Read Me a Poem Sing Me a Song Showing 651-700 of 1,581

[Johanna]

Just to celebrate spring. :-)


TODAY by Billy Collins

If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze

that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house

and unlatch the door to the canary's cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,

a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies

seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking

a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,

releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage

so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting

into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.

[Sabine]

Love it. And now I will for ever want to free the residents of paperweights and snow globes!

[Antonella]

Thank you, this is lovely.

Thanks to you now I've read about Billy Collins and his poems.

[Anne]

I want this spring, now!

[Johanna]

Antonella wrote: "Thanks to you now I've read about Billy Collins and his poems."

I'm only getting to know his poetry myself. Here are a couple of biography links and the wikipedia link:

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/b...

http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poet/bi...

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Billy_Co...

[Johanna]

Josh wrote: "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."

Yes. I love the beautiful simplicity and the gentle wisdom of her poems. Quiet optimism and lyrical sensibility as you so well said.

Today I found a treasure on Amazon.com. It seems that Sara Teasdale's Love Songs poetry collection is A Public Domain Book and free to download. This is a poetry collection that was published in 1917. It won the Pulitzer Prize the next year (ETA: or more accurately — it won the prize that became Pulitzer Prize later on... if I've understood correctly).

Here is the link to the free book on Amazon.com:

http://www.amazon.com/Love-Songs-Sara...

I don't know why I still prefer my poetry books the old fashioned way in paper. That's why it hasn't occurred to me before to check out Sara Teasdale's works as ebooks.

[Sabine]

Oh thank you Johanna!
And yes I like them better in print too. But for my time in the tram it's nice to have it as ebook.

[Johanna]

You're welcome, Sabine. :-)

[Johanna]

Also project Gutenberg offers Sara Teasdale's work for free:

http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/autho...

[Karen]

Johanna wrote: "Josh wrote: "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 t..."

Thank you, Johanna. : )

[Johanna]

Karen wrote: "Johanna wrote: "Josh wrote: "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 ..."

You're very welcome, Karen!

[Johanna]

Sorry for posting Joseph Hansen poems all the time — I promise to stop after this one. :-) The poem is from Hansen's poem collection One Foot in the Boat that arrived today. Poems of the book are written between 1965 and 1976 — this poem is one of the older ones and it ends the book. I really like it.


GOOD FRIDAY—BURYING A JAY by Joseph Hansen

Why, in God's name, we put you in the ground
and mourned you, who had flickered scissor wings
like flung ice through the tops of cottonwoods
(green and then windblown silver underneath)
childhood must answer for, and ignorance.

Scrubby and stiff, with feathers scuffed to gray,
and beak gaping, as if to die were parching,
somebody brought you and somebody cried.
We dug a pit and searched a tumbledown,
cobwebby shed and found a shoebox, laid
you in it, wound it round with knotted string
and buried you under red hollyhocks
where bees drowsed—and we smoothed the soil back over.

You were the screaming, scolding scourge of air,
the wine bright sentinel of summer skies,
and we were heavy children, stumbling
along the cracked and hunchy pavings of
the dusty town, and yet we mourned for you.

Christ, bird, you flew—and did this earn you pity?

[Karen]

Johanna wrote: "Sorry for posting Joseph Hansen poems all the time — I promise to stop after this one. :-) The poem is from Hansen's poem collection One Foot in the Boat that arrived today. Poems of the book are w..."

Oh, no need to stop, Johanna. This one breaks my heart, but that's an OK place to be sometimes, those times when recalling how something that shouldn't be so affecting is nonetheless.

[Johanna]

Karen wrote: "This one breaks my heart, but that's an OK place to be sometimes, those times when recalling how something that shouldn't be so affecting is nonetheless."

Well said, my friend.

[Antonella]

I know it is a bit of a overload, but here...
twelve poems you might want to commit to memory
http://hellogiggles.com/poems-know-by...

For sure we already quoted one of them here.

[Johanna]

Antonella wrote: "I know it is a bit of a overload, but here...
twelve poems you might want to commit to memory
http://hellogiggles.com/poems-know-by...

For sure we already quoted one of them here."

Thank you for a lovely moment with wonderful poetry, dear! I didn't know them all.

[Varecia]

Antonella wrote: "I know it is a bit of a overload, but here...
twelve poems you might want to commit to memory
http://hellogiggles.com/poems-know-by...

