Read Me a Poem Sing Me a Song Showing 551-600 of 1,581

[Karen]

Anne wrote: "Both these stories and many similar ones, like all the soldiers shot by their own for instance (called friendly fire, a terrible expression if there ever was one),says something about what war does..."

Eloquently said.

[Johanna]

Can't believe what happened to Malaysian Airlines plane today — such shocking news. It made me come back to the last posts on this thread and I can't help but cry.

[Carlita]

THE HORIZON
Life is eternal, and love is immortal,
And death is only a horizon;
And a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.
— Rossiter Worthington Raymond

[Karen]

Johanna wrote: "Can't believe what happened to Malaysian Airlines plane today — such shocking news. It made me come back to the last posts on this thread and I can't help but cry."

Unbelievable. Twists my guts and my heart.

[Sabine]

Karen wrote: "Johanna wrote: "Can't believe what happened to Malaysian Airlines plane today — such shocking news. It made me come back to the last posts on this thread and I can't help but cry."

Unbelievable. T..."
Yes, it is terrible, I'm lost for words...

[Antonella]

Johanna wrote: "Can't believe what happened to Malaysian Airlines plane today — such shocking news. It made me come back to the last posts on this thread and I can't help but cry."

Have you heard of the researchers and activists travelling to the International AIDS Conference and killed in the crash?

http://www.thenewcivilrightsmovement....

[Johanna]

Antonella wrote: "Johanna wrote: "Can't believe what happened to Malaysian Airlines plane today — such shocking news. It made me come back to the last posts on this thread and I can't help but cry."

Have you heard ..."

Yes, I heard about that this morning. What a tragedy inside a tragedy. That is a severe loss for AIDS research. And it also seems that we've lost a bunch of brilliant people who were human rights activists.

http://www.nbcnews.com/storyline/ukra...

[Johanna]

Carlita wrote: "THE HORIZON
Life is eternal, and love is immortal,
And death is only a horizon;
And a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.
— Rossiter Worthington Raymond"

Thank you for posting this, Carlita. I've never heard it before. It sure fits for today — and for many other days, too.

[Carlita]

I thought so as well, Johanna

[Antonella]

In a solidarity action ''Librarians and Archivists with Palestine''
distributed in New York bookmarks with bits of Palestinian literature, for ex. with the poem ''What I Will'' by Suheir Hammad. Here she is reciting it.

I will not
dance to your war
drum. I will
not lend my soul nor
my bones to your war
drum. I will
not dance to your
beating. I know that beat.
It is lifeless. I know
intimately that skin
you are hitting. It
was alive once
hunted stolen
stretched. I will
not dance to your drummed
up war. I will not pop
spin beak for you. I
will not hate for you or
even hate you. I will
not kill for you. Especially
I will not die
for you. I will not mourn
the dead with murder nor
suicide. I will not side
with you nor dance to bombs
because everyone else is
dancing. Everyone can be
wrong. Life is a right not
collateral or casual. I
will not forget where
I come from. I
will craft my own drum. Gather my beloved
near and our chanting
will be dancing. Our
humming will be drumming. I
will not be played. I
will not lend my name
nor my rhythm to your
beat. I will dance
and resist and dance and
persist and dance. This heartbeat is louder than
death. Your war drum ain’t
louder than this breath.

[Anne]

Antonella wrote: "In a solidarity action ''Librarians and Archivists with Palestine''
distributed in New York bookmarks with bits of Palestinian literature, for ex. with the poem ''What I Will'' by Suheir Hammad...."

Lovely and powerful, Antonella. Thank you for this.

[Josh]

Anne wrote: "Antonella wrote: "In a solidarity action ''Librarians and Archivists with Palestine''
distributed in New York bookmarks with bits of Palestinian literature, for ex. with the poem ''What I Will''..."

If only more people would choose not to dance to that war drum.

[Antonella]

Josh wrote: "If only more people would choose not to dance to that war drum."

Yes. And it makes me sad to see people I admire(d?) to take radical - that is non pacifists - positions.

[Antonella]

On 19th August 1936 the Spanish fascists executed Federico García Lorca. He was 38 years old. I used to cry on this as I was a teenager. Well, not only then in fact...

