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Tag Archives: poems
Somebody on Crenshaw Hit on a bicycle And they are dead.
The eagle flies, the crows perch. The eagle craps on the crows’ perch.
I’d like to offer an existentialist interpretation of Emily Dickinson’s famously perplexing poem, “My Life had stood–A Loaded Gun–” (poem 754 in her collected works). Here’s the poem: My Life had stood–a Loaded Gun– In Corners–till a Day The Owner … Continue reading
If so, I suppose that would mean that you: did something novel as opposed to habitual; slowed down and noticed things; thought; loved; valued; took some risks; and either identified with Dionysus or channeled with discipline your Dionysian energies into … Continue reading
That’s the thesis of classicist, philosopher, and legal scholar Martha Nussbaum (b. 1947) in her essay, “The Narrative Imagination” (1997). How is it good for you? On Nussbaum’s account, it expands and trains your noticing, theorizing, and moral capacities. Here’s a … Continue reading
Sunrise, seven November, the seventh day. Rest. Gumby, pushing sixty, Enters his yoga studio by the glass door, gliding slowly. Pokey, waiting in Corpse Pose, says, I voted Romney. Big Gum: I did too. At the back window A bat leaves its cave, circles tightly, … Continue reading
When Mitt Romney loses the election today (as he almost certainly will), where in literature, aside from the Bible, might conservatives go to process that loss? James McGirk sees that processing coming most characteristically from Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged (1957). … Continue reading
In the late 1890s, Edwin Markham was visiting San Francisco and found himself awestruck by Millet’s painting of “The Man with the Hoe” (which now resides as part of the permanent collection of the Getty Center in Los Angeles, if … Continue reading
On Friday night, one of my poet friends (Niccelle Davis) took a picture of me reading a poem to an audience at Butler’s Coffee in Palmdale, California, and posted it at her blog. I didn’t look too fat, so I asked her … Continue reading
From In Memoriam (106), by Alfred, Lord Tennyson Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the … Continue reading
Fall Poem: Actor Ralph Richardson Reads John Keats’ “Ode to Autumn” After Reflecting on Old Age and Death
Ralph Richardson died in 1983 at the age of 81, so this clip is from the mid-1970s.
Using the metaphor of a tree, in the following poem I try to boil down the essence of the human predicament (which I take to be suffering, change, and death) and the response of each major religion to it (including the atheist … Continue reading
Charles Hood recently sent me one of his poems, and I asked him if I could put it on my blog. He said yes. A compulsive explorer of details, Charles Hood’s poems tend to be characteristically long (see here and here), … Continue reading
. Sunlight rivers through the shimmering Sycamore tree, pools on the ground, Makes of shadow a living shoreline. I vibrate there. The juggler’s balls are Frightfully high in the rarified air. Eight Sheriff’s deputies in four cars came, but They did … Continue reading
_____ Leaves cling, do not go gently, but go just The same. The signal is yellow; the alive Are always downcast before being cast down. Look! The green team winning all summer Is starting to lose badly, going bald in The stunning … Continue reading
The iPad app for T.S. Eliot’s “The Waste Land” is $13.95, which is a bit pricey as apps go, but what a bargain for poetry lovers! I downloaded it yesterday and started to play with it. The app really represents the … Continue reading
Charles Hood’s photo essay on how places, when we travel, are “supposed” to look (as opposed to how they actually do look) put me in mind of the following Christina Rossetti poem meditating upon the inharmonies of existence. It appears to be addressed to … Continue reading