Angelic

Standard

The seraphs called out from on high,
And the guardians shed their wings.
The archangels bristled with righteous indignance
At the massacre of all things.
To take arms up against one another,
Spill the blood of foes in the name of kin,
Seek glory in death, relish in power,
Is surely the deadliest sin.

Like what you’re reading?

Poetry in the News

Standard

Hello 😊

Here’s your poetry in the news for this week.

Matthew Zapruder has a new book coming out entitled Why Poetry, which speculates on the teaching – and learning – of poetry, and how we might have got it wrong. As someone who has always huffed suspiciously at the idea of there only ever being one true, definitive interpretation of a poem – usually decided by scholarly folk who often overlook things they don’t want to see in a poem in favour of the things they do – this book sounds like a little cheer of comraderie. Let people find whatever ‘hidden meanings’ they find in the words of a poem! Read the article here

More of this please! In New Delhi poets Sabika Abbas Naqvi and Shrenik Mutha perform Poetry at the Metro; covering subjects such as gender, feminism, facism and right-wing politics.

I have to admit, this next article was an education for me, exposed me for the ignorant thing I am. I discovered slam/spoken word poetry what has to be two, or three years ago now, and whilst it’s not something I could do myself (though I’d love to, just, people+stage=nightmare for me), I have grown to love seeing it perform. And until reading this article I had never considered that slam poetry could be performed by ASL artists. What. An. Idiot. I’m off to educate myself more because this article about ASL Slam has really opened my eyes, have a read and see if it does the same for you!

After the terror attack in Finsbury Park this week, poet and mental health spokesperson Hussain Manawer talks about the need for promoting harmony and love in the wake of these horrid attacks. It’s a really good article, please give it a read.

And finally, this is a beautiful article by Cyrus Shahrad talking about his father reciting poetry, and how important poetry is in Iranian culture. I can’t justify how good it is, go and give it a read for yourself.

I hope you’re all having good weeks!

x

Poem of the week: On His Blindness, John Milton

Standard

When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide,
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?
I fondly ask; but Patience to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts, who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best, his state
Is kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.

On His Blindness

Non Believer

Standard

You are no messenger of god.
I don’t believe in the words that you say,
Or the existence of your source,
So take your fake proclamations away.

I have no donkey to speak to me,
Nor one willing to carry my load.
There is just me on this broken path,
And I’m fairly sure I took the wrong road.

Do not speak as though eons of knowledge
Flow steadily, dripping from your tongue.
There is no guidance from your good book
Showing how this battle can be won.

Like what you’re reading?

Favourite Poets: Edgar Allen Poe, Romance

Standard
Romance, who loves to nod and sing,
With drowsy head and folded wing,
Among the green leaves as they shake
Far down within some shadowy lake,
To me a painted paroquet
Hath been—a most familiar bird—
Taught me my alphabet to say—
To lisp my very earliest word
While in the wild wood I did lie,
A child—with a most knowing eye.
Of late, eternal Condor years
So shake the very Heaven on high
With tumult as they thunder by,
I have no time for idle cares
Through gazing on the unquiet sky.
And when an hour with calmer wings
Its down upon my spirit flings—
That little time with lyre and rhyme
To while away—forbidden things!
My heart would feel to be a crime
Unless it trembled with the strings.
I haven’t read this one in so long I’d actualy forgotten it; crime! I’m terrible at remembering the names of poems so I suppose I can forgive myself a little… this poem is fairly short, compacts so much into its relatively few lines, and that bird theme throughout it just carries you through it. Love, love and love 🙂

🏳️‍🌈Pride Poetry🏳️‍🌈

Standard

Hello!

Ran out of reading material? Then look no further! Here’s a couple of links to lists of poetry put together to celebrate pride month. I’ve not read every one on the lists myself yet but I hope it’s a good start; these two sites are my go-to for poetry usually, so, I expect good things. Enjoy x

Poetry Foundation

Academy of American Poets