A friend of mine just remembered him with this poem (found here). I had never read García Lorca in English, and I'm as unhappy with it as I am with Italian poetry in English (no offense meant ;-)).

Si Mis Manos Pudieran Deshojar

Yo pronuncio tu nombre
En las noches oscuras
Cuando vienen los astros
A beber en la luna
Y duermen los ramajes
De las frondas ocultas.
Y yo me siento hueco
De pasión y de música.
Loco reloj que canta
Muertas horas antiguas.

Yo pronuncio tu nombre,
En esta noche oscura,
Y tu nombre me suena
Más lejano que nunca.
Más lejano que todas las estrellas
Y más doliente que la mansa lluvia.

¿Te querré como entonces
Alguna vez? ¿Qué culpa
Tiene mi corazón?
Si la niebla se esfuma
¿Qué otra pasión me espera?
¿Será tranquila y pura?
¡¡Si mis dedos pudieran
Deshojar a la luna!!

-------------

If My Hands Could Defoliate

I pronounce your name
on dark nights,
when the stars come
to drink on the moon
and sleep in tufts
of hidden fronds.
And I feel myself hollow
of passion and music.
Crazy clock that sings
dead ancient hours.

I pronounce your name,
in this dark night,
and your name sounds
more distant than ever.
More distant that all stars
and more doleful than a calm rain.

Will I love you like then
ever again? What blame
has my heart?
When the mist dissipates,
what other passion may I expect?
Will it be calm and pure?
If only my fingers could
defoliate the moon!

[Antonella]

Illustrated heartwrenching poetry by Rafah-born author and poet Khaled Juma:
http://smpalestine.com/2014/08/24/ill...

[Josh]

Antonella wrote: "On 19th August 1936 the Spanish fascists executed Federico García Lorca. He was 38 years old. I used to cry on this as I was a teenager. Well, not only then in fact...

A friend of mine just rememb..."

Beautiful.

[Alison]

I thought I'd share a Tom Moore poem (lyric) in honour of my grandfather, whose birthday was a few days ago. Tom Moore was an Irish writer, poet, and lyricist of the early 19th century, of whom my grandfather was a scholar and biographer. Moore was extremely prolific and is probably best known for two things--his biography of Byron (who was a good friend) and his work collecting and writing lyrics to traditional Irish melodies. He wanted to be for Ireland what Robert Burns was to Scotland (and he succeeded somewhat). I grew up listening to my dad sing Tom Moore songs, so I thought I'd share my favourite, which is one of his most popular ones. I have such fond memories of this song.

Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms
By Thomas Moore (1808)

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,
Were to change by to-morrow and fleet in my arms,
Like fairy gifts fading away,
Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,
Let thy loveliness fade as it will;
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself verdantly still.
It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,
And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear,
That the fervor and faith of a soul can be known,
To which time will but make thee more dear.
No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close
As the sunflower turns on her God when he sets
The same look which she turned when he rose.


It is a song, after all, so here's a recording. I absolutely love the melody. It's beautiful and simple. I had a really hard time finding a sung version I liked, but this one by Michael McGlynn will do. Funny, no one on the internet sings it quite like my dad did. :)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4p87n...

[Karen]

Alison wrote: "I thought I'd share a Tom Moore poem (lyric) in honour of my grandfather, whose birthday was a few days ago. Tom Moore was an Irish writer, poet, and lyricist of the early 19th century, of whom my ..."

Lovely, Alison. I can imagine that no one does sing it quite like your dad did. I remember my dad singing certain songs that I always hear (in "my mind's ear") in his voice.

[Anne]

Alison wrote: "I thought I'd share a Tom Moore poem (lyric) in honour of my grandfather, whose birthday was a few days ago. Tom Moore was an Irish writer, poet, and lyricist of the early 19th century, of whom my ..."

Beautiful, thank you, dear Alison.

[Josh]

Karen wrote: "Alison wrote: "I thought I'd share a Tom Moore poem (lyric) in honour of my grandfather, whose birthday was a few days ago. Tom Moore was an Irish writer, poet, and lyricist of the early 19th centu..."

