Read Me a Poem Sing Me a Song Showing 851-900 of 1,581

[Josh]

This is not exactly a poem, but it's a "Thanksgiving" song we learned when I was in elementary school. I think it was a fantasy even then, but I have fond memories of it. It's very nostalgic. Or maybe just kitschy.

Over the river and through the woods,
To grandmother's house we go;
The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh,
Through (the) white and drifted snow!

Over the river and through the woods,
Oh, how the wind does blow!
It stings the toes and bites the nose,
As over the ground we go.

Over the river and through the woods,
To have a first-rate play;
Oh, hear the bells ring, "Ting-a-ling-ling!"
Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!

Over the river and through the woods,
Trot fast, my dapple gray!
Spring over the ground,
Like a hunting hound!
For this is Thanksgiving Day.

Over the river and through the woods,
And straight through the barnyard gate.
We seem to go extremely slow
It is so hard to wait!

Over the river and through the woods,
Now Grandmother's cap I spy!
Hurrah for the fun! Is the pudding done?
Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!

[Varecia]

E. E. Cummings, "May I feel said He", read by Tom Hiddleston.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3eVBJ...

[Antonella]

Varecia wrote: "E. E. Cummings, "May I feel said He", read by Tom Hiddleston.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3eVBJ..."

Oh, wow! Thank you so much!

[Antonella]

Josh wrote: "This is not exactly a poem, but it's a "Thanksgiving" song we learned when I was in elementary school. I think it was a fantasy even then, but I have fond memories of it. It's very nostalgic. Or ma..."

That was nice and, yes, it sounded nostalgic even to me (I never had nothing to do with Thanksgiving).

[mc]

Cid Corman, "It isnt for want"

It isnt for want
of something to say--
something to tell you--

something you should know--
but to detain you--
keep you from going--

feeling myself here
as long as you are--
as long as you are.

[Josh]

mc wrote: "Cid Corman, "It isnt for want"

It isnt for want
of something to say--
something to tell you--

something you should know--
but to detain you--
keep you from going--

feeling myself here
as long as..."

Oh, isn't that lovely?

[Josh]

Varecia wrote: "E. E. Cummings, "May I feel said He", read by Tom Hiddleston.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3eVBJ..."

I think I may be secretly in love with Tom Hiddleston.

[Antonella]

mc wrote: "Cid Corman, "It isnt for want"

Thank you.

And I went to check Cid Corman, because I had never heard of him:
http://www.theguardian.com/news/2004/...

[mc]

One of my favorites. A stunning poet. Glad you liked it, Antonella and Josh.

[Calathea]

mc wrote: "Cid Corman, "It isnt for want"

It isnt for want
of something to say--
something to tell you--

something you should know--
but to detain you--
keep you from going--

feeling myself here
as long as..."

Hey you. Long time no see. I hope you're alright! :)

[Antonella]

I dwell in Possibility by Emily Dickinson

I dwell in Possibility –
A fairer House than Prose –
More numerous of Windows –
Superior – for Doors –

Of Chambers as the Cedars –
Impregnable of eye –
And for an everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky –

Of Visitors – the fairest –
For Occupation – This –
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise –


Source: The Poems of Emily Dickinson Edited by R. W. Franklin (Harvard University Press, 1999)

I've just stumbled on the Italian version of this poem online (and found out I left my ''Collected Poems'' in Italy). I think this is great even if you don't go and analyse it.

[mc]

Oh, my goodness, Antonella, the many times I've analyzed that for classes! But yes, there's a sonic quality to it that's pleasing regardless. Reading the work aloud should be a pleasure. I"m sure it's gorgeous in Italian.

Calathea! I am. It is a great thing to say: I am.

I hope you are thriving, dear one.

[Antonella]

The Guardian First Book Award went for the first time to a poet!

To honour Andrew McMillan here his long poem

Protest of the Physical

the centrepiece of the prizewinning collection Physical in which he explores the anxieties of modern man, reaching out from the experiences of gay men wrestling with their emotions and each others’ bodies to chart the gaps between appearance and reality in contemporary culture.
http://www.theguardian.com/books/2015...

[Johanna]

Josh wrote: "This is not exactly a poem, but it's a "Thanksgiving" song we learned when I was in elementary school. I think it was a fantasy even then, but I have fond memories of it. It's very nostalgic. Or ma..."

Sweet! :-)

[Johanna]

Varecia wrote: "E. E. Cummings, "May I feel said He", read by Tom Hiddleston.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3eVBJ..."

