Wednesday, 2 October 2013

getting ready for National Poetry Day tomorrow...

By John William Waterhouse


































I am going to be doing poetry activities with the children at the local school tomorrow. The theme is 'Water' so I have had an enjoyable day today reading different poetry anthologies and wallowing in various water themed poems, collecting some together to read with the children. For the reception class I have made the top half of a mermaid and I am going to get them to help me make her scales and write words on that they think describes life under the sea.


The Mermaid

by Alfred Lord Tennyson

I.


Who would be
A mermaid fair,
Singing alone,
Combing her hair
Under the sea,
In a golden curl
With a comb of pearl,
On a throne?

Saturday, 10 August 2013

Honor the Treaties

design by Shepard Fairey

























'Honor the Treaties is an organization dedicated to amplifying the voices of Indigenous communities through art and advocacy. We do that by funding collaborations between Native artists and Native advocacy groups so that their messages can reach a wider audience'

Thursday, 1 August 2013

Natalie Merchant: incredible TED talk

TED talks are always interesting and inspiring...but this one was haunting and beautiful. Natalie Merchant sings old poems back to life. Her voice has a wonderful, dangerous edge. Like a beautiful, sharp, ornate dagger.You could hold it in your hand and marvel at the silver beauty of it but if you slip it will cut you.



















'Natalie Merchant sings from her new album, Leave Your Sleep. Lyrics from near-forgotten 19th-century poetry pair with her unmistakable voice for a performance that brought the TED audience to its feet.'


I especially like how she sings the Sleepy Giant. Her voice transforms the words and imbues it with a different meaning to me, something regretful about past love affairs and it is deeply sensