Psychadelic programmes
Lalalalalalala.... one banana, two banana, three banana, four, etc.
...5, 4, 3, 2, 1, blastoff!
(Really? Now that'd be an interesting conversation to hear!)
The Olympic Flame
Symbolism.
(It was an unusual conversation to listen to, to say the least....)
Do not go gentle into that good night
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
So poignant. (And so unusual to hear from an original recording..)
(What's your favourite poem, Dev?)
Hmmm. I'd really have to think about that one! It's been so long since I've had time to sit & read poetry! I love Shakespeare & just about all the classics. Lately I read my daughter's poetry!
The Road Not Taken was the first one I memorized. and I like Maya Angelou's Inauguration poem, but I wouldn't say their my favs.
What's your favorite? You seem to know so many from memory.
Ooh, wonderful! What is the theme in her poetry that she writes about the most? How long has she been writing?
!!""!!"" <-- throw these in anywhere, so that it doesn't look like the 'Can we talk?' thread.
As for my favourite; I love the ones that you have mentioned, although I prefer Shakespeare's plays to his poetry, and I don't like much else of Angelou... I have a favourite poem for every day, I guess; I don't know why. Perhaps this poem, An Arundel Tomb, is top 3; it's so beautiful:
Side by side, their faces blurred,
The earl and countess lie in stone,
Their proper habits vaguely shown
As jointed armour, stiffened pleat,
And that faint hint of the absurd -
The little dogs under their feet.
Such plainness of the pre-baroque
Hardly involves the eye, until
It meets his left-hand gauntlet, still
Clasped empty in the other; and
One sees, with a sharp tender shock,
His hand withdrawn, holding her hand.
They would not think to lie so long.
Such faithfulness in effigy
Was just a detail friends would see:
A sculptor's sweet commissioned grace
Thrown off in helping to prolong
The Latin names around the base.
They would not guess how early in
Their supine stationary voyage
The air would change to soundless damage,
Turn the old tenantry away;
How soon succeeding eyes begin
To look, not read. Rigidly, they
Persisted, linked, through lengths and breadths
Of time. Snow fell, undated. Light
Each summer thronged the glass. A bright
Litter of birdcalls strewed the same
Bone-riddled ground. And up the paths
The endless altered people came,
Washing at their identity.
Now, helpless in the hollow of
An unarmorial age, a trough
Of smoke in slow suspended skeins
Above their scrap of history,
Only an attitude remains:
Time has transfigured them into
Untruth. The stone fidelity
They hardly meant has come to be
Their final blazon, and to prove
Our almost-instinct almost true:
What will survive of us is love.