Oh yes! :-D

[Johanna]

mc wrote: "Cid Corman, "It isnt for want"

It isnt for want
of something to say--
something to tell you--

something you should know--
but to detain you--
keep you from going--

feeling myself here
as long as..."

So lovely. And so lovely to see you here, mc!

[Johanna]

Antonella wrote: "I dwell in Possibility by Emily Dickinson

I dwell in Possibility –
A fairer House than Prose –
More numerous of Windows –
Superior – for Doors –

Of Chambers as the Cedars –
Impregnable of eye –
A..."

Very nice.

[Johanna]

You guys inspired me to read some poems today. Here're a couple I found charming and wanted to share with you in return.

WHITE ROSE by Tom Pickard

you gave me a white rose
put the lamp on the stove
it caught fire
the I Ching said
thunder above the lake
lightning in Baker Street

switched on the cooker
and blew a fuse
blue flash
you see
the whole experience
is electric

[Johanna]

Here's another one:


BRIAN AGE SEVEN by Mark Doty

Grateful for their tour
of the pharmacy,
the first-grade class
has drawn these pictures,
each self-portrait taped
to the window-glass,
faces wide to the street,
round and available,
with parallel lines for hair.

I like this one best: Brian,
whose attenuated name
fills a quarter of the frame,
stretched beside impossible
legs descending from the ball
of his torso, two long arms
springing from that same
central sphere. He breathes here,

on his page. It isn’t craft
that makes this figure come alive;
Brian draws just balls and lines,
in wobbly crayon strokes.
Why do some marks
seem to thrill with life,
possess a portion
of the nervous energy
in their maker’s hand?

That big curve of a smile
reaches nearly to the rim
of his face; he holds
a towering ice cream,
brown spheres teetering
on their cone,
a soda fountain gift
half the length of him
—as if it were the flag

of his own country held high
by the unadorned black line
of his arm. Such naked support
for so much delight! Artless boy,
he’s found a system of beauty:
he shows us pleasure
and what pleasure resists.
The ice cream is delicious.
He’s frail beside his relentless standard.

[Calathea]

mc wrote: "Oh, my goodness, Antonella, the many times I've analyzed that for classes! But yes, there's a sonic quality to it that's pleasing regardless. Reading the work aloud should be a pleasure. I"m sure i..."

I'm so happy to hear that! Keep on doing that! :-)

[Antonella]

A sonnet heard this evening at the AIDS-Charity.

About the Seduction of an Angel by Bertolt Brecht (1948)

Angels can not be seduced at all or quickly.
Pull him into the entryway,
stick your tongue in his mouth and reach
under his robe, til he gets wet; put
his face to the wall, lift his robe
and fuck him. If he stares in anguish
then hold him tightly and let him come two times;
otherwise, by the end, he'll be in shock.
Admonish him so he sways his butt;
let him know he's free to grab your balls.
Tell him he can fall without fear
while he is hanging between earth and heaven -
but don't look him in the face while you are fucking him
and, for heaven's sake, don't crush his wings.

Über die Verführung von Engeln

Engel verführt man gar nicht oder schnell.
Verzieh ihn einfach in den Hauseingang
Steck ihm die Zunge in den Mund und lang
Ihm untern Rock, bis er sich naß macht, stell
Ihm das Gesicht zur Wand, heb ihm den Rock
Und fick ihn. Stöhnt er irgendwie beklommen
Dann halt ihn fest und laß ihn zweimal kommen
Sonst hat er dir am Ende einen Schock.
Ermahn ihn, dass er gut den Hintern schwenkt
Heiß ihn dir ruhig an die Hoden fassen
Sag ihm, er darf sich furchtlos fallen lassen
Dieweil er zwischen Erd und Himmel hängt –
Doch schau ihm nicht beim Ficken ins Gesicht
Und seine Flügel, Mensch, zerdrück sie nicht.

JFYI:

* It was a kind of joke because Brecht signed it as ''Thomas Mann'', a writer he didn't like, and never published it.
* ''Engel'' is grammatically male in German, the male pronoun was unavoidable, but interpretations about the sex of the angel are open.
* Some people saw almost a rape, but IMO it is not, see for ex. the care about letting the angel come twice, the verse ''he can fall without fear'' or the last two great lines.

[Varecia]

Antonella wrote: "A sonnet heard this evening at the AIDS-Charity.

About the Seduction of an Angel by Bertolt Brecht (1948)

Angels can not be seduced at all or quickly.
Pull him into the entryway,
stick your tongu..."

Signed as Thomas Mann, huh? Well, I never liked Brecht, but obviously he had a sense of humour after all!
Interesting poem, by the way, and thank you for the background information.

