Tag Archives: poetryday

Weekly Poetry Pick

Posted by Bored Shenanigans on

poetry8

D.H. Lawrence was a novelist, playwright, and poet known for his novels Lady Chatterley’s Lover & The Rainbow.  His work often centered around the themes of nature, vitality, sex, and instinct. His writing style was so controversial that he was often the persecuted by censors. At the time of his death, he was a rumored pornographer who was thought to have wasted his considerable talents.  Highly influential, his work has been honored at a yearly festival in Eastwood.

 

Piano

Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;
Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see
A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings
And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings.

In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song
Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside
And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano our guide.

So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour
With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour
Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past. 

 

The above work is one of the best examples of a writer showing their appreciation for another art form. The tender way he describes the music heard is wonderful. I find this to be some of his strongest work and love how his passion drips into the meter of the words.  If you need more D.H. Lawrence in your life I suggest you enjoy more of it here.

 

poetry2

 

 

 

Cody Jemes is the co-host of the recently revived Bored Shenanigans podcast. Our newest series “Story Time” is available via iTunes and Stitcher. See more of his articles here. Also enjoy his poetry by downloading his latest e-book here. Be sure to follow Bored Shenanigans on Twitter or Facebook. 

bslogo

Advertisements

Weekly Poetry Pick

Posted by Bored Shenanigans on

poetry6

 

Jackson Dean Chase is an award winning author and number one best selling author. Mostly known for his work in the genre of the young adult science fiction and horror. Chase’s signature mixture of fantasy and pulp magazines has led to a fervent following amongst his readers.  This week we present the following work to showcase the poetic stylings of Mr. Chase.

 

Replaced

The world changes

too fast to keep up.

Just when you think

you understand it,

they pull the rug out:

technology,

music, 

fashion,

morality.

All dead, replaced by newer models-

as you have been, as we all must be

until the bombs drop,

the plague hits,

and the last light goes out

forever.

 

The above work is from Chase’s first poetry book Bukowski’s Ghost.  By the author’s own admission he fell in love with poetry because of Charles Bukowski. Much of this book is a tribute to the writing style and influence of Bukowski. Jackson Dean Chase does a great job of channeling a fantastic poet without of ever losing his own voice. The desperation and nihilism expressed within the above poem show how the writer is dealing with the passage of time and his connection with society as a whole.  It transcends being an accolade to Bukowski and forces the reader to take stock of their own place in the world. Truly an excellent piece from an excellent poet. I suggest you see more of the fine work of Mr. Chase here.

 

poetry2

 

Cody Jemes is the co-host of the recently revived Bored Shenanigans podcast. Our newest series “Story Time” is available via iTunes and Stitcher. See more of his articles here. Also enjoy his poetry by downloading his latest e-book here. Be sure to follow Bored Shenanigans on Twitter or Facebook.

 

bslogo

Weekly Poetry Pick

Posted by Bored Shenanigans on

poetry9

 

Jimmy Stewart is not the first name thought of when poetry comes to mind. Known for his distinctive speech pattern and easy going persona. His acting work included such classics as Vertigo, Rear Window,  The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence, and It’s a Wonderful Life.  The beloved actor was known for his philanthropy work and political activism, but far less known was his dabbling in the world of poetry and writing. This week’s selection offers us a rare opportunity to hear the author reading their work.  Go here to see Mr. Stewart reading this selection.

 

Beau

He never came to me when I would call

Unless I had a tennis ball,

Or he felt like it,

But mostly he didn’t come at all.

When he was young

He never learned to heel

Or sit or stay,

He did things his way.

Discipline was not his bag

But when you were with him things sure didn’t drag.

He’d dig up a rosebush just to spite me,

And when I’d grab him, he’d turn and bite me.

He bit lots of folks from day to day,

The delivery boy was his favorite prey.

The gas man wouldn’t read our meter,

He said we owned a real man-eater.

He set the house on fire

But the story’s long to tell.

Suffice it to say that he survived

And the house survived as well.

On the evening walks, and Gloria took him,

He was always first out the door.

The Old One and I brought up the rear

Because our bones were sore.

He would charge up the street with Mom hanging on,

What a beautiful pair they were!

