To celebrate National Haiku Day here is a poem made of entirely haiku. It was written by my father and me. Read about it in Green Rune Anthology if you so wish.
Some bridges refuse
to burn but are swept away
by weight of water.
Others succumb to
decay and time. Like people
charred by our anger.
A sturdy friendship
can overcome disaster.
It’s the rust that kills.
Walk by the river
and you ask yourself, wasn’t
there a bridge here once?
Finally, perhaps my favorite recording in awhile, I read a sonnet by a man who may be more well known for his plays than his poetry, William Shakespeare. I personally picked this one out from Shakespeare’s sonnets. I found it to be one of my favorites and you will too! I hope.
Sonnet Twenty Seven by William Shakespeare
Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head,
To work my mind, when body’s work’s expired:
For then my thoughts (from far where I abide)
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see:
Save that my soul’s imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous and her old face new.
Lo, thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.
It is week two of poetry month and I present to you, finally another recording by Micah Bauman. Today, I am reading a poem by dear romantic poet Percy Bysshe Shelly.
An Exhortation by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Chameleons feed on light and air:
Poets’ food is love and fame:
If in this wide world of care
Poets could but find the same
With as little toil as they,
Would they ever change their hue
As the light chameleons do,
Suiting it to every ray
Twenty times a day?
Poets are on this cold earth,
As chameleons might be,
Hidden from their early birth
In a cave beneath the sea;
Where light is, chameleons change:
Where love is not, poets do:
Fame is love disguised: if few
Find either, never think it strange
That poets range.
Yet dare not stain with wealth or power
A poet’s free and heavenly mind:
If bright chameleons should devour
Any food but beams and wind,
They would grow as earthly soon
As their brother lizards are.
Children of a sunnier star,
Spirits from beyond the moon,
Oh, refuse the boon!
Cheers! And happy Poetry Month, 2018.
Last year Micah (my youngest son) and I recorded at least a poem a week during April, each of us one poem by the same poet. This year we decided to each read different poets from various movements and time periods.
Our only real rule is that it has to be a poet we’ve never recorded before. And, friends, if you’ve followed us for any length of time, you already know that we record a lot of poems. It’s one of the best ways we know to really, thoroughly encounter a poet’s work. Better than trying on their clothes or eating off their plates, both of which could get you into a lot of trouble, especially if the author is still alive. And anyway, who wants to eat off a dead poet’s plate?
Where was I going with this? I think it was about…
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Today my students are a bit in between things. We are starting CMAS state testing next week and need a recharge after spring break (much like before it!!). Thus, we are beginning to dig into poetry. Many of my students are not inclined to write creatively and have had few connecting examples of how many […]
Below is my first poetry reading of poetry month. Dad and I are going to be posting once a week these recordings by poets we have not read aloud before. Anyway, below is the first recording of mine, a poem by Aphra Behn.
P.S. There is a bird chirping in the background of this recording. He’s just singing along to the song.
Song by Apbra Behn
Oh love! that stronger art than Wine,
Pleasing Delusion, Witchery divine,
Wont to be priz’d above all Wealth,
Disease that has more Joys than Health;
Though we blaspheme thee in our Pain,
And of Tyranny complain,
We are all better’d by thy Reign.
What Reason never can bestow,
We to this useful Passion owe:
Love wakes the dull from sluggish ease,
And learns a Clown the Art to please:
Humbles the Vain, kindles the Cold,
Makes Misers free, and Cowards bold;
And teaches airy Fops to think.
When full brute Appetite is fed,
And choakd the Glutton lies and dead;
Thou new Spirits dost dispense,
And fine’st the gross Delights of Sense.
Virtue’s unconquerable Aid
That against Nature can persuade;
And makes a roving Mind retire
Within the Bounds of just Desire.
Chearer of Age, Youth’s kind Unrest,
And half the Heaven of the blest!