LOTSA A CAPPELLA
POETRY MONTH

Lotsa A Cappella home | What's New | Lotsa A Cappella Links | Concerts | Photos | History | Contact |
Dr. King Special | Halloween Special | Christmas music | Poetry Month | 9/11 Tribute |

April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain...

~ T.S. Eliot, from The Waste Land


"April is in my mistress' face..."

www.flickr.com

Poetry Month playlists

April 18, 2010


Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.

~ Victor Hugo


Tell the Truth
But tell it slant---
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind.

~ Emily Dickinson ~


April is National Poetry Month

The blood jet is poetry, there is no stopping it.

~ Sylvia Plath


Celebrate National Poetry Month by listening to Literature for the Halibut, now on Monday evenings on 88.1 KDHX, (available on podcast anytime) and by checking out www.Poets.org.

Poetry In Motion

Charles Bernstein's 1999 article "Against National Poetry Month As Such" is interesting reading.

Find Poetry Online

For the latest Lotsa A Cappella playlist, click on the link below:


After the last red sunset glimmer,
Black on the line of a low hill rise,
Formed into moving shadows, I saw
A plowboy and two horses lined against the gray,
Plowing in the dusk the last furrow.
The turf had a gleam of brown,
And smell of soil was in the air,
And, cool and moist, a haze of April.

I shall remember you long,
Plowboy and horses against the sky in shadow.
I shall remember you and the picture
You made for me,
Turning the turf in the dusk
And haze of an April gloaming.

~ Carl Sandburg, Plowboy



"April is the cruelest month..."

To celebrate National Poetry Month, Lotsa A Cappella featured songs with "poetic" lyrics. We played songs written by:


Quote Garden: On Poetry



"The crown of literature is poetry. It is its end and aim. It is the sublimest activity of the human mind. It is the achievement of beauty and delicacy. The writer of prose can only step aside when the poet passes."

~ Somerset Maugham


VALENTINES

Forgive me if I have not sent you
a valentine
but I thought you knew
that you already have my heart
Here take the space where my heart goes
I give that to you too

~ Henry Dumas


daffodil


daffodil


daffodil

Bill, I love you so, I always will.
I look at you and see the passion eyes of May.
Oh, but am I ever gonna see my wedding day?
Oh, I was on your side, Bill, when you were losing.
I'd never scheme or lie, Bill, there's been no fooling.
But kisses and love won't carry me till you marry me, Bill.

I love you so, I always will,
and in your voice I hear a choir of carousels.
Oh, but am I ever gonna hear my wedding bells?

~ words and music by Laura Nyro


Google

WWW LOTSA.US

www.flickr.com


The voice is the most fluid instrument; you can slide from one end to the other. You can laugh, cry, squeal, grunt...

~ Bobby McFerrin


...For you're the lover I have waited for -
The mate that fate had me created for.
And every time your lips meet mine,
Darling, down and down I go, round and round I go
In a spin, loving the spin I'm in
Under THAT OLD BLACK MAGIC called love.

~ words by Johnny Mercer, music by Harold Arlen

www.flickr.com

...Those who have died have never left
The dead are not under the earth
They are in the rustling trees
They are in the groaning woods
They are in the crying grass
They are in the moaning rocks

Listen more often to things than to beings
Listen more often to things than to beings
'Tis the ancestors' breath when the fire's voice is heard
'Tis the ancestors' breath in the voice of the waters...

~ words adapted from Birago Diop; music by Ysaye Maria Barnwell


daffodil




daffodil




daffodil




daffodil




daffodil


To Daffodils

Fair daffodils, we weep to see
     You haste away so soon;
As yet the early-rising sun
     Has not attain’d his noon.
         Stay, stay
     Until the hasting day
        Has run
     But to the evensong;
And, having pray’d together, we
     Will go with you along.

We have short time to stay, as you,
We have as short a spring;
As quick a growth to meet decay,
As you, or anything.
         We die
     As your hours do, and dry
         Away
     Like to the summer’s rain;
Or as the pearls of morning’s dew,
     Ne’er to be found again.

     ~ Robert Herrick

www.flickr.com

I always danced when mere walking would have done, so glad was I of life, so full of health.

~ Josephine Demott Robinson




There is not any haunt of prophecy,
Nor any old chimera of the grave,
Neither the golden underground, nor isle
Melodious, where spirits gat them home,
Nor visionary south, nor cloudy palm
Remote on heaven's hill, that has endured
As April's green endures; or will endure
Like her remembrance of awakened birds,
Or her desire for June and evening, tipped
By the consummation of the swallow's wings.

~ Wallace Stevens, Sunday Morning




www.flickr.com


Why do birds
suddenly appear
Everytime
you are near
Just like me
they long to be
Close to you...

~ words and music by Burt Bacharach


daffodil




daffodil




daffodil




daffodil




daffodil


in Just-

in Just-
spring       when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman whistles
     far     and wee
and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's
spring
when the world is puddle-wonderful
the queer
old balloonman whistles
far      and     wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing
from hop-scotch and jump-rope and
it's
spring
and
       the
             goat-footed
balloonMan         whistles
far
and
wee

     ~ e.e. cummings


www.flickr.com


To An Early Daffodil

Thou yellow trumpeter of laggard Spring!
   Thou herald of rich Summer’s myriad flowers!
   The climbing sun with new recovered powers
Does warm thee into being, through the ring
Of rich, brown earth he woos thee, makes thee fling
   Thy green shoots up, inheriting the dowers
   Of bending sky and sudden, sweeping showers,
Till ripe and blossoming thou art a thing
   To make all nature glad, thou art so gay;
To fill the lonely with a joy untold;
   Nodding at every gust of wind to-day,
To-morrow jewelled with raindrops. Always bold
   To stand erect, full in the dazzling play
Of April’s sun, for thou hast caught his gold.

     ~ Amy Lowell


 


5


Lotsa AT kdhx DOT org