Joe Learns Poetry!

Episode 3: The Tyger

PoetryJoe@gmail.com (Poetry Joe) — Thu, 22 Feb 2007 01:27:00 +0000

The Tyger

by William Blake

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Podcast

Episode 2: To An Athlete Dying Young

PoetryJoe@gmail.com (Poetry Joe) — Tue, 20 Feb 2007 17:12:00 +0000

To An Athlete Dying Young

by A.E. Housman

The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.

To-day, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.

Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields were glory does not stay
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.

Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has stopped the ears:

Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.

So set, before its echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup.

And round that early-laurelled head
Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,
And find unwithered on its curls
The garland briefer than a girl's.

Podcast

Episode 1: The Road Not Taken

PoetryJoe@gmail.com (Poetry Joe) — Thu, 15 Feb 2007 21:53:00 +0000

Hello and welcome to the inaugural podcast of Joe Learns Poetry! I’m Poetry Joe, and though I don’t have any fancy degrees or really any background in poetry at all, I really like a good poem. I’ve found though that I can be pretty thick; those poets are a lot smarter than I am, and it takes me a while to really get what they’re saying to the world. A while back I discovered that hearing a poem makes it come to life, and hearing that poem a bunch of times helps me actually understand it. For a while now I’ve been listening to recordings of myself reading really good poetry, and every time I listen I find some new facet that I had never heard before. Learning is nothing if not a collective effort, so I’ve decided to share with y’all.

The bulk of these podcasts are devoted to the poetry itself, and I won’t burden you with my attempts to dissect them, but I am excited to hear your comments and thoughts, and with your permission I’ll share them with everyone else on special commentary episodes. Also feel free to suggest any of your favorite poems for the next podcast. You can email me at PoetryJoe@gmail.com

All the podcasts and texts of the poems I read are available at my blog, JoeLearnsPoetry.Blogspot.com

And with that, on to today’s poem. As I start down the road of podcasting, let’s take a look at one of Robert Frost’s most famous poems, The Road Not Taken.

The Road Not Taken

by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

You can contact me with any comments, thoughts and suggestions at PoetryJoe@gmail.com,
and until next time, keep it poetic.

Podcast