Q&A with Josh Lanyon discussion
JUST FOR FUN
>
Read Me a Poem Sing Me a Song
Johanna wrote: "...And I always post poems everyone are familiar with already. ;-)Anyway, here's a small dose of Robert Frost coming your way. I quite like it.
DUST OF SNOW by Robert Frost
The way a crow
Shook..."
That made me smile. :-)
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I'm glad! :-)
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Anyway, here's a small dose of Robert Frost coming your way. I quite like it.
DUST OF SNOW by Robert Frost
The way a crow
Shook ..."
I love that one.
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Anyway, here's a small dose of Robert Frost coming your way. I quite like it.
DUST OF SNOW by Robert Frost
The way a crow
Shook ..."
I need a crow today.
Although the golden light on cottonwoods after the rain almost did the trick. : )
Calathea wrote: "Johanna wrote: "...And I always post poems everyone are familiar with already. ;-)Anyway, here's a small dose of Robert Frost coming your way. I quite like it.
DUST OF SNOW by Robert Frost
The ..."
Lovely! Made me smile too, thank you, Johanna!
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We have a hemlock tree in the garden and she looks decidedly pretty when covered with snow. No crows on this one but once in a while a magpie tries to sit on it. And neighbor's cats hide under her skirts. When there's wind she's swaying around her middle like she's dancing rumba, like no other tree in the garden. :-)
Calathea wrote: "We have a hemlock tree in the garden and she looks decidedly pretty when covered with snow. No crows on this one but once in a while a magpie tries to sit on it. And neighbor's cats hide under her ..."I can see this very vividly :-)
Johanna wrote: "...And I always post poems everyone is familiar with already. ;-)Anyway, here's a small dose of Robert Frost coming your way. I quite like it.
DUST OF SNOW by Robert Frost
The way a crow
Shook ..."
It was lovely.
I had to go and look up the Tsuga sieboldii . I thought that the Latin name would help me, but instead I've learned a new word in Italian, the hemlock tree is called tsuga ;-).
Calathea wrote: "We have a hemlock tree in the garden and she looks decidedly pretty when covered with snow. No crows on this one but once in a while a magpie tries to sit on it. And neighbor's cats hide under her ...":-)
I can now see this tree with her pretty shenanigans ;-)
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I love how those hemlock trees look. And yours sounds especially beautiful!
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BECLOUDED by Emily Dickinson
The sky is low, the clouds are mean,
A travelling flake of snow
Across a barn or through a rut
Debates if it will go.
A narrow wind complains all day
How some one treated him;
Nature, like us, is sometimes caught
Without her diadem.
Johanna wrote: "I got a lovely, early Christmas present from a friend: The Selected Poems of Emily Dickinson. I've been reading it by the twinkle of the Christmas tree this evening, snuggled in the c..."How lovely. It captures the feeling of winter so well.
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Lovely!
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THE SNOW MAN by Wallace Stevens
One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
Johanna wrote: "Here's a poem that somehow felt appropriate for today. I think it's beautiful and soulful... and deliciously complex somehow.THE SNOW MAN by Wallace Stevens
One must have a mind of winter..."
Very appropriate as we have just had the first sprinkling of snow in our part of the UK today but not yet enough for a snowman
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THE LOWER LEAVES OF THE TREES
by Sone No Yoshitada, translated by Kenneth Rexroth
The lower leaves of the trees
Tangle the sunset in dusk.
Awe spreads with
The summer twilight.
Johanna wrote: "I know it doesn't feel like summer yet, but one can always hope and dream... right? :-)THE LOWER LEAVES OF THE TREES
by Sone No Yoshitada, translated by Kenneth Rexroth
The lower leaves of the ..."
So beautiful, and hopes of summer :)
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THE LOWER LEAVES OF THE TREES
by Sone No Yoshitada, translated by Kenneth Rexroth
The lower leaves of the ..."
It seems that Kenneth Rexroth must be a master translator. So much of the sense of poetry comes through, and that's a gift.
Emily Dickenson: DeathBecause I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.
We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.
We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.
Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.
We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.
Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.
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THE LOWER LEAVES OF THE TREES
by Sone No Yoshitada, translated by Kenneth Rexroth
The lower leaves of the ..."
That's gorgeous.
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Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.
We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My..."
It's not that this is a comical poem, and yet it always me smile. I guess it's the blend of gentle humor and wry wisdom.
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Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.
We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My..."
I'm only now really getting to know Emily Dickinson's poetry (after Santa Claus brought me her poetry collection). And I quite like her voice.
Thank you for posting this one, Susinok!
The first lines of Dickenson's poem always makes me smile for some reason. I love her voice, too.
HJ shared in another thread---Leisure, by W.H. Davies
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?—
No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep and cows:
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance:
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
Reggie wrote: "HJ shared in another thread---Leisure, by W.H. Davies
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?—
No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep a..."
Oh, I like this.
Dust if you mustby Rose Milligan
Dust if you must, but wouldn't it be better
To paint a picture, or write a letter,
Bake a cake, or plant a seed;
Ponder the difference between want and need?
Dust if you must, but there's not much time,
With rivers to swim, and mountains to climb;
Music to hear, and books to read;
Friends to cherish, and life to lead.
Dust if you must, but the world's out there
With the sun in your eyes, and the wind in your hair;
A flutter of snow, a shower of rain,
This day will not come around again.