[Antonella]

Varecia wrote: "Signed as Thomas Mann, huh? Well, I never liked Brecht, but obviously he had a sense of humour after all!"

I like him. I still remember how delighted I was when I found his complete works (20 volumes) at a flea market for something like 20 dollars.

[Varecia]

Antonella wrote: "Varecia wrote: "Signed as Thomas Mann, huh? Well, I never liked Brecht, but obviously he had a sense of humour after all!"

I like him. I still remember how delighted I was when I found his complet..."

I love the Threepenny Opera and some of his poems. When I said that I don't like him, I meant that I have never been fond of him as a person, he makes my feminist hackles rise, the way he abused the women in his life. He's no exception in this, of cause, but in his case I found it somehow more disturbing.

[Antonella]

Varecia wrote: "When I said that I don't like him, I meant that I have never been fond of him as a person, he makes my feminist hackles rise, the way he abused the women in his life."

Oh, then I totally agree with you!

[Josh]

Antonella wrote: "A sonnet heard this evening at the AIDS-Charity.

About the Seduction of an Angel by Bertolt Brecht (1948)

Angels can not be seduced at all or quickly.
Pull him into the entryway,
stick your tongu..."

Hmm. I wonder what he was actually getting at if he signed it with the name of an author he despised.

[Antonella]

Someone posted an interesting interview about an interesting project on Alexis and Santino group: Whom We Decide To Lay With And Love Is Political. I shared it in another LGBT group, and someone posted this video: No Fats, No Femmes Documentary Intro. Great text, so I went looking for it. It is Litanies To My Heavenly Brown Body by Mark Aguhar.

[Susinok]

I found two ee cummings books when I cleared my shelves. I had forgotten about them. I didn't stop to read anything. But they made me smile.

[Josh]

Antonella wrote: "Someone posted an interesting interview about an interesting project on Alexis and Santino group: Whom We Decide To Lay With And Love Is Political. I shared it in another LGBT group, and someone po..."

Is Alexis also Santino?

[Josh]

A Winter Night Poem

My window-pane is starred with frost,
The world is bitter cold to-night,
The moon is cruel, and the wind
Is like a two-edged sword to smite.

God pity all the homeless ones,
The beggars pacing to and fro.
God pity all the poor to-night
Who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow.

My room is like a bit of June,
Warm and close-curtained fold on fold,
But somewhere, like a homeless child,
My heart is crying in the cold.


Sara Teasdale

[Antonella]

Josh wrote: "Is Alexis also Santino?"

LOL! No, they are on the same wavelength, but they are two very separate persons on two different continents:

- Alexis Hall: author of Glitterland, Prosperity, For Real and

- Santino Hassell who wrote the series «In the Company of Shadows», Sutphin Boulevard, Stygian.

[Antonella]

Josh wrote: "A Winter Night Poem

My window-pane is starred with frost,
The world is bitter cold to-night,
The moon is cruel, and the wind
Is like a two-edged sword to smite.

God pity all the homeless ones,..."

Beautiful, thank you!

[Susan]

Josh wrote: "A Winter Night Poem

My window-pane is starred with frost,
The world is bitter cold to-night,
The moon is cruel, and the wind
Is like a two-edged sword to smite.

God pity all the homeless ones,..."

This is lovely for so many reasons. Thank you.

[Johanna]

Josh wrote: "A Winter Night Poem

My window-pane is starred with frost,
The world is bitter cold to-night,
The moon is cruel, and the wind
Is like a two-edged sword to smite.

God pity all the homeless ones,..."

Thank you for posting this, Josh. I've gotten to know Sara Teasdale's work through you and she's become one of my very favorite poets. The simple, insightful way she shows us the world is so lovely in its clarity.

Nowadays I always have at least one of her poem collections on my night stand — along with the complete works of Robert Frost and at least one of Joseph Hansen books. :-)

[Josephine]

Sharing a favorite:

Sonnet 18 by Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st;
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

And sharing one I wrote for my mom a long, long time ago:

https://josephinelitonjua.wordpress.c...

[Judy]

Josephine wrote: "And sharing one I wrote for my mom a long, long time ago:..."

Beautiful, Josephine. Thank you for sharing.

[Josephine]

Judy wrote: "Josephine wrote: "And sharing one I wrote for my mom a long, long time ago:..."

Beautiful, Josephine. Thank you for sharing."

Thanks for reading, Judy! It was her birth anniversary yesterday. :)

[Loretta]

Josephine wrote: "Judy wrote: "Josephine wrote: "And sharing one I wrote for my mom a long, long time ago:..."