And if it was still light and the tourists were out,

They created a bit of a stir.

But every once in a while, he would stop in his tracks

And with a frown on his face look around.

It was just to make sure that the Old One was there

And would follow him where he was bound.

We are early-to-bedders at our house — I guess I’m the first to retire.

And as I’d leave the room he’d look at me

And get up from his place by the fire.

He knew where the tennis balls were upstairs,

And I’d give him one for a while.

He would push it under the bed with his nose

And I’d fish it out with a smile.

And before very long He’d tire of the ball

And be asleep in his corner In no time at all.

And there were nights when I’d feel him Climb upon our bed

And lie between us,

And I’d pat his head.

And there were nights when I’d feel this stare

And I’d wake up and he’d be sitting there

And I reach out my hand and stroke his hair.

And sometimes I’d feel him sigh and I think I know the reason why.

He would wake up at night

And he would have this fear

Of the dark, of life, of lots of things,

And he’d be glad to have me near.

And now he’s dead.

And there are nights when I think I feel him

Climb upon our bed and lie between us,

And I pat his head.

And there are nights when I think I feel that stare

And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair,

But he’s not there.

Oh, how I wish that wasn’t so,

I’ll always love a dog named Beau.

 

The selected writing is from the book Jimmy Stewart and His Poems.  He reminisces over losing a beloved pet in a way that is both relatable and heartbreaking. Taking the reader on a journey, you get to know the dog and can feel the writer’s affection for the animal. His pacing and meter are excellent and I really enjoy reading the verse of Jimmy Stewart, I highly recommend that you hunt down some more of his work.

poetry

 

Cody Jemes is the co-host of the recently revived Bored Shenanigans podcast. Our newest series “Story Time” is available via iTunes and Stitcher. See more of his articles here. Also enjoy his poetry by downloading his latest e-book here. Be sure to follow Bored Shenanigans on Twitter or Facebook.

 

bslogo

 

Weekly Poetry Pick

Posted by Bored Shenanigans on

poetry8

Thomas Hardy was a celebrated writer. Known primarily for his novelized critique of Victorian society in England. His most acclaimed novels were Tess of the d’Urbervilles and Far from the Madding Crowd.  Hardy was also known for his dynamic poetry. His experimentation with style and his ability to manipulate language and stanzas in an unconventional way is powerful. His themes of loss and disappointment reverberate throughout his poems. His poems relating to the Boer War and World War One are amongst my favorites. I present to you one of my favorites.

 

 

The Man He Killed

“Had he and I but met
By some old ancient inn,
We should have sat us down to wet
Right many a nipperkin!

“But ranged as infantry,
And staring face to face,
I shot at him as he at me,
And killed him in his place.

“I shot him dead because —
Because he was my foe,
Just so: my foe of course he was;
That’s clear enough; although

“He thought he’d ‘list, perhaps,
Off-hand like — just as I —
Was out of work — had sold his traps —
No other reason why.

“Yes; quaint and curious war is!
You shoot a fellow down
You’d treat if met where any bar is,
Or help to half-a-crown.”

Seeing the way the narrator interprets his enemy causes the reader to truly examine the humanity of both men involved. Hardy forces you to see that these are just two men who happen to be from different places. Others have declared them enemies, not the soldiers themselves. It delivers it’s point quickly and concisely without belaboring the point. If you need more of Thomas Hardy’s work you can find some examples here.

poetry2

Cody Jemes is the co-host of the Bored Shenanigans podcast available via iTunes and Stitcher. See more of his articles here. Also enjoy his poetry by downloading his latest e-book here. Be sure to follow Bored Shenanigans on Twitter or Facebook.

bslogo

Weekly Poetry Pick

Posted by Bored Shenanigans on

poetry7

 

On Edgar Allan Poe’s birthday, I felt it appropriate to select some of his work. I believe that Poe’s reputation has preceded him.  He was a master wordsmith who contributed greatly to the genres of science fiction and the detective story. His signature macabre style and vast vocabulary still stand out amongst the throngs of written word. So in celebration of the man, I present to you one of my favorites.

