Posts Tagged ‘ poem ’

Verse 1 read by Virginia Mae Schmitt | Whitman, Alabama

Walt Whitman’s ‘Song of Myself’ as brought to life through the voices and lives of Alabamians. Watch verse 1 read by Virginia Mae Schmitt.

Source: Verse 1 read by Virginia Mae Schmitt | Whitman, Alabama

for Chris Mansel, from Alabama ~ df

First Known When Lost: Beauty

First Known When Lost

I never had noticed it until
‘Twas gone, — the narrow copse
Where now the woodman lops
The last of the willows with his bill.

It was not more than a hedge overgrown.
One meadow’s breadth away
I passed it day by day.
Now the soil is bare as a bone,

And black betwixt two meadows green,
Though fresh-cut faggot ends
Of hazel make some amends
With a gleam as if flowers they had been.

Strange it could have hidden so near!
And now I see as I look
That the small winding brook,
A tributary’s tributary, rises there.

Edward Thomas, in Edna Longley (editor), Edward Thomas: The Annotated Collected Poems (Bloodaxe Books 2008).

Source: First Known When Lost: Beauty

Kenneth Patchen – “Do Me That Love”

‘Do Me That Love’

Do me that love
As a tree, tree
Where birds and wind
Sing though they know
How real night is
And no one can
Go on for long
In any way
Do me that love

Do me that love
As the rain, rain
That has voices
In it, the greats’
And fools’, poor dead
From old weathers —
Lives considered
And rejected
As ours will be.
The rain comes down
And flowers grow
On the graves of
Our enemies
Do me that love

~ Kenneth Patchen
from Red Wine  and Yellow Hair (1949)

A Longhouse Birdhouse: SOMEBODY BLEW UP AMERICA ~

Source: A Longhouse Birdhouse: SOMEBODY BLEW UP AMERICA ~

IV of Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird | Illustrated Poetry

Okay! It’s week 4 and stanza IV of 13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird by Wallace Stevens (1879-1955).  You can read the whole poem here and see my illustrated stanzas III, and III. Original video (of afternoon sunlight through half-closed venetian blinds) by Emily Grossman, GIF and composition by me. Enjoy!

Source: IV of Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird | Illustrated Poetry

Katherine Morgan | Post Cards at the New York Historical Society – The MOON magazine

Post Cards at the New York Historical Society

I am in the room with these black
and white picture post cards – made
to share the lynching with faraway friends

or keep as a souvenir – sell
to a collector to frame and hang
and I am in the room, my heart

beats in my throat – each photo
depicts a new corpse – burned first,
whipped first, naked, handcuffed.

I want to look away, but to do so seems
strange cowardice, some denial
these noosed men don’t deserve.

My white face reflects in the glass,
complicit witness in the crowd.

– Katherine Morgan

Source: Katherine Morgan | Post Cards at the New York Historical Society – The MOON magazine

Bamboo and Plum Blossom: Hsu Yun (1840-1959)

Hsu Yun (1840-1959)

Passing the Winter at Yunhua but not meeting up with my friend 
I came to this place where the trees are confusingly thick.
Suddenly in the arched vault of the forest I found a path.
I passed that stone… the one below the green pavilion.
There was frost on the leaves and the branch tips were bare and red.
Who was it who carved those emotional words in the rock?
I waited. Ah… All feelings,
Are they not just emptiness of “me”?
The Chan gates both rest quietly now
With the plum trees and the grasses
Awaiting the winds of Spring.

 

Source: Bamboo and Plum Blossom: Hsu Yun (1840-1959)