The Torch Is Burning with Constance DeWitt and Leland Meadows:
Playlist
from January 15, 2021
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View Constance De Witt's profile
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View Leland Meadows's profile
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Treasured moments, reveries of romance and sentimental soliloquies.
On
WFMU's
Sheena's Jungle Room
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| Artist | Track | Album | Year | Images | Approx. start time | |||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Lincoln Mayorga And Distinguished Colleagues |
We've Only Just Begun
|
The Missing Linc (Volume II) | 1974 |
|
0:00:00 (Pop-up) | |||||
| Cal Tjader |
What The World Needs Now
|
Cal Tjader Sounds out Burt Bacharach | 1968 |
|
0:09:51 (Pop-up) | |||||
| Nina & Frederik |
The Many Faces Of Love
|
Lovers Of The World Unite! | 1967 |
|
0:13:52 (Pop-up) | |||||
| Johnny Lytle |
A Man and a Woman
|
A Man And A Woman | 1967 |
|
0:23:53 (Pop-up) | |||||
| Anthony Quinn with The Harold Spina Singers and Orchestra |
I Love You, You Love Me
|
In My Own Way...I Love You | 1969 |
|
0:27:01 (Pop-up) | |||||
| 101 Strings |
Never My Love
|
Sounds of Today | 1967 |
|
0:33:28 (Pop-up) | |||||
| Claudine Longet |
Nothing To Lose
|
7" | 1968 |
|
0:35:52 (Pop-up) | |||||
| Claude Denjean & Synthesizer |
Theme from "Love Story"
|
Open Circuit | 1973 |
|
0:41:47 (Pop-up) | |||||
| Stéphane Venne |
Premiere Nuit
|
7" | 1971 |
|
0:45:32 (Pop-up) | |||||
| Lincoln Mayorga And Distinguished Colleagues |
Love Rach
|
The Missing Linc (Volume II) | 1974 |
|
0:50:32 (Pop-up) | |||||
| Paul Reid |
The Day Is Done
|
A Letter To My Love | 1967 |
|
0:52:29 (Pop-up) | |||||
| The Dave Shaw Ten |
Aftermath Of Love (From "Bullitt")
|
Themes | 1973 |
|
0:56:00 (Pop-up) | |||||
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Listener comments!
Leland Meadows:
Constance De Witt:
Well Played:
ultradamno:
Kat in Chicago:
ultradamno:
Scott67:
chresti:
ironybread:
ultradamno:
Constance De Witt:
CC:
Hank D:
Scott67:
CC:
chresti:
Franco Twinkie:
Scott67:
Well Played:
ultradamno:
Well Played:
Scott67:
chresti:
Well Played:
Franco Twinkie:
CC:
Well Played:
Kat in Chicago:
ultradamno:
Well Played:
Scott67:
Franco Twinkie:
ironybread:
Well Played:
CC:
Scott67:
chresti:
Franco Twinkie:
Well Played:
Scott67:
Hank D:
chresti:
ultradamno:
CC:
chresti:
Kat in Chicago:
Franco Twinkie:
Scott67:
Scott67:
Franco Twinkie:
Kat in Chicago:
chresti:
CC:
Scott67:
ultradamno:
Scott67:
Hank D:
Kat in Chicago:
ultradamno:
CC:
ultradamno:
CC:
Scott67:
Scott67:
Hank D:
ultradamno:
ironybread:
Constance De Witt:
Scott67:
Scott67:
CC:
Scott67:
chresti:
ironybread:
ultradamno:
CC:
Well Played:
Scott67:
chresti:
CC:
Hank D:
Well Played:
Scott67:
chresti:
Mom:
ultradamno:
Constance De Witt:
Scott67:
CC:
Hank D:
Well Played:
ironybread:
Scott67:
ultradamno:
chresti:
ironybread:
Scott67:
Well Played:
ironybread:
CC:
Scott67:
Well Played:
Scott67:
ultradamno:
Scott67:
In a world of fast cars.
Hank D:
Why Do We Fight The Windmill?
