reading

Reading Poetry Out Loud

My wife has gone out

with a girlfriend for the day,

so I sit and read

some of my favourite poems 

out loud. Really loud!


Reading a poem out loud

brings out the musicality

of the piece.


I let my lungs rip into Larkin,

then follow with a foray

into Masefield's Mother Carey.


I stop for tea and a toasted tea-cake

before resuming with

Bukowski's Bluebird.


Then I venture into

Voltaire's vivid and varied verse.


I finish with a little levity,

letting out my inner lampoon,

laughing like a lunatic

at Lear's Limericks!


Then my wife arrives home

and asks, "What have you

been doing with yourself?"


"Oh, just reading quietly

in the corner," 

I reply.


Copyright © Robert Haigh 2017








Author's Notes/Comments: 

The only time I read poetry out loud is when my wife goes out!

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Other Life

Folder: 
Hand Written

"First, he says, 

 

first and foremost,

the cub has it's roar, 

or did I mean Lion? 

 

He tells me, 

performs for me, 

the vivid imagery

of the courage and strength, 

 

trying to give unto another.

No script, no paper, 

off memory, his poetry

is in his heart, 

 

and apart from my written word, 

wow, can i perforn like

the one singing bump and grind? 

Well, I most definitely have 

 

not the voice. 

But, 

the artist has instead

his art in his soul, 

 

and no pen or pad

or book in hand, man, 

this man has it. 

So does She

 

giving me sweet epiphany, 

alliteration and onomatopoeia, 

hyperbole, dreams of red velvet, 

a memory of perhaps

 

succulent treat, 

and after a beat, 

another artist approaches,

such powerful words. 

 

All of them, 

potential no longer blocked, 

mind unlocked,

her voice giving me thoughts. 

 

I am home, 

I am surrounded by poets, 

artists, lovers, dreamers, 

those who have suffered

 

more than I, 

hearing some of the pleas. 

It would indeed be

enriching, more imbued positivity. 

 

And perhaps comical

as I watch one poet

almost run over another

on trip to couch.

 

I grin, laughed, 

laughed more when asked

to rurn to page 24. 

Hands, the color red, 

 

subjects being poured about

by all these great writers. 

Such emotion, 

they read,

 

I listen.

Tonight isn't about me, 

this is about them, 

and I am humbled again. 

 

Tonight is about you,

and you, and all of you 

who pour their soul, 

so vulnerable. 

 

Lessons, being preached to me, 

wise words, being brushed 

across my canvas,

their paint so vibrant.

 

Their pain so real, 

like my own. 

What I strive to do, 

being done unto me. 

 

They want to write, 

they make me want to 

write, right now. 

Never stop writing, 

 

requesting got returned keys, 

being alive. 

Poetry has kept me alive. 

You, artists, breathe into me...

 

life."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem I wrote while observing a poetry reading of other poets. I read this piece during the 'Open Mic' portion, each poet smiling at my own nod to each of their own pieces. A good night of art.

Mind Wiped

 

A blank canvas
Words black made of Ink
Art. Mind wiped
My feelings laid out and typed

Blindness. A tad bit of numbness
Realizing my bumbness.
Legs shaking. Arms aching
I cant believe the shit im taking

The shit im making.
Leaning over a toilet.
My head flushing. not faking.
I need to start concentrating

I need to start thinking
Close my eyes.
Head cold.
Stop the beeping

My soul is reaping
My heart skipping and leaping
In Class reading some Randy Pausch
One to eleven. The counting feels like im in the mosh

In the pit. Pushed down
Shoved around.
A kid screaming. Throwing a fit
Get up take the hit


This is fun
Exhaustion I must overcome
When those doors open I gotta run
Sit up front you fucking cunt

You’re so small.
A fucking runt. Im sorry.
Am I being to blunt?
Here smoke this blunt.

