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This clip is the beginning of Cold Mountain, a portrait of the Tang Dynasty Chiniese poet Han Shan, a. Recorded on location, narrated and poems read by Gary Snyder and Jim Lenfestey. Gary Snyder on Poetry and Ecology. Before your mind like rocks. Placed solid, by hands. In choice of place, set. Before the body of the mind. Solidity of bark, leaf, or wall.
The dead are always looking down on us,. They say, while we are putting on our shoes. Or making a sandwich,. They are looking down through the glass-bottom boats,. Of heaven as they row themselves slowly through eternity. They watch the tops of our heads moving below on earth,. And when we lie down in a field or on a couch,. Drugged perhaps by the hum of a warm afternoon,. They think we are looking back at them,. Which makes them lift their oars. For us to close our eyes.
Amiri Baraka Mashups with African dancers. Baraka talks about writing poetry. Baraka - The Power of Word. A Brief Guide to Jazz Poetry. A closed window looks down. On a dirty courtyard, and Black people. Call across or scream across or walk across. Defying physics in the stream of their will. Our world is full of sound. Tho we suffer, and kill each other. And sometimes fail to walk the air. We have been captured,.
Tonight I Can Write the Saddest Lines. I Like for You to be Still. Puedo escribir los versos mas tristes esta noche. Pablo Neruda biography and poems online. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. And the blue stars shiver in the distance. The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
It was in 1973, in the midst of the feminist and civil rights movements, the Vietnam War, and her own personal distress that Rich wrote Diving into the Wreck, a collection of exploratory and often angry poems, which garnered her the National Book Award in 1974. Rich accepted the award on behalf of all women and shared it with her fellow nominees, Alice Walker and Audre Lorde.
There is only one thing you should do. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write. His gaze, from bars endlessly passing by,. And behind a thousand bars - no world.
Un hermoso poema del poeta universal, César Vallejo. A fragment of reading of Trilce LVII by Clayton Eshleman. El poeta a su amada. Poesia de Cesar Vallejo recitada por Jose Manuel Castanon. César Vallejo - Los dados eternos. La tumba de césar vallejo. Ten Poems by César Vallejo. Black Stone on a White Stone. I shall die in Paris, in a rainstorm,. On a day I already remember. I shall die in Paris- it does not bother me-.
I, Too am America. Langston Hughes biography and poems online. Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,. Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,. I heard a Negro play. Down on Lenox Avenue the other night. By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light. He did a lazy sway. He did a lazy sway. With his ebony hands on each ivory key. I got the Weary Blues.
Wednesday, August 7, 2013. Where are the words? Where are the words to. Describe this feeling, for. That is all I do, I. To feel them would be too. But this one cannot be. But I cannot tell you. I was going to be sitting. What to do next,.
The dead are always looking down on us,. They say, while we are putting on our shoes. Or making a sandwich,. They are looking down through the glass-bottom boats,. Of heaven as they row themselves slowly through eternity. They watch the tops of our heads moving below on earth,. And when we lie down in a field or on a couch,. Drugged perhaps by the hum of a warm afternoon,. They think we are looking back at them,. Which makes them lift their oars. For us to close our eyes.
Amiri Baraka Mashups with African dancers. Baraka talks about writing poetry. Baraka - The Power of Word. A Brief Guide to Jazz Poetry. A closed window looks down. On a dirty courtyard, and Black people. Call across or scream across or walk across. Defying physics in the stream of their will. Our world is full of sound. Tho we suffer, and kill each other. And sometimes fail to walk the air. We have been captured,.