 

 

 

Alone

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were — I have not seen
As others saw — I could not bring
My passions from a common spring —
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow — I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone —
And all I lov’d — I lov’d alone —
Then — in my childhood — in the dawn
Of a most stormy life — was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still —
From the torrent, or the fountain —
From the red cliff of the mountain —
From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold —
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by —
From the thunder, and the storm —
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view —

 

 

 

The above work was never printed during Poe’s lifetime. He signed a fan’s autograph book with it and after a stringent verification process, it was confirmed as his. I love the panache of Poe to sign an autograph with an original poem. Alone does a fantastic job of capturing the feelings we all have when we are by ourselves. It seeps through the words and highlights the small things that he has loved by himself. All that he loves, he loves wholly by himself. It mirrors each of us, as we have those things that we hold dearest but do so by ourselves, alone. For more of Poe’s excellent poetry, I suggest you go here.

 

poetry8

 

 

 

 

 

Cody Jemes is the co-host of the Bored Shenanigans podcast available via iTunes and Stitcher. See more of his articles here. Also enjoy his poetry by downloading his latest e-book here. Be sure to follow Bored Shenanigans on Twitter or Facebook.

bslogo

Weekly Poetry Pick

Posted by Bored Shenanigans on

poetry

Susan Firer is a professor at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee where she teaches women’s studies and creative writing. She has published six books of poetry and has been honored by her home city with the poet laureate.  Utilizing a vivacious and imaginative writing style she builds truly memorable poems.  You can view a  sample of her works here.

 

 

The Transit of Venus

The poppies start as aliens
end as husbands, a pause
of light, a dull scatter.
Transports dandelion clouds.
Venus passes between sun &
earth. Exceedingly rare, Transit,
have you noticed how close
the ode & elegy are?
(In the United States someone
dies every sixteen seconds!)
Husband, Supermoon, Venus
come & go. Death says there
is no you at the end of weather.
“Among the rarest of all predictable
astronomical . . .” Husband
presented me. The weatherman
says we are locked in the clouds.

The above is a great piece from Firer’s Transit of Venus.  I love this poem,  the way in which it connects all aspects of life so neatly. Successfully swirling wondrous mysteries and cosmic imagery into an elegant eighteen-line poem.  The final lines, in particular, resonated with me most of all. I will own this book, based solely on this poem and I hope that this writer continues to craft excellent verses for many years to come.

poetry5

Cody Jemes is the co-host of the Bored Shenanigans podcast available via iTunes and Stitcher. See more of his articles here. Also enjoy his poetry by downloading his latest e-book here. Be sure to follow Bored Shenanigans on Twitter or Facebook.

bslogo

Weekly Poetry Pick

Posted by Bored Shenanigans on

poetry5

Jim Morrison is a rock and roll icon. His dynamic songwriting and piercing vocals helped propel The Doors to the legendary status they enjoy amongst music lovers. Easily one of the greatest frontmen of all time, Morrison’s charismatic way with words is something to behold. His collections of writings and poems are compelling and moving. I’d highly recommend any of them to fans of his music or just fans of surrealistic poetry, these are for you. There are a few examples of his poems on the following link.

 

Power

I can make the earth stop in

its tracks. I made the

blue cars go away.

I can make myself invisible or small.

I can become gigantic & reach the

farthest things. I can change

the course of nature.

I can place myself anywhere in

space or time.

I can summon the dead.

I can perceive events on other worlds,

in my deepest inner mind,

& in the minds of others.

I can

I am

The above is from Wilderness: The Lost Writings of Jim Morrison. While some have claimed this book is inaccessible, I never found it as such. I enjoyed this poem and the vast journey the reader is taken upon with it. The vastness and mental imagery are excellent and this could easily have a been a portion of a song. I found the transitions well done and you sort of waft through the entire piece until arriving at the end. All in all, this is a great bit of writing by an incredible writer. Truly Jim Morrison’s verses are some of the humanities’ finest.

 

 

poetry

Cody Jemes is the co-host of the Bored Shenanigans podcast available via iTunes and Stitcher. See more of his articles here. Also enjoy his poetry by downloading his latest e-book here. Be sure to follow Bored Shenanigans on Twitter or Facebook.