Beautiful, Josephine. Thank you for sharing."

Thanks for reading, Judy! It was her birth anniversary y..."

That was lovely, Josephine.

[Josephine]

Loretta wrote: That was lovely, Josephine.

@Loretta, thank you sooo much for reading! <3 I'm glad you liked it.

Here is the poem that made me love poems. I'm sure everyone is familiar with it. Read this when I was on fifth grade and never turned back. :D

from Sonnets from the Portuguese by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

XLIII

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men might strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,–I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!–and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

[Josh]

Antonella wrote: "Josh wrote: "Is Alexis also Santino?"

LOL! No, they are on the same wavelength, but they are two very separate persons on two different continents:

- Alexis Hall: author of [boo..."

AH! That's an interesting alliance. I have read Alexis, for sure. And I really want to read that spec fic detective series!

(edited to add: HEY! Stop laughing at me! :-D)

[Josh]

Johanna wrote: "Josh wrote: "A Winter Night Poem

My window-pane is starred with frost,
The world is bitter cold to-night,
The moon is cruel, and the wind
Is like a two-edged sword to smite.

God pity all the h..."

I love Teasdale so much. I know she's dated, but then...hell, so am I! :-D

[Josh]

Josephine wrote: "Sharing a favorite:

Sonnet 18 by Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath..."


So very touching. Jho.

[Josh]

Josephine wrote: "Loretta wrote: That was lovely, Josephine.

@Loretta, thank you sooo much for reading! <3 I'm glad you liked it.

Here is the poem that made me love poems. I'm sure everyone is familiar with it. Re..."

This remains a powerful work despite the fact that it has been so parodied and mocked. The test of time. That's the one.

[Josephine]

Josh wrote: "So very touching. Jho."

@Josh: Agree. So very beautiful, too.

Josh wrote: "This remains a powerful work despite the fact that it has been so parodied and mocked. The test of time. That's the one."

Oh, I didn't know that. :( Thanks for the info. It was mentioned in a Sweet Valley High book that I was reading when I was ten. I searched our library for it until I found a copy.

[Josh]

Josephine wrote: "Josh wrote: "So very touching. Jho."

@Josh: Agree. So very beautiful, too.

Josh wrote: "This remains a powerful work despite the fact that it has been so parodied and mocked. The test of time. T..."

Yes, but that's really the point. This work withstands centuries. You can stick gum on its nose and it still glows from within. I'm not kidding. This is what every writer secretly aspires to: to outlast your own immediate fame.

[Josephine]

Josh wrote: "This work withstands centuries. You can stick gum on its nose and it still glows from within. I'm not kidding. This is what every writer secretly aspires to: to outlast your own immediate fame."

Agree. I was thinking of the same thing while posting it, both Shakespeare's and Browning's. How those works remain in the heart of the many long after the writers have gone. Indeed, these works withstood the test of time. <3 <3 <3

Posting yet another timeless poem dear to me. Because it reminded me of my much younger, much braver self.

"Invictus"
William Ernest Henley (1849–1903)

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

[Judy]

Josephine wrote: "Invictus"
William Ernest Henley (1849–1903)"

Powerful. And if only I was as brave now as I was in my youth. Thanks for sharing Josephine.

[Antonella]

De Tudo Ficaram Três Coisas by Fernando Sabino

De tudo ficaram três coisas:
A certeza de que estamos começando,
A certeza de que é preciso continuar e
A certeza de que podemos ser interrompidos antes de terminar

Fazer da interrupção um caminho novo,
Fazer da queda um passo de dança,
Do medo uma escada,
Do sonho uma ponte,
Da procura um encontro.


In All, There Were Three Things

In all, there were three things:
the certainty one is always beginning
the certainty one must go further
and the certainty that one will be interrupted before finishing.

From the interruptions, to make a new path,
from falling, a dance step,
from fear, a ladder
from dream, a bridge,
from search, an encounter

I found the translation by Cecilia Ramon and Sheila Packa here and they attribute the poem to Fernando Pessoa. IMO it's from the other Fernando, from O Encontro Marcado.

[Johanna]

Thank you, Josephine and Antonella.

[Josh]

Josephine wrote: "Josh wrote: "This work withstands centuries. You can stick gum on its nose and it still glows from within. I'm not kidding. This is what every writer secretly aspires to: to outlast your own immedi..."

Lovely.

You know, if we are less brave as we age, it's only because we now have something to lose. ;-) No one is braver than a dumbass kid.