Sunset at the top of Beachwood Canyon
(I wrote this poem in honor of the neighborhood where Roberta and I have lived for the last nine years: Beachwood Canyon in LA, situated right beneath the Hollywood sign. Lately we've felt more at home here than ever, as we are blessed with wonderful neighbors. We've met so many kind, creative folks on the streets or in a couple of informal groups that gather in the canyon - the Hollywood Orchard, the "Birdhouse" community, the Besant Lodge crew, and a new thing called the "Band of Singers". An ode to the canyon has been long overdue. (Note to non-Angelenos - the last stanza lists other canyons in LA.))
An Ode To Beachwood Canyon
By Jim Burklo 11-13-17
Coyotes howled unheard
On cliffs of black and white
Klieg lights crossed and turned
Against the grainy night
Herds of deer would leap
On slopes of oak and brush
Where starlets came to sleep
Beneath the canyon’s hush
Chickens squawked and scratched
And mystics came to pray
Where movie plots were hatched
And horses chewed their hay
Decades came and fled
The talkies changed the game
Black lipstick turned to red
The canyon kept the flame
Of hope that just won’t fade
While day jobs pay the bills
We start out on the grade
And head up for the hills
Dogs lead us up the street
To find our human kind
On stairways where we meet
And let ourselves unwind
Our wood won’t see the beach
This movie’s going to end
Our rent is out of reach
The parking’s round the bend
But greenlight’s on the way
Auditions coming soon
Our script is going to play
The agent likes our tune
Topanga has its tribe
And Laurel, let it rest
Sure, Nichols has a vibe
But Beachwood is the best.