My dad sings "I'll Take You Home Again, Kathleen." It's the same sort of thing. But you know, sitting around singing together used to be considered a family entertainment.

Imagine if families still sat around singing instead of watching TV together?

[Anne]

Josh wrote: "Karen wrote: "Alison wrote: "I thought I'd share a Tom Moore poem (lyric) in honour of my grandfather, whose birthday was a few days ago. Tom Moore was an Irish writer, poet, and lyricist of the ea..."

We used to do that when I was young, my dad played the guitar, we all sang. My friends loved coming home to our place and sing with my parents.

My father still sings, although his voice is ruined after cancer treatment 20 years ago. When he started singing to himself again a year after my mother died, we knew he was getting better.

I still know a lot of old songs from those evenings. What lovely memories your poem, Alison and your words, Josh conjured up. Thank you for this gift :)

[Caroline]

I have so much to catch up with on this thread. thanks for the Palestinian poem and for the Lorca Antonella. I'm with you as regards the awkwardness of much translated poetry but it can be the only way of getting to know the work for those of us who are not fluent in other languages.

Thanks for the Tom Moore poem Alison. I'm glad there are still people who sing with their families.

[Johanna]

Alison wrote: "I thought I'd share a Tom Moore poem (lyric) in honour of my grandfather, whose birthday was a few days ago. Tom Moore was an Irish writer, poet, and lyricist of the early 19th century, of whom my ..."

Thank you for the poem and the link to the song, dear Alison. So beautiful, both of them.

And also, thank you for waking up some almost forgotten memories from my childhood. I had a few strong flash-backs of my grandfather playing harmonica when I was very little. And I think I've told this before, but when I was small I never ever fell asleep when someone (my mom, dad or my godmother) read to me. All three of them could take turns reading aloud and when they were all already exhausted I was still wide awake. :-) BUT, when my mother sang to me, that made me sleep quite quickly.

[Johanna]

I got an absolute treasure in my mailbox today — Ghosts and Other Poems (1998) by Joseph Hansen. And I tell you, these poems are squeezing my heart pretty badly. When I got the book out of the parcel and opened it randomly, this was the first poem I read. I thought I'd share it with you.

SILENCES by Joseph Hansen

A good silence is like cold
Fresh air to breath when you feel
sick and sweaty from too much
food and wine, the clean salt breath
off the dark ocean when you
stand alone on a night pier,
the noise behind you, and
the lights--and breathe in deeply.

The silences of country
nights are good, the silences
of woods and streams asleep, of
the hills sleeping, of cattle
lying, legs folded under,
drowsing darkly on the slopes,
of horses, standing asleep.

The silences of early
morning cities, after the
last drunk has staggered home, and
before the delivery
trucks begin to rattle, no
one awake but you in the
world--these silences are good,

but I resent the silence
when I joke, when I weep, when
I try to tell my story,
and no one listens, when they
turn away and wander off,
deaf and dumb, stumbling across
my grave, but never falling.

[Anne]

Johanna wrote: "I got an absolute treasure in my mailbox today — Ghosts and Other Poems (1998) by Joseph Hansen. And I tell you, these poems are squeezing my heart pretty badly. When I got the book out of the parc..."

Wow!

Very poignant and deeply recognisable. Thank you for posting this, dear Johanna.

[KC]

Anne wrote: "Very poignant and deeply recognisable."

Yes, exactly that. Sneaks up on you, doesn't it...
Thank you, Johanna!

[Sabine]

It is like looking in a mirror. Good silence and the sad silence, when you can feel you are alone.

[Alison]

Johanna wrote: "I got an absolute treasure in my mailbox today — Ghosts and Other Poems (1998) by Joseph Hansen. And I tell you, these poems are squeezing my heart pretty badly. When I got the book out of the parc..."

Thank you, Johanna. Yes, it is poignant.

[Johanna]

I hope I won't make you guys too depressed if I'll post another one of Joseph Hansen's poems (Ghosts and Other Poems, 1998) here. I'm totally fascinated by the unflinching frankness and melancholy touch of these poems.