Dust if you must, but bear in mind,
Old age will come and it's not kind.
And when you go (and go you must)
You, yourself, will make more dust.
((A friend just posted this on FB.
Here what I found in the internet about the poem:
''Written by Mrs Rose Milligan from Lancaster in Lancashire, England
The poem was first published in the September 15th (21st edition) of 'The Lady' magazine in 1998.''))
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Thank you for posting this — a great message wrapped in words that bring a big smile in one's face.
Antonella wrote: "Dust if you mustby Rose Milligan
Dust if you must, but wouldn't it be better
To paint a picture, or write a letter,
Bake a cake, or plant a seed;
Ponder the difference between want and need?
Dus..."
Thank you, so very true, this :)
You are welcome. I thought it goes in the general direction we are all moving toward or wish we would move ;-)
Did you know you can sing all of Emily Dickenson's poems to 'The Yellow Rose of Texas'? Yup. You can't unhear THAT!!
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Oh. My. God. You made me test it too — and it works! :-)
And yes, it's extremely difficult to unheard it now. :-D
*Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me, lalalalalalalaa lalalalalalaaaaaa*
Steve wrote: Did you know...Johanna wrote: Oh. My. God...
I. Don't. Want. To. Go. There! Lol
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Johanna wrote: Oh. My. God...
I. Don't. Want. To. Go. There! Lol"
Yeah. Don't go there! You can still save yourself, Carlita! :-)
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I thought it goes in the general direction we are all moving toward or wish we would move ;-)"
That said, SOMEONE must dust for those of us with allergies. :-D
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WHY? WHY, OH DESTROYER OF SOULS, DID YOU HAVE TO SHARE THAT? :-D :-D :-D
Josh wrote: "Steve wrote: "Did you know you can sing all of Emily Dickenson's poems to 'The Yellow Rose of Texas'? Yup. You can't unhear THAT!!"WHY? WHY, OH DESTROYER OF SOULS, DID YOU HAVE TO SHARE THAT? :-D..."
I thought the same thing!
A poem to start the week:SWEET DARKNESS
When your eyes are tired
the world is tired also.
When your vision has gone,
no part of the world can find you.
Time to go into the dark
where the night has eyes
to recognize its own.
There you can be sure
you are not beyond love.
The dark will be your home
tonight.
The night will give you a horizon
further than you can see.
You must learn one thing.
The world was made to be free in.
Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.
Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn
anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive
is too small for you.
‘Sweet Darkness”
From River Flow
New and Selected Poems
© David Whyte and Many Rivers Press
Lovely, thank you for this gift on a Monday morning, dear Antonella.
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And here is the link to the whole article: Emotions Doesn’t Change Facts: Remembering Joseph Hansen by Bill Mohr
SHUTTING UP SHOP by Joseph Hansen
Lately, you realise it's all behind you,
You've said it all, there's nothing left to say,
The words you chose, the ideas that defined you
Were uttered long ago and far away.
Yes, a few strangers listened for a minute,
Some of them smiled and nodded, even spoke,
Seconded what you said, and the truth in it,
Lauded your words and what they could evoke.
But they had jobs to go to, lovers, cities
To bomb, children to feed, and words are never
In short supply among us, ironies, pities
Abound, and mouths to speak the words forever.
And then you're old, and come to realise
Words are not half as eloquent as sighs.
Thank you for the beautiful poem and for the article.ETA: the *very interesting* article, thanks to which I've ordered a *signed* copy of The dog : and other stories.
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And here is the lin..."
I read this and wish that Hansen had lived long enough to reap the benefits of a world with social media. A world where writers have all the feedback they could possibly desire -- and more.
Of course as outspoken and irascible as Hansen could be, he'd probably have had a tumultuous social media life. But he deserved to know -- and I don't think he ever really did -- how much his work was admired and loved. How many people he inspired.
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Of course as outspoken and irascible as Hansen could be, he'd probably have had a tumultuous social media life. But he deserved to know -- and I don't think he ever really did -- how much his work was admired and loved. How many people he inspired."
Yes. I couldn't agree more. Many of his later poems are so very heartbreaking to read. He clearly didn't realize how much he had actually accomplished with his writing. How loved he was.
Your comment on how Hansen's social media life would have probably been a tumultuous one makes me smile. Yes, I think that it most probably would've been that. :-)
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ETA: the *very interesting* article, thanks to which I've ordered a *signed* copy of The dog : and other stories."
Woohoo! :-) You will enjoy that one! And Hansen's autograph also — it looks a bit like a graffiti (font) to me. :-)
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And here is the lin..."
I so much appreciated this article, enjoying that kind of intelligent critical writing that I don't find much of these days — clear, literate, unpretentious, informed.
The poem is so good and very sad. He has a way with words, it hits me hard! If I am feeling sad by myself,his poems are not the right choice for me. I have then great problems to differ between his fears and loneliness and mine.
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I recommend a dose of Sara Teasdale. She is vastly underestimated these days. But she has a lovely, quiet optimism in the face of a lot of what I would call undramatic tragedy. And a truly lyrical sensibility. I find her very comforting.
Q&A with Josh Lanyon
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Anyway, here's a small dose of Robert Frost coming your way. I quite like it.
DUST OF SNOW by Robert Frost
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.