For sure we already quoted one of them here."

Thank you, Antonella! I know next to nothing about modern American poetry, so this is a perfect opportunity to learn about new to me authors. I especially liked the poem by Carolyn Forche.

[Josh]

Antonella wrote: "I know it is a bit of a overload, but here...
twelve poems you might want to commit to memory
http://hellogiggles.com/poems-know-by...

For sure we already quoted one of them here."

GULP. Do we have to commit all twelve to memory? :-D

[Antonella]

Josh wrote: "GULP. Do we have to commit all twelve to memory? :-D"

I just took a sentence from the person who had chosen the poems.

I honestly never understood people who want other people learning poems by heart. I had to do it in the primary school. I do appreciate listening to poems learned by heart though.

[Josh]

Antonella wrote: "Josh wrote: "GULP. Do we have to commit all twelve to memory? :-D"

I just took a sentence from the person who had chosen the poems.

I honestly never understood people who want other people learn..."

The problem is unless you continue to recite them to yourself (or someone else) they will not stay with you. Same with song lyrics.

[Johanna]

Sometimes photographs capture moments the way that feels like poetry to me. Or what do you think? Here are a few Pinterest boards that look a lot like poetry to me. :-)

Hush

Sweet light

One moment in time

Memorizing

[Johanna]

And here's a joyful spring poem by Sara Teasdale (from her Rivers to the Sea collection).


MAY NIGHT by Sara Teasdale

The spring is fresh and fearless
And every leaf is new,
The world is brimmed with moonlight,
The lilac brimmed with dew.

Here in the moving shadows
I catch my breath and sing—
My heart is fresh and fearless
And over-brimmed with spring.

[Sylvia]

Johanna wrote: "Sometimes photographs capture moments the way that feels like poetry to me. Or what do you think? Here are a few Pinterest boards that look a lot like poetry to me. :-)

Hush

Sweet light

One mome..."

I love your boards :)

[Antonella]

Johanna wrote: "And here's a joyful spring poem by Sara Teasdale (from her Rivers to the Sea collection)."

Beautiful, thank you.

I opened my Kindle lately and started reading the poem which was there then I realised it wasn't a single poem at the beginning of a book but a collection of love poems by Sara Teasdale ;-).

[Johanna]

Sylvia wrote: "Johanna wrote: "Sometimes photographs capture moments the way that feels like poetry to me. Or what do you think? Here are a few Pinterest boards that look a lot like poetry to me. :-)

Hush

Sweet..."

Thank you, dear. And I love yours. :-) Pinning those pictures soothes and relaxes me wonderfully — just like reading poems from my favorite poets before I go to sleep.

[Johanna]

Antonella wrote: "Johanna wrote: "And here's a joyful spring poem by Sara Teasdale (from her Rivers to the Sea collection)."

Beautiful, thank you.

I opened my Kindle lately and started reading the poem which was ..."

You're very welcome, Antonella. And isn't it lovely when your Kindle surprises you like that! :-D

[Johanna]

Here's to new homes (and the old ones!). :-)


MY HOME by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

This is the place that I love the best,
A little brown house, like a ground-bird's nest,
Hid among grasses, and vines, and trees,
Summer retreat of the birds and bees.

The tenderest light that ever was seen
Sifts through the vine-made window screen--
Sifts and quivers, and flits and falls
On home-made carpets and gray-hung walls.

All through June the west wind free
The breath of clover brings to me.
All through the languid July day
I catch the scent of new-mown hay.

The morning-glories and scarlet vine
Over the doorway twist and twine;
And every day, when the house is still,
The humming-bird comes to the window-sill.

In the cunningest chamber under the sun
I sink to sleep when the day is done;
And am waked at morn, in my snow-white bed,
By a singing bird on the roof o'erhead.

Better than treasures brought from Rome,
Are the living pictures I see at home--
My aged father, with frosted hair,
And mother's face, like a painting rare.

Far from the city's dust and heat,
I get but sounds and odors sweet.
Who can wonder I love to stay,
Week after week, here hidden away,
In this sly nook that I love the best--
This little brown house like a ground-bird's nest?

[Susinok]

I had to memorize Annabelle Lee by Edgar Allen Poe. I stuck it out for six stanzas and refused to do the final two. I'd had enough by then.

