All posts by monkeyprodigy

A Reading of The Unexplorer by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Sorry. It’s just a reblog. But it’s always good to listen to more poetry. Today I celebrate the (belated) birthday of Edna Saint Vincent Millay.

The Monkey Prodigy

Coutinuing the Traveling theme from yesterday, I recorded what would be my last recording of this Poetry Month project.

The Unxplorer
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
There was a road ran past our house
Too lovely to explore.
I asked my mother once—she said
That if you followed where it led
It brought you to the milk-man’s door.
(That’s why I have not traveled more.)

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A Tuesday Tune (Happy Hanukkah by the way)

Hey, it’s your good ole friend the MonkeyPoet here. I’m a little late (at least I finally posted something) but today marks the first day of Hanukkah. So I wanted to share some Hanukkah related songs to you. Here are some of my favorites I grew up with:

The first is Hanukkah oh Hanukkah by the Barenaked Ladies

And of course, Feast of Lights by They Might be Giants

Keeping Things Whole by Mark Strand

Keeping Things Whole
by Mark Strand

In a field
I am the absence
of field.
This is
always the case.
Wherever I am
I am what is missing.

When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in
to fill the spaces
where my body’s been.

We all have reasons
for moving.
I move
to keep things whole.

Reverie In Open Air by Rita Dove

Reverie in Open Air

By Rita Dove

I acknowledge my status as a stranger:
Inappropriate clothes, odd habits
Out of sync with wasp and wren.
I admit I don’t know how
To sit still or move without purpose.
I prefer books to moonlight, statuary to trees.

But this lawn has been leveled for looking,
So I kick off my sandals and walk its cool green.
Who claims we’re mere muscle and fluids?
My feet are the primitives here.
As for the rest—ah, the air now
Is a tonic of absence, bearing nothing
But news of a breeze.

This Living Hand Now Warm and Capable by John Keats

The above recording was recorded to celebrate Halloween this year. It is the anniversary of John Keats birth. A man that only lived to 25. Think of all the other poems he could have written. Anyway, as to not make you more sad, I will not comment any further on that detail. The poem’s words are below. Also, there are plenty of other poems I could have read for Halloween. Click here to check out a collection of “Halloween Poems” put together by the poetry foundation. There are also other John Keats poems that could put you in a spooky mood such as this one, Tis the Witching Time of Night.

“This living hand, now warm and capable”

BY JOHN KEATS

This living hand, now warm and capable

Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold

And in the icy silence of the tomb,

So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights

That thou would wish thine own heart dry of blood

So in my veins red life might stream again,

And thou be conscience-calm’d–see here it is–

I hold it towards you.

A Barred Owl by Richard Wilbur

I did this recording not too long ago. Recently I’ve been enjoying his poetry. So may Richard Wilbur rest in peace.

The Monkey Prodigy

Please take a moment to relax, close your eyes, and listen to a reading of a fine poem. Okay, you don’t have to close your eyes.

A Barred Owl

By Richard Wilbur

The warping night air having brought the boom
Of an owl’s voice into her darkened room,
We tell the wakened child that all she heard
Was an odd question from a forest bird,
Asking of us, if rightly listened to,
“Who cooks for you?” and then “Who cooks for you?”

Words, which can make our terrors bravely clear,
Can also thus domesticate a fear,
And send a small child back to sleep at night
Not listening for the sound of stealthy flight
Or dreaming of some small thing in a claw
Borne up to some dark branch and eaten raw.

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