And I find it intriguing that the same themes that can be found in Hansen's novels can also be found in his poems — although, I don't know why it surprises me. It's actually very logical that an artist ponders over similar kind of themes throughout his/her life and career — no matter if the art form changes a bit.


THE REASON by Joseph Hansen

Child, if I tell you I love you,
I know what you'll do:
sell your stereo and buy a ticket.

I'll go to the bus depot
and bring you coffee in a paper cup
at four in the morning.

I'll light your cigarette
and try to kiss you goodbye
and you'll spill coffee in your lap.

I'll go for paper napkins,
and when I get back, you'll be
in the washroom and won't come out.

I'll take a plane to Denver and wait,
and when your bus arrives, you won't
get off, won't even open the window.

I'll fly on to Tulsa,
and your parents will tell you
about the flowers: a bald man left them.

I'll stay for a week in a motel room
with a broken TV, and phone you every day,
just to hear you hang up.

All this will be tiring and cost too much
and make me sad, which is the reason
I'm not going to tell you I love you.

[Johanna]

Maybe a couple more? :-) I LOVE how Joseph Hansen tells such penetrating, powerful, rich, vivid stories with minimum amount of well chosen words. I absolutely love it. And this is something I adore about Josh's writing, too.

And I love how both Hansen and Josh won't let me go after I've finished reading their stories. They make me ponder and look at life a little differently than I did before I started reading their story.


LIFELONG FRIENDSHIP by Joseph Hansen

She was on the corner turning to ice
You forgot the date

She was in a cafe turning to coffee
You couldn't find your keys

She was in the park turning to leaves
You would have gone but it was raining

She was on the library steps turning to stone
You fell asleep in front of the television

She was in court without bail money
You thought the hearing was Thursday

She was dying in a hospital
You had to wait for the plumber

She was in a mortuary turning to ashes
Of course, you rushed right there.

[Johanna]

This will be the last one I'll post, I promise (Ghosts and Other Poems, 1998).


ADVENTURE STORY by Joseph Hansen

Open a book, and something
is going to happen: a man in
leggings, muzzle-loader slung
on his back, walks among trees
where there are hostiles,
a woman in homespun opens
a woodbox--there's a snake in it.

Turn on the TV, and something
is going to happen, rain begins,
the river swells and darkens
like a bruise, and the children
went off in the skiff, early,
when there weren't even clouds;
a grandmother turns her face to the wall,
mutters she won't cook down
the plums this year, first time
anyone can remember--and you know
something is going to happen.

Sit in the dark of a movie house,
dried chewing gum under the seat,
the film on your face like colored rain,
and a brass plate reads HOSPITAL,
and the camera whisks you through
glass doorways, along corridors
of doors, stopping at one--
where something is going to happen.

But wake any morning, look at
your room, books, rug, dust on
the typewriter, the turntable,
cobwebs caught in window-corners,
empty coffee mug on the sill,
and know--nothing
is going to happen.

[Varecia]

Those are wonderful poems, Johanna. I would not be averse if you posted some more :-)
And so true what you said about some stories/authors not letting you go after you finished, as I am deep into the Rios books now I experience pretty much the same.

[Sabine]

I am sitting in a train, have to struggle with tears!

[Anne]

Thank you for these, Johanna. They ache with loneliness, especially the last one. Sad, but so lovely too.

[Antonella]

Johanna, thank you so much for taking the time to put here the poems! Nobody will complain if you post some more ;-).

In general about the poems here: I don't comment for every one, but I do enjoy all of them.

[KC]

Thank you, Johanna, for posting the poems! They're so beautiful and sad and startling. With every little thing i read, i love Hansen all the more.

[Johanna]

You are very welcome, ladies. I'm so glad I can share them here and that you find them as touching as I do. It means a lot to me. *blinking desperately*

[Josh]

Johanna wrote: "I got an absolute treasure in my mailbox today — Ghosts and Other Poems (1998) by Joseph Hansen. And I tell you, these poems are squeezing my heart pretty badly. When I got the book out of the parc..."

That's wonderful. I have not read Hansens' poetry. There. I have now confessed.