Corporate Giants
ultradamno:
Scott67:
Mom:
Well Played:
to be born into
if you don’t mind happiness
not always being
so very much fun
if you don’t mind a touch of hell
now and then
just when everything is fine
because even in heaven
they don’t sing
all the time
The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don’t mind some people dying
all the time
or maybe only starving
some of the time
which isn’t half so bad
if it isn’t you
Oh the world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don’t much mind
a few dead minds
in the higher places
or a bomb or two
now and then
in your upturned faces
or such other improprieties
as our Name Brand society
is prey to
with its men of distinction
and its men of extinction
and its priests
and other patrolmen
and its various segregations
and congressional investigations
and other constipations
that our fool flesh
is heir to
Yes the world is the best place of all
for a lot of such things as
making the fun scene
and making the love scene
and making the sad scene
and singing low songs of having
inspirations
and walking around
looking at everything
and smelling flowers
and goosing statues
and even thinking
and kissing people and
making babies and wearing pants
and waving hats and
dancing
and going swimming in rivers
on picnics
in the middle of the summer
and just generally
‘living it up’
Yes
but then right in the middle of it
comes the smiling
mortician
From A Coney Island of the Mind, copyright ©1955 by Lawrence Ferlinghetti. Reprinted by permission of New Directions Publishing Corp.
Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Poet and translator Lawrence Ferlinghetti is the author of more than thirty books of poetry and the founder of City Lights Booksellers & Publishers in San Francisco, California.
More Lawrence Ferlinghetti >
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More by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Poetry as Insurgent Art [I am signaling you through the flames]
I am signaling you through the flames.
The North Pole is not where it used to be.
Manifest Destiny is no longer manifest.
Civilization self-destructs.
Nemesis is knocking at the door.
What are poets for, in such an age?
What is the use of poetry?
The state of the world calls out for poetry to save it.
If you would be a poet, create works capable of answering the challenge of apocalyptic times, even if this meaning sounds apocalyptic.
You are Whitman, you are Poe, you are Mark Twain, you are Emily Dickinson and Edna St. Vincent Millay, you are Neruda and Mayakovsky and Pasolini, you are an American or a non-American, you can conquer the conquerors with words....
Lawrence Ferlinghetti
2007
A Far Rockaway of the Heart, 2
Driving a cardboard automobile without a license
at the turn of the century
my father ran into my mother
on a fun-ride at Coney Island
having spied each other eating
in a French boardinghouse nearby
And having decided right there and then
that she was for him entirely
he followed her into
the playland of that evening
where the headlong meeting
of their ephemeral flesh on wheels
hurtled them forever together
And I now in the back seat
of their eternity
reaching out to embrace them
Lawrence Ferlinghetti
1997
A Coney Island of the Mind, 11
The wounded wilderness of Morris Graves
is not the same wild west
the white man found
It is a land that Buddha came upon
from a different direction
It is a wild white nest
in the true mad north
of introspection
where ‘falcons of the inner eye’
dive and die
glimpsing in their dying fall
all life’s memory
of existence
and with grave chalk wing
draw upon the leaded sky
a thousand threaded images
of flight
It is the night that is their ‘native habitat’
these ‘spirit birds’ with bled white wings
these droves of plover
bearded eagles
blind birds singing
in glass fields
these moonmad swans and ecstatic ganders
trapped egrets
charcoal owls
trotting turtle symbols
these pink fish among mountains
shrikes seeking to nest
whitebone drones
mating in air
among hallucinary moons
And a masked bird fishing
in a golden stream
and an ibis feeding
‘on its own breast’
and a stray Connemara Pooka
(life size)
And then those blown mute birds
bearing fish and paper messages
between two streams
which are the twin streams
of oblivion
wherein the imagination
turning upon itself
with white electric vision
refinds itself still mad
and unfed
among the hebrides
Lawrence Ferlinghetti
ironybread:
She wrote that poem just for me, but not to keep. She’d only lent it.
And I was hungry, so — I spent it.
Hank D:
Well Played:
CC:
ultradamno:
chresti:
Scott67:
Franco Twinkie:
Scott67:
Well Played:
ultradamno:
Scott67:
Leaves shed sweet tears
Grass green with drink.
Well Played:
chresti:
CC:
Well Played:
Scott67:
chresti:
CC:
Scott67:
StringOFperils:
Scott67:
chresti:
StringOFperils:
Scott67:
Well Played:
Well Played:
StringOFperils:
Constance De Witt:
Franco Twinkie:
ultradamno:
CC:
Scott67:
Constance De Witt:
Mx. Granny (e/em):
chresti:
Well Played:
Well Played:
Mx. Granny (e/em):
CC:
Scott67:
Well Played:
Mx. Granny (e/em):
Franco Twinkie:
chresti:
Well Played:
Kat in Chicago:
Mx. Granny (e/em):
Scott67:
ultradamno:
Well Played:
Constance De Witt:
Scott67:
Leland Meadows:
Franco Twinkie: