February 29, 2008FRIDAY POEM
Posted by Jim Culleny at 08:44 AM | Permalink |
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Comments
"I had him sit next me at the table, my fire-lock lean'd in the corner."
Whitman (Song of Myself, 10)
Posted by: Bryon | Feb 29, 2008 11:23:47 AM
The Negro Speaks of Rivers
Langston Hughes
Posted by: Carlos | Feb 29, 2008 11:43:46 AM
Excellent poem with which to end the month.
Posted by: Christine | Feb 29, 2008 1:16:59 PM
Brilliant.
Posted by: Abbas Raza | Feb 29, 2008 6:17:04 PM
Beautiful indeed. And for a postscript to the month, and a transition beyond, here's this by Naomi Shihab Nye:
CROSS THAT LINE
Paul Robeson stood
on the northern border of the USA
and sang into Canada
where a vast audience
sat on folding chairs
waiting to hear him.
He sang into Canada.
His voice left the USA
when his body was not allowed
to cross that line.
Remind us again, brave friend!
What countries may we sing into?
What lines should we all be crossing?
What songs travel toward us
from far away
to deepen our days?
Posted by: Zara Houshmand | Mar 1, 2008 2:47:26 PM
Zara - Thanks for a perfect postscript.
Posted by: Jim | Mar 1, 2008 3:00:27 PM
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