[Josh]

Johanna wrote: "Maybe a couple more? :-) I LOVE how Joseph Hansen tells such penetrating, powerful, rich, vivid stories with minimum amount of well chosen words. I absolutely love it. And this is something I adore..."

Isn't that the truth?

[Josh]

Johanna wrote: "You are very welcome, ladies. I'm so glad I can share them here and that you find them as touching as I do. It means a lot to me. *blinking desperately*"

These are all so wonderful. I'm not sure why I thought they would not be, I feared they would disappoint. How odd. They're every bit as striking and moving as his prose.

[Johanna]

Josh wrote: "These are all so wonderful. I'm not sure why I thought they would not be, I feared they would disappoint. How odd. They're every bit as striking and moving as his prose."

I know! That's how I felt beforehand. Like... I was afraid I wouldn't recognize him in his poems. I should have had more faith.

[Antonella]

Three poems on Gaza by Zeina Hashem Beck, a Lebanese poet whose poetry collection ''To Live in Autumn'' (Backwaters Press, 2014), won the 2013 Backwaters Prize:

http://electronicintifada.net/content...

[Antonella]

Until We Could by Richard Blanco
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Po9L68...

A gorgeous new video poem written by Richard Blanco, celebrates love and the freedom to marry for same-sex couples. The film is narrated by Golden Globe winning actress Robin Wright and actor Ben Foster.

I quote here only the end of it:

I do, I do and will and will for those who still can’t
vow it yet, but know love’s exact reason as much
as they know how a sail keeps the wind without
breaking, or how roots dig a way into the earth,
or how the stars open their eyes to the night, or
how a vine becomes one with the wall it loves, or
how, when I hold you, you are rain in my hands.

but here, at the end of the article, you can read all the poem:
http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles...

[Caroline]

Antonella wrote: "Until We Could by Richard Blanco
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Po9L68...

A gorgeous new video poem written by Richard Blanco, celebrates love and the freedom to marry for same-sex couples...."

Gorgeous indeed but it also made me cry.

[Antonella]

Caroline wrote: "Gorgeous indeed but it also made me cry."

I hope it makes especially the people opposing equality cry.

[Johanna]

Antonella wrote: "Until We Could by Richard Blanco
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Po9L68...

A gorgeous new video poem written by Richard Blanco, celebrates love and the freedom to marry for same-sex couples...."

Very emotional. Thank you for sharing, Antonella.

[Josh]

Antonella wrote: "Until We Could by Richard Blanco
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Po9L68...

A gorgeous new video poem written by Richard Blanco, celebrates love and the freedom to marry for same-sex couples...."

Lovely.

[Antonella]

Does spoken word poetry belong here? This is from a site called ''button poetry'' to promote performance poetry.

Anyway here are 2 minutes and 50 seconds by G. Yamazawa about an episode in his childhood:
http://www.upworthy.com/a-little-girl...

Thanks to Aleksandr Voinov for pointing this out on his FB page.

[Antonella]

I've read an article about how difficult it is to translate the poetry of this angry young man of Palestinian origins writing in Danish, Yahya Hassan. He writes poetry in all caps.

“Outside the Door”:

I SAT IN THE WARDROBE WITH A CHRISTMAS DONUT IN HAND
AND LEARNED TO TIE MY SHOELACES IN SILENCE
DECORATED ORANGES WITH DIANTHUS SPICE AND RED BANDS
HANG FROM THE CEILING LIKE PERFORATED VOODOO DOLLS
THAT’S HOW I REMEMBER KINDERGARTEN
THE OTHERS WERE LOOKING FORWARD TO SANTA CLAUS
BUT I WAS JUST AS SCARED OF HIM
AS I WAS OF MY FATHER

See also this interview/reading with English subtitles:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1HE6Zs...

About him:

http://lareviewofbooks.org/essay/rage...#

http://www.theguardian.com/books/2013...

[Johanna]

Antonella wrote: "I've read an article about how difficult it is to translate the poetry of this angry young man of Palestinian origins writing in Danish, Yahya Hassan. He writes poetry in all caps.

“Outside the D..."

You always post poems I have never heard of, Antonella. Thank you.