A delicacy but I would be in tangle
Saturday morning and I was to be strangled
I went to the fridge to get a bagel
Yelled at so many angles

Still dealing with it all
She would have me take the fall
Told me to crawl.
All the way. By the way

that reminds me. Gosh
Thank you Josh. You took me in.
Helped me not get squashed
Lent me a bed. Even a place to wash.

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Everything I know...I know...I learned from children's books

One day I ran to Grandpa
And I looked into his ear.
“Mommy says you’re pretty smart
Do you keep your brains in here?”

Oh, It’s too dark. I can’t see a thing
I don’t know what to do.
Grandpa is there any way
I’ll be as smart as you?”

Grandpa set me on his lap.
He gave my hand a squeeze.
“The wisdom you are seeking, Billy
Can be found in all of these.”

He pointed to his bookshelf and said,
“Billy..take a look.”
“Everything I know..I know
I learned from children’s books.”

By listening to or reading the words
Or inspecting the pictures drawn
Oh...the wondrous things that I have seen
And the places I have gone. 

I’ve been to worlds where strange things happen.
I’ve seen animals dance and sing.
I’ve known fairies and dragons and pirates
And Princesses and Kings.

I’ve been to Africa with a curious monkey
On a bear hunt under the pines
Rescued from a well in China
And to France with Madeline

Along the way, everywhere I went
My imagination has been churned
And I’ll be glad to share with you
Some...of the things that I have learned:

I’ve learned about the weather,
From Freddy, he’s a frog. 
I’ve seen a cold and snowy day 
I’ve seen it raining cat’s and dogs

It seems I’ve learned so many things
I was not taught in school
Like what happens when my teacher’s missing,
And that Wimpy kids are cool.

I learned some girls like to be fancy,
That there are alphabets in my soups
I learned it’s okay to wear the color pink
And that everybody poops.

I learned about dragons, they love tacos,
I visited the Wild Things land
I learned that when I’m nervous or scared
I have my kissing hand.

I learned the beauty of inventing words
Like this one...maple surple
I watched as a boy named Harold drew the moon
And I learned nothing rhymes with purple.

Dr. Seuss taught me colors and counting
I played a game with his Cat in the Hat
His Lorax taught me ecology 
Now what do you think about that?

I’ve learned meatballs can fall from the sky
And when you’re in a jam
What’s the best thing you can give yourself...
Why...green eggs and ham.

Amelia Bedelia taught me how to think
She takes things so literally.
I’ve learned of joy and tenderness
Under the Giving Tree.

I learned to watch the world around me
From a poky little pup
While a little engine and a steam shovel
Taught me never to give up.

I’ve learned that love and tolerance
Are what matters in the end.
I’ve learned a lion and a mouse or a spider and a pig
Can be the best of friends.

I’ve learned an express train takes you to Santa.
That a reindeer’s nose can glow.
I’ve learned a frosty snowman can come alive
And a Grinch’s heart can grow

I’ve learned not to give a mouse a cookie
It causes too much of a fuss
I’ve learned that cows can type, bears like honey   
And not to let pigeons drive the bus.

I’ve learned gentleness from a bull,
Integrity from a bat
And that one bear can be big and brown
While another wears a hat.

I’ve learned fish can come in rainbow colors
That a wolf can huff and puff
I’ve learned a caterpillar can be hungry
And Billy Goats can be gruff.

I’ve learned to wake up in the morning with a smile.
I’ve learned to sing a happy tune
I’ve learned to think of others...to be nice
And say good night to the moon.

As I grew up it didn’t stop
How my learning did expand
As I followed a rabbit down a hole 
And flew to Neverland.

I learned about life on the Mississippi
Watching a young boy and Indian flee
I learned about kindred spirits
In a town called Avonlea. 

I learned from wizards, witches and Hobbits 
From creatures big and small
That goodness wins out in the end
And there’s magic in us all.

“I could go on and on.” Grandpa said
But to one thought I must return
Of all the things I know...I know...
There’s always more to learn.

But if you spend a little time reading
Before long this I know
Oh the things that you will learn
And the places you will go.

Then Grandpa set me at my desk
And he gave my head a kiss
He patted me on my shoulder
And then he told me this....