[Johanna]

Susinok wrote: "I had to memorize Annabelle Lee by Edgar Allen Poe. I stuck it out for six stanzas and refused to do the final two. I'd had enough by then."

LOL. My dad recited Edgar Alan Poe's The Raven to us when we were celebrating May Day together. I think it's amazing that he memorizes it — even when being slightly drunk. ;-) I know I couldn't do it.

[Antonella]

Johanna wrote: ''LOL. My dad recited Edgar Alan Poe's T..."

I still have a fond memory of him reciting a very long Finnish poem for us last summer. Event tough I didn't understand a word I was very moved.

[Johanna]

Antonella wrote: "Johanna wrote: ''LOL. My dad recited Edgar Alan Poe's T..."

I still have a fond memory of him reciting a very long Finnish poem for us last summer. Event tough I didn't understand a word I was ve..."

He never misses a chance to recite poems to new "victims". Not even when the poor victims don't speak Finnish. :-)

I remember you being moved by that poem. And even though you didn't understand Finnish you clearly understood the language of poetry, because I remember us talking about the poem afterwards and how you even by and large felt what the poem was about. I think it was pretty amazing. I think poetry is pretty amazing. :-)

[Johanna]

Just found this. I love it!


LOVE IS A PLACE by E. E. Cummings

love is a place
& through this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places

yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
(skilfully curled)
all worlds

[Antonella]

Johanna wrote: "Just found this. I love it!


LOVE IS A PLACE by E. E. Cummings"

Great, thank you!

[Alison]

Johanna wrote: "Sometimes photographs capture moments the way that feels like poetry to me. Or what do you think? Here are a few Pinterest boards that look a lot like poetry to me. :-)

Hush

Sweet light

One mome..."

I do love your Pinterest boards, Johanna. You are so specific in what you choose and it works so well. Thanks for sharing. :)

[Alison]

Johanna wrote: "Just found this. I love it!


LOVE IS A PLACE by E. E. Cummings

love is a place
& through this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places

yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
..."

I love this, too! So good. And the other two you posted, as well. Thank you. :)

[Alison]

I loved this poem the first time I read it so very long ago. I came across it the other day and it made me smile and remember.


This Is Just To Say
by William Carlos Williams

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

[Johanna]

I, too, love This Is Just To Say, Alison. And yes, it always makes me smile too. :-)

[Antonella]

A topic crossover ;-): Read Me A Poem + What We're Watching

5 Beautiful Love Poems Recited in Movies

[Johanna]

Antonella wrote: "A topic crossover ;-): Read Me A Poem + What We're Watching

5 Beautiful Love Poems Recited in Movies"

I actually heard W.H. Auden's “Funeral Blues” the very first time when I watched Four Weddings and a Funeral. It was like a hit on the head. I instantly fell in love with the poem and I still think it's one of the most beautiful and powerful love poems I've ever heard. And saddest.

Amongst many other things it perfectly describes how it feels like your world has stopped, ended, even, when something as bad as death of a loved one happens. Still, life around you goes on as nothing has happened and it feels unbelievable. Because you truly would expect that everyone would have noticed that nothing now can ever come to any good anymore.

[Alison]

Antonella wrote: "A topic crossover ;-): Read Me A Poem + What We're Watching

5 Beautiful Love Poems Recited in Movies"

Neat. I love Il Postino, haven't seen it in so many years. The soundtrack is lovely with lots of poetry. Bright Star is also a lovely film, and also has a lovely soundtrack filled with poetry.

[Antonella]

Amanda Palmer reads the Wislawa Szymborska's poem: “Possibilities,” translated from Polish by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh.

Wislawa Szymborska got the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1996.

Possibilities

I prefer movies.

I prefer cats.

I prefer the oaks along the Warta.

I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky.

I prefer myself liking people

to myself loving mankind.

I prefer keeping a needle and thread on hand, just in case.

I prefer the color green.

I prefer not to maintain

that reason is to blame for everything.

I prefer exceptions.

I prefer to leave early.

I prefer talking to doctors about something else.

I prefer the old fine-lined illustrations.

I prefer the absurdity of writing poems

to the absurdity of not writing poems.

I prefer, where love’s concerned, nonspecific anniversaries

that can be celebrated every day.

