A student recommended the performance-poetry of Suheir Hammad. It's very good.
Here is a link to a video from Youtube:
Hammad
Monday, January 24, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Down to the Crossroads
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Down to the Crossroads
Probably Robert Johnson just went away
and practiced blues guitar. The story
about the crossroads and the Devil
is a good one, though. Hell
yes, let the Devil take the credit.
Let glamor glow in its seductive
light as you know playing better
came from playing a lot. Meanwhile,
when you're not playing, not telling
the tale, keep practicing and moving
and hope no one gets all poisonous
with envy. You know how they do:
If someone else does good, then
it has to be bad for them. People
need stories that are about more
than the hard work they do.
People need to hear the blues, too.
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
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Down to the Crossroads
Probably Robert Johnson just went away
and practiced blues guitar. The story
about the crossroads and the Devil
is a good one, though. Hell
yes, let the Devil take the credit.
Let glamor glow in its seductive
light as you know playing better
came from playing a lot. Meanwhile,
when you're not playing, not telling
the tale, keep practicing and moving
and hope no one gets all poisonous
with envy. You know how they do:
If someone else does good, then
it has to be bad for them. People
need stories that are about more
than the hard work they do.
People need to hear the blues, too.
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
Yoga Poem #8
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Yoga Poem #8
Ill, I've had to be away from yoga.
It's like it's something over there now:
miles away. Hey, yoga! Ironically,
yoga's here. It's my body. Nothing
mystical about that, just fact. Yoga
is one's body doing yoga.
So when I yearn for yoga,
I'm really yearning for my body,
which is here, which is odd.
I'm yearning for my body to
behave in a certain way. After
I get well, I'm going to take my body,
which is yoga, to yoga.
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
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Yoga Poem #8
Ill, I've had to be away from yoga.
It's like it's something over there now:
miles away. Hey, yoga! Ironically,
yoga's here. It's my body. Nothing
mystical about that, just fact. Yoga
is one's body doing yoga.
So when I yearn for yoga,
I'm really yearning for my body,
which is here, which is odd.
I'm yearning for my body to
behave in a certain way. After
I get well, I'm going to take my body,
which is yoga, to yoga.
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
Jim Holt on Memorizing Poetry
I just ran across a piece by Jim Holt (from April 2009) in the NY TIMES about memorizing poetry:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/05/books/review/Holt-t.html
It is indeed nice to have at least a few poems up there in the noggin. (Now I have to investigate the etymology of noggin.) If you're stuck in line or in a waiting-room, for instance, it's nice to withdraw to the pantry and take a poem off the shelf.
Aside from childrens' rhymes, "Stopping By Woods . . ." (by Frost, of course) was the first poem I memorized. We were asked to memorize it in the third grade, back when Frost was something of THE national poet. It's actually a bit of a tricky poem because of that wonderful interlocking rhyme-scheme, although I didn't notice that til later. I think I liked the poem in part because there we were at 4,000 feet in the Sierra Nevada. Images about snow, the woods, and the dark--and even horses--were familiar to us. Frost's choice simply to repeat a line at the end is one of those simple but perfect moves that helps make a good poem great. It "seals" the poem, it reinforces a sense of weary duty, and it just sounds great, like a blues refrain.
Anyway, thanks to Mr. Holt for the essay.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/05/books/review/Holt-t.html
It is indeed nice to have at least a few poems up there in the noggin. (Now I have to investigate the etymology of noggin.) If you're stuck in line or in a waiting-room, for instance, it's nice to withdraw to the pantry and take a poem off the shelf.
Aside from childrens' rhymes, "Stopping By Woods . . ." (by Frost, of course) was the first poem I memorized. We were asked to memorize it in the third grade, back when Frost was something of THE national poet. It's actually a bit of a tricky poem because of that wonderful interlocking rhyme-scheme, although I didn't notice that til later. I think I liked the poem in part because there we were at 4,000 feet in the Sierra Nevada. Images about snow, the woods, and the dark--and even horses--were familiar to us. Frost's choice simply to repeat a line at the end is one of those simple but perfect moves that helps make a good poem great. It "seals" the poem, it reinforces a sense of weary duty, and it just sounds great, like a blues refrain.
Anyway, thanks to Mr. Holt for the essay.
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