If you’re seeking wisdom, Billy
You don’t have far to look
Everything you need to know...
Cab be found in children’s books.

THE END

Between the Lines

The crispness of the page beneath my fingertips,

Yellowing edges and bent corners,

Every word a missing puzzle piece,

Unraveling the mystery- unread... untouched.

The abyss of my unending pain melting away,

Eyes moving across in a practiced motion,

Craving each sentence... each dialogue.

My life becomes theirs,

Their existences etched in my heart,

Telling each story as if I lived them.

For a moment, my life is whole,

For a moment, I forget.

Until reality crashes like a thousand tidal waves,

Ripping me away into the violent current.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Little thing I wrote about books. Hope you enjoy. 

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যখন খারাপ থাকে মন, পড় বই তখন

মাঝে মাঝে কোনও কারণ ছাড়াই মনটা খারাপ হয়,


মানব চরিত্রে এমন হওয়া স্বাভাবিক নিশ্চয়!


মাথাব্যথা হলে যেমন নাপা খেতে হয়,


তেমনি মনের খারাপ লাগা যায় কেটে মন যখন বইয়ে থিতু হয়!


 

সত্যি বলছি, কথাটি একেবারে একশো ভাগ খাঁটি,


যখনই কারো মন খারাপ হবে তখনই নিতে হবে প্রিয় বইটি,


বইয়ের পাতায় মুক্তোর মত বিছানো শব্দগুলো পড়লে,


বিষণ্ণতা যাবে ডুবে অতল কুয়ার জলে!


 

বই মনোযোগ অন্য দিকে নেবার ক্ষেত্রে এক মোক্ষম হাতিয়ার!

 

এ কথা প্রণিধানযোগ্য তোমার আমার সবার!

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Read Books to Remove Depression

Read books to remove depression,


To cut off tension,


To soothe your mind,


The nectar in books you shall find.


 

The books like prayers purify one’s soul,


By stabbing all that is evil and foul,


They are a doorway to knowledge,


The very first step to be wise with age.


 

The books are the best friends of man,


Certified by the great including Francis Bacon.

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"What Was That?"

Folder: 
Just a thought!

People are people, they either write like they know everything...or know nothing..

Depends what you read at the time... In the end, all words run on and disappear...

Pages and thoughts stuck together, Titles smeared from coffee rings and time.

Your mind stained from perceived notions or useless banter. Trying to forage

a useable thought... Head shakes, jaws flap, trying to eliminate brain overload...

I need a "System Restore button!"




Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just some humor....If you don't get it...."Too bad so sad"Tongue Out

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SLOW READER

 

I am an avid reader now, but not so long ago

When I was in school I was admonished because I read so slow.

 

(OK perhaps by not mentioning it was a very, very long time ago I am being remiss....

Just remember time is relative...now let’s get on with this!)

 

For many years I didn’t read, you might say to reading I was averse

I’m reading again, still slowly, but I now see it as a blessing not a curse.

 

When you open a book you never know what the author has in store

Will there be drama, comedy, mystery or perhaps a little something more.

 

If you see a book as only words on paper...that makes them seem so bland

I see those words as stepping stones into another land.

 

From the comfort of my bed or chair the adventure doth begin

For once I turn a page I can visit places I’ve never been

 

I can journey to exotic lands, witness untold beauty so sublime...

It’s even possible in a book to go traveling through time.

 

I can help solve difficult cases, know what’s lingering behind that door

I can feel the joy of love when it emerges, or the horrors of a war.

 

Where else can you travel the globe and experience such wonderful panoramas

All from the safety of your home while still in your pajamas?

 

Which brings me back to reading slowly, if I can travel from the present to the past,

From one world to the next, why would I want to read fast?

 

No, I prefer to take my time for it is my long range plan

Once I find a great book, to linger there as long as I can.

 

So to those teachers who said I read too slow, you were right but there’s an upside

 

In slowing down the joy lasts longer and I definitely enjoy the ride.

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