Posts Tagged: Poetry
Old poetry brought to life
Excellent post to cap off National Poetry Month, right? This is a clip of Natalie Merchant singing a selection of songs from her latest album; all the songs in this album are adapted from old poems.
What I Used To Write
Talk about a blast from the past. A few months ago my folks found a few binders full of notes and writings from long ago, and asked me to take a look at it before throwing it out. What a find!
Foggy
I took the day off sick. No, I really wasn’t feeling well, this wasn’t so I could watch the US Inauguration live—though that was a nice bonus. And I’d like to say that, as Barack Hussein Obama took his oath of office, that the damn fog that’s been hanging around downtown Vancouver for the last, oh, ten days at least, miraculously parted, letting the daystar shine down on my light-hungry eyes.
Things I Didn’t Know I Loved
Found via GrrlScientist, here’s a poem I’d never heard of, by one Nazim Hikmet, a Turkish author I’d never heard of either. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever read.
Ode To A Juvenile Bald Eagle I Saw Perched By The SeaBus Terminal Friday Morning
O little Bald Eagle
(Well, not that little, you might have been three feet long)
I saw you from the escalator as I exited the train
Just sitting there, huddled against the rain
Quietly looking around
At everything and nothing
La Conscience
I’m in a French mood this time. Must be from reading Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables. So let’s cap off this month with one of Hugo’s most stunning and grandiose poems: La Conscience. Because some days, there’s just no substitute for a Biblical epic recounted in florid Romantic language. This is the story of Cain’s flight after killing Abel: he tries to run from his guilt (represented as a celestial Eye that only he can see), then tries to hide, to no avail.
Wings Of A Wild Goose
Chrystos is a Native American lesbian poet. I went to one of her readings shortly after I moved to Vancouver. I’d never heard of her before, and was deeply moved by her work. It speaks of the harsh realities of life, poverty and racism and sexism and love and activism and spirituality, and how all these things interact.
The Old Astronomer To His Pupil
I just remembered it’s National Poetry Month. Last year I posted an old poem of mine, but this year I thought I’d showcase the works of real poets. Now, I read very little poetry, but there are few poems that have made a strong impression on me.
The first is The Old Astronomer To His Pupil, written by 19th century poet Sarah Williams.
Wearing My Names
To conclude National Poetry Month, I thought I’d post the first and only poem of mine that ever got published. It appeared in the Fall 1994/Winter 1995 edition of The Radical Chameleon, OPIRG-Ottawa’s newsletter. I wrote a number of other poems over the next few years which I never tried to publish anywhere except this Web site—and then took offline for the current version because, well, I don’t think they’re all that good anymore. Except this one.