I prefer moralists

who promise me nothing.

I prefer cunning kindness to the over-trustful kind.

I prefer the earth in civvies.

I prefer conquered to conquering countries.

I prefer having some reservations.

I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of order.

I prefer Grimms’ fairy tales to the newspapers’ front pages.

I prefer leaves without flowers to flowers without leaves.

I prefer dogs with uncropped tails.

I prefer light eyes, since mine are dark.

I prefer desk drawers.

I prefer many things that I haven’t mentioned here

to many things I’ve also left unsaid.

I prefer zeroes on the loose

to those lined up behind a cipher.

I prefer the time of insects to the time of stars.

I prefer to knock on wood.

I prefer not to ask how much longer and when.

I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility

that existence has its own reason for being.

[Johanna]

Oh, I like this one a lot, Antonella. Wonderful. Thank you for posting it!

ETA: I, too "prefer Grimms’ fairy tales to the newspapers’ front pages".

[Varecia]

Szymborska wrote beautiful poems. I love the "cunning kindness" here!

[Karen]

Antonella wrote: "Amanda Palmer reads the Wislawa Szymborska's poem: “Possibilities,” translated from Polish by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh.

Wislawa Szymborska got the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1996...."

I feel like this poem is more than a little bit brilliant, a cunning list that describes someone I would like to have known.

[Alison]

I really like this one, Antonella. Thanks for posting. :)

Johanna wrote: "ETA: I, too "prefer Grimms’ fairy tales to the newspapers’ front pages"."

Me, too. I tend to be a bit out of touch with what's going on around the wide world, but I've decided I'm mostly okay with that.

[Anne]

The last two lines are wonderful, it is definitetly my preferences too :)

[Antonella]

http://www.brainpickings.org/2015/07/...

Amanda Palmer reading another poem by Nobel laureate Wislawa Szymborska (July 2, 1923–February 1, 2012). A while ago I posted ''Possibilities'':

LIFE WHILE-YOU-WAIT

Life While-You-Wait.
Performance without rehearsal.
Body without alterations.
Head without premeditation.

I know nothing of the role I play.
I only know it’s mine. I can’t exchange it.

I have to guess on the spot
just what this play’s all about.

Ill-prepared for the privilege of living,
I can barely keep up with the pace that the action demands.
I improvise, although I loathe improvisation.
I trip at every step over my own ignorance.
I can’t conceal my hayseed manners.
My instincts are for happy histrionics.
Stage fright makes excuses for me, which humiliate me more.
Extenuating circumstances strike me as cruel.

Words and impulses you can’t take back,
stars you’ll never get counted,
your character like a raincoat you button on the run —
the pitiful results of all this unexpectedness.

If only I could just rehearse one Wednesday in advance,
or repeat a single Thursday that has passed!
But here comes Friday with a script I haven’t seen.
Is it fair, I ask
(my voice a little hoarse,
since I couldn’t even clear my throat offstage).

You’d be wrong to think that it’s just a slapdash quiz
taken in makeshift accommodations. Oh no.
I’m standing on the set and I see how strong it is.
The props are surprisingly precise.
The machine rotating the stage has been around even longer.
The farthest galaxies have been turned on.
Oh no, there’s no question, this must be the premiere.
And whatever I do
will become forever what I’ve done.




From Map: Collected and Last Poems, translated by Clare Cavanagh and Stanislaw Baranczak.

[Johanna]

Thank you for posting this, Antonella. For some reason I really like the line: "But here comes Friday with a script I haven’t seen."

[Antonella]

Death is before me today:
like the recovery of a sick man,
like going forth into a garden after sickness.

Death is before me today:
like the odor of myrrh,
like sitting under a sail in a good wind.

Death is before me today:
like the course of a stream;
like the return of a man from the war-galley to his house.

Death is before me today:
like the home that a man longs to see,
after years spent as a captive.


An anonymous poem from ancient Egypt, around 2000 b.C.
I'm rereading The Absolute Sandman, Vol. 1, it's quoted there. More about the poem here:
http://www.consolatio.com/2009/06/anc...

[KC]

Alison wrote: "I loved this poem the first time I read it so very long ago. I came across it the other day and it made me smile and remember.


This Is Just To Say
by William Carlos Williams

I have eaten
the pl..."

Perfect! Made me smile :-)