'My Paradise Lost'
In 1993, Jan Eloise Morris wrote a poem about my experiences and life influences
as a result of having seen The Doors in concert five times as a young woman.
We spent several hours talking at my home as I reminisced and told her about my impressions and related stories.
She poignantly captured my passion for the music and the band in this poem, including many details that I mentioned in passing as we talked.
She later included the poem on her site along with other poetry she has written, and dedicated it to me and to Doors fans all over the world on the 28th anniversary of Jim's death.
Please read that poem below, or else on her site at:
And then, check out the rest of her site by returning to her home page at:
return to Ida'sL.A. Woman Confidential home page
for more Doors news and reviews
'My Paradise Lost' by Jan Eloise Morris
In the blink of an eye comes life changing passion.
She remembers the night it all began,
The feel of electricity in the air.
The taste of uncertainty....Look!
First sight of perfection,
First hint of baritone.
First cords of an old Vox Continental,
First scream of a Gibson SG,
First shots from a Ludwig snare.
A welcome night on the town
Led to a lifetime of dedication.
Five to one, One in five,
Who can say they experienced five alive?
From Asbury Park to Madison Square Garden,
Through three short years she gathered
Memories for a life time.
And the first carnal notes of Light My Fire
Can turn back time.....
Shafts of white light once again carve out the images.
At the edge of darkness, surrounded by metal and skin,
His talking sticks pierce the air,
Crescendo vocal exclamations.
Blonde hair pours over electric keys,
The burning remnants of incense twist
and linger about his head.
Across the universe, a spark of cherry red fire
Leaps from his guitar.
In a quiet, watchful stance he anticipates
Each unpredictable movement in front of him.
And in the center of a whirling galaxy,
The white shirt casts off celestial light,
A tall leather figure sways and strikes out territory.
Once again he bows his head, lifts his hand in peace,
Turns to disappear into the night.
In the sweltering dawn of a summer morning
The deejay's voice awakens her to the nightmare.
How could it be? How could he leave without goodbye?
Lost forever, the nights of magic.
The memories cherished by a precious few.
And she keeps the remnants boxed safely away.
The albums of neatly clipped newspaper, delicate photographs,
Glossy magazines from the past.
If luck won't favor you a glimpse of her treasures,
You need only read the story in her eyes.
Through the years and great distance
He has watched over her little family,
Shielded her home from fire,
Frightened away intruders,
Smiled softly at her rituals.
Faithfully she pays tribute to each of them,
From Paris to the Sunset Strip she travels to pay respect.
And as the last sounds of L.A. Woman fade from the air,
She takes one last look in the mirror,
Pats the kitty goodbye,
And takes her youth with her
As she heads for a new night on the town.
"A man searching for lost Paradise
Can seem a fool to those who never
sought the other world"
------- James Douglas Morrison
Paradise Lost was written for Ida Miller in 1993
and is dedicated to her and Doors Fans across the world on this 28th anniversary of Jim's death
Rest In Peace fallen
Your battles rage on ...