When I Heard at the Close of Day, by Walt Whitman – Read by DJB

My best friend, my boyfriend was here to visit and went back home to Wilkes-Barre before the snow flew today. I was thinking of this before he came, and wanted to share it with you. One of my favorite Whitman poems; I hope you like it.

Love Poem, Written and Read by DJB

Tons of things I’d like to write this week. I need to get back to a previous thread. No, Brother I haven’t forgotten. But 50 hours at work, plus school and trying to be a descent dad and boyfriend as well as a poet. lol No wonder my apartment looks like a wrecking crew was here!

Anyway, here is a piece by me. I’ve written just a couple of good love poems in my life, but for today here is one that’s gotten me into some trouble in the past. All I will say is that the feelings were real. I’m a poet, not a historian.

Here I Love You, by Pablo Neruda – Poem Read by DJB

Spring Birding Trip!

Derby Hill, I am dreaming of you… Somewhere mid to late April would be nice. I recall one day back in the 90’s a beautiful hour in which kettle after kettle, spiraling overhead came 1,050 Broad-winged hawks! Yes, during one hour! Can’t wait to pack up the Nikons and get going again, maybe stay in one of those fisherman cabins again.

Blooper Reel – Failed Poetry Readings.

I will try to edit the one where I broke down and started yelling at the cat for howling on the video, but it’s a bit long until you get to the funny part. For now, I hope these give you a little chuckle.

Ear Plugs… no wonder Brian was able to sleep with the three of us in the house!

On this next one I was trying to record when at the end of a good reading, Youtube said, “Error publishing. Press OK to re-record.” I think I pressed OK before I knew what had happened and there we were on camera all looking bewildered. But hey, any chance to show off my sons is a chance I can’t pass up!

Poem, an Old Favorite, by Frank O’Hara

Before continuing with the love poem theme for this month, I thought I’d read a little Charles Simic. But the poetry gods or the Youtube gods, whichever, seemed to be against the idea. Perhaps later I’ll post some blooper reels and give you an idea of what I mean. For now, I decided to read an old standby, to the amusement of Jonathan and Micah who were just off camera, “Poem,” by Frank O’Hara, one of many of his poems with that title.

The last time I read this for more than one or two people was at an English Honors Fraternity initiation. Nice memories there.

My Love is Building a Building

In anticipation of Valentine’s Day, here is one of the best (in my humble opinion) love poems ever written by the often wacky, always unique e. e. cummings. The text of the poem is printed below.

my love is building a building
around you, a frail slippery
house, a strong fragile house
(beginning at the singular beginning

of your smile)a skilful uncouth
prison, a precise clumsy
prison(building thatandthis into Thus,
Around the reckless magic of your mouth)

my love is building a magic, a discrete
tower of magic and(as i guess)

when Farmer Death(whom fairies hate)shall

crumble the mouth-flower fleet
He'll not my tower,
                          laborious, casual

where the surrounded smile
                                       hangs

                                                breathless

David Reads “A Supermarket California,” by Allen Ginsberg

For the printed version of the text I will direct you to Poetryarchive.org where you can also hear Ginsberg’s reading. Um… no, I still haven’t listened to it yet. The very idea is intimidating. And if you’d like to know more about the movie Howl, check out this article at SlashFilm. If you are in my neck of Penn’s Woods when this thing hits the theaters (and I imagine it will be at the Campus Theater in Lewisburg eventually), let me know and we can take a pack of us to view it!

One Art, by Elizabeth Bishop

This is one of my favorite poems, and while Elizabeth Bishop has fun with the French Villanelle form, I have a little fun at the expense of my Irish brother, Vincent. I enjoyed recording this reading and even have one really fantastic blooper reel that I might be willing to show to you (if you plead and beg nicely) as a result of the cat caterwauling in the background.

The text of the poem is printed there, just below my handsome face. Enjoy!

One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

–Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Keeping Things Whole, a poem by Mark Strand

Keeping Things Whole

by Mark Strand

In a field
I am the absence
of field
This is
always the case.
Wherever I am
I am what is missing.

When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in
to fill the spaces
where my body’s been.

We all have reasons
for moving.
I move
to keep things whole.