I really enjoy poetry even though a lot of times I don’t always appreciate or understand what I’m reading. Last year Matt from boy culture blog referenced this tumblr site which includes the work from the handsome guy shown above. Apologies, but I don’t know his name. However, a few months ago I started following him and placed his website on my blogroll in the right margin. –>
ORIGINAL CONTENT REQUIRED
Note that both his poetry and many of the images he has on his tumblr site are not safe for work so be careful who you share this with and where you are if you choose to visit his site. Below is a work in progress that he shared earlier this week which I really like. I’m curious to read the finished work.
Source: Decodollop blog
Each October I post this poem on my blog. It is one of my favorite poems of all time and is by the famous 20th century New England poet, Robert Frost, and is entitled, Nothing gold can stay.
It is obvious that Frost was inspired by the fall foliage in New England when he wrote this poem back in 1923.
Nature’s first green is gold
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
Following yesterday’s somber reflections, I thought I’d share And Still I Rise from Maya Angelou. While I understand the poem has nothing to do with the tragedy of September 11th I find it inspiring and full of hope.
I love poetry and The Closet Professor is a southern blogger who now resides in Vermont who regularly shares poems like the one below.
I had never heard of A.E. Housman but according to his Wikipedia page, he was a celebrated poet (and much to my surprise) apparently fell in love with a long time friend / roommate but unfortunately the feelings were never reciprocated as Moses Jackson was heterosexual. Makes you wonder if Housman had Jackson in mind when he wrote this brief but beautiful poem.
He would not stay for me, and who can wonder
A. E. Housman, 1859 – 1936
He would not stay for me, and who can wonder?
He would not stay for me to stand and gaze.
I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder,
And went with half my life about my ways.
If you like what you read, check out The Closet Professor blog, but beware it is not safe to read while at work.
Donovan Livingston, a master’s candidate at Harvard University, was selected to speak at the school’s convocation this past Wednesday. After he performed his poem titled “Lift Off,” Donovan Livingston’s speech went viral. It is one of the most inspiring poems I’ve ever heard and wanted to share with you.
“Our stories are the ladders that make it easier to touch the stars…The sky is not the limit it is only the beginning.”
I thought it appropriate to share a poem by Frost, that pays tribute to this season so I’m re-posting, Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening.
The photo is of me and that is my parent’s house at Lake Winnipesaukee in the background. Sergio snapped the photograph when we were returning home after a long walk. You’ll note the streets hadn’t even been plowed and it felt like we were the only ones around. The photo remains one of my favorites.
STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Poetry is my favorite form of prose and when done right, it speaks to me on an emotional level that I’ve yet to experience in any other form. Music is a close second to poetry and they share a lot of similarities in that much of it I do not care for or understand, but when I find a song or poem I like – it resonates.
Last year I posted Steven Boyle’s poem, I Hit Send or Modern Meltdown. Not knowing what to expect, his poem took me completely by surprise. Boyle’s reading below is a sequel of sorts to this poem. The reading of, Message Sent, or I’m Nervous, was recorded about one year ago at his high school, which has significance, considering the content and message shared. If you’ve not heard his poem, I Hit Send or Modern Meltdown, listen to that first.