as a "thank You Note" leave an entire bathroom wall Covered with his Romantic exotic island adventures in art.
He was known as extreamly kind, sarcastic with glowing wit And word, and yet "Saintly" well mannered, but quick to tell The jealious prudes of his life style to go to hell, all while being impeccably dressed.
He said he was in "Vaga-boundage" to roam and wine and dine The mysterious, places, men and woman of this world, even the Movie "Casablanca" and its main star "Rick" played by Humphry Bogart was styled after Don Blanding, as well was "The Saint" whose movies with hero
Was cast as a poet and a tricktser and artist.
It is said Don Blanding went to bed at 3:30 am and rose at 11:30 am as a life style.
At these quiet times, living around the world in exotic places, he drew romantic art and wrote poems like the following below
Love, Romance, Passion and Mystery was truly apart of his aura plus he may leave a beautiful picture in the Guest bedroom wall if he stayed at your home.
His associates where Amealia Airehart, wallace Berry, Joan Crawford and many others.
West of the sunset stands my house,
There .....and east of the dawn
North the artic runs my yard
south to the pole runs my lawn
Fabuious cities are my loot,
Queens of the world mine to wed,
The Couchs of kings are my bed.
All that I see is mine to keep,
Foolish......this fancy seems
But I am rich with the wealth of sight
And the coin of my realm is dreams.
A handful of memories
A small cup of sorrow.
A flagon of happiness
in faith in tomarrow.
A measure of taking
A measure of giving,
A curious jumble
this business of living
When i have a house.....as I sometimes may,
I suit my fancy with it in every way.
My grass house stands by the open sea,
on a bit of beach that belongs to me.
And I paid,.......... but don't remember the price
for this my small acre of paradise.
The great southern cross hangs nightly over my door,
And the moonlight throws silver across the floor
While the surf makes thunder along the beach
And the rainbows end is always
with in my reach.
We are the restless ones...who walk alone
Down a long byway through the bright stared unknown.
Lured by the bright mirage of changing skys and faces,
Forests and jungles and white frozen places.
Ready to bid love hello or farwell
With the same light gesture,
Now having conquered its spell.
I don't suppose I'll ever see
A wood fairy slipping down from her tree
Nor hear the pulsing pipes of pan
Although at times i sware I can.
Or see the moon nymphs dance at night
And yet perhaps ...I might.
I watch the waves break on the rocks
And in between the thunder shocks
I think that I can almost hear
The mermaid sirens singing sweet and clear.
I don't suppose I'll ever see
These things that mean so very much to me.
But if I watch by night, by day
You can not tell
Perhaps i may.
Now that the shadows of twilight are stealing into the corners of my room , I'll open the covers of my favorites books, then if i sit very still and watch through the waeving magic of my ciggerette smoke, I may see these well loved charactors stepping quietly forth from the thumbed pages, huck finn, or Saomel, Galahad, Eve and her Adam, and Moby Dick.
One by one they whisper their curious stories stories until I turn on the lights of evening, the arch enimy of dreams.
But If I listen I can hear the rustle of their garments, the echoes of their laughter and the faint murmur of their voices in and by the shelves.
The Right Touch
Love will fly if held too tightly.
Love will die if held too lightly.
Lightly........Tightly........How do I know
Whether i am killing or letting go
WHEN FRIENDSHIP FAILS
When friendship fails and removes a mask
Revealing selfish lust that makes loyalty a task;
When passions flames are buried to smoky ash
and joys a memory and laughters trash;
When all thats clean and fine and best in you
Is slimed by one you love...... when all you do
is not enough by half
And life is a jest,
A sorry one at at that, when you detest
The memory of all the tender things you gave in love
And wish by God you where dead,
Ah....then...so the poets say
Blue skys are healing
Some find the babble of a brook appealing,,
Some walk walk the night in starry contemplation,
But for me right now
Such things are darned poor consolation.
SONG OF THE SEVEN SENSES
With seven flowery chains we two are held,
With seven strands of sensious delight,
Together through this madly wonderious night.
I love my, more firmly will i weld
each fragile link into another chain
and if it breaks if it breaks I fasten it again.
She's where the surf makes thunder along the beach
And the rainbows end is within my reach
Clever of you to leave your glove behind
Touched with a bit of delicate perfume.
You knew I catch the fragrence in this room.
Ansd summon your vivid image to mind.
FLOWERS OF THE RAINBOW
The rainbow is a heaven where dead flowers go
To bloom again as fresh, fragrant and bright
As when they graced the garden
through the golden glow
Of Summer days and gloried
In the suns delight.
DAWN IN THE ISLANDS
Black out of blackness
Mountains taking form.
The sun behind grey clouds
A hint of rain.
And now colors seeping into things again.
Shy green, pale blue and yellow thinly warm.
We saw a fire fly flote through the night
Glimmering, fitfully, like a vagabond star trailing its light .
"Oh catch it ! you cried",
I caught it and brought it, you took it and sighed
as you peered at its glow, faint and frail.
you said "oh its only a bug with a light in its tail"
We had this moment exqusitly bright,
it dazzled our hearts with its sparkling star light.
you said "lets catch this moment and hold it".
But I sighed, remembering another night the fire fly flyed,
Me, wondering how long it will be until you too wail,
"our love is only a bug with a light in its tail!"
Passion has been a rider with spurs
A glaze of ice and a cloak of flame,
A rocket that soared me to the skys,
And a will o' the wisp through swamps of shame.
Passion has been a wound and a hurt,
Ajoy, a song of blinding light,
Burning dawn and a mystery,
Shackles and wings for godlike flight.
All of these it has been, and a teacher too,
Cause when it wanes I shall never grieve it.
I'll only sigh with a smile to say,
"Now at last, I can take or leave it".
A Thousand Lives
I know i've lived a thousand lusty lives
I've known all passions, griefs, and joys that nimble man contrives
To give the rythmes of his days a richly varied range
I've walked the the road, a vagabond, through endless time
Two ways my restless feet have sought, two trails that are really one, my feet have trod.
The flowered path to beauty's shrine, the weary clime to God.
"TIS A FOLLY TO BE WISE"
"I will be wise in love" I said and I sought
this wisdom from the wise ones I thought were wise.
Full well I learned the lessons that were taught
Paying with my youth and star dust from my eyes.
As women coached my clumsey heart and lips
To play the sense songs subtle rythme through
I bartered dreams with un-tutored hope filled lips.
So i might learn the seven kisses that she knew.
And in choosing exits I was quickly skilled.
I learned the "Love duels" thrust, fane and guard
I learned to drain the cup yet keep it filled
To light the flames and yet walk through un-scarred.
. . . . .
Now I'd trade my sorry bag of tricks for all just this....
To give and get a single sincere fumbling untaught kiss.
It does not matter when I go
Nor how or why,
Each day a million roses blow
And another million die.
For every bird that lives to sing,
Some where a song is stilled.
But I go ........ remembering
My place was filled with
Poetic life, love, dine and drink
For this short while I may stay,
So when my number called,
I'll just say, fine "O.K."
I try to live each day
In such a way
That when tomarrow makes today a yesterday,
I will have woven into the fabric of my life
Some gay desigh,
Some patch of Color,
Bright to please the eye
So that, in the greying years to come,
When all the quick responsive senses dull
I may look back aross the patterens of my past
And, in my memory,
Relive all the joys and pains
Of of all my well lived yesterdays.
Born November 7, 1894 – Said to death June 9, 1957-
" OK Thats Fine"