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Showing posts from April, 2011

This Poem, A Song

"Bones" by Libby Roderick

I come from a long line of dead people
I come from a tall pile of bones
My people lie sleeping all under the world
Their souls turn to roots, leaves and stones.

My grandpa went by whiskey in an L.A. hotel
His dad died of Ohio coal
And before him, and before that, they slipped under the ground
Fewer bones walk above than below.

My great grandmother's eyes stare out from my face
Her skinny bones dance around in my clothes
You can almost hear the whisper of her sweet southern song
In this voice I've been calling my own.

A toast to the living, walk us walk down the aisle
So these bones can be married to the flesh for awhile.
A song, a song for the living, though the flesh worries when
These bones will be leaving to join family again.

I come from a long line of dead people
I come from a tall pile of bones
My people lie sleeping all under the world
Their souls turn to roots, leaves and stones.

What Do You Make of This One?

This is my letter to the world,
That never wrote to me,
The simple news that Nature told,
With tender majesty.

Her message is committed
To hands I cannot see;
For love of her, sweet countrymen,
Judge tenderly of me!
------Emily Dickinson

Gotta Love Dorothy...

April is National Poetry Month
...a fabulous excuse to discover new verse and re-read the ones you know.

I love Dorothy Parker, and of course, this is one of her best known:
ResumeRazors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp;
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

Dorothy Parker

Pretty Much Where I'm At...

April is National Poetry Month. In celebration, read this, one of my favorite four lines....

Some keep the Sabbath going to Church
I keep it, staying at Home
With a Bobolink for a Chorister
And an Orchard, for a Dome
--- Emily Dickinson

She Walks In Beauty - Lord Byron

APRIL is national poetry month -
Thank you to Sean Schexnayder for suggesting this gorgeous verse by Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, like the nightOf cloudless climes and starry skies,And all that's best of dark and brightMeets in her aspect and her eyes;Thus mellow'd to that tender light 5Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,Had half impair'd the nameless graceWhich waves in every raven tressOr softly lightens o'er her face, 10Where thoughts serenely sweet expressHow pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek and o'er that browSo soft, so calm, yet eloquent,The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 15But tell of days in goodness spent,—A mind at peace with all below,A heart whose love is innocent.

Daffodils by William Wordsworth

April is National Poetry Month

Daffodils by William Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee; A poet could not be but gay, In such a jocund company! I gazed—and gazed—but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.
Please leave your favorite in the comments so we all can discover more.

Desert Places By Robert Frost

April is National Poetry Month.
I'll post poems throughout. Would love to discover some new ones, so please leave your favorites in the comments.Thanks go to friend Megan Neal for reminding me about Desert Places -- she said this was one of her favorite poems.
Desert Places By Robert Frost
Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fastIn a field I looked into going past,And the ground almost covered smooth in snow,But a few weeds and stubble showing last.
The woods around it have it--it is theirs. All animals are smothered in their lairs. I am too absent-spirited to count; The loneliness includes me unawares.
And lonely as it is that loneliness Will be more lonely ere it will be less-- A blanker whiteness of benighted snow With no expression, nothing to express.
They cannot scare me with their empty spaces Between stars--on stars where no human race is. I have it in me so much nearer home To scare myself with my own desert places.
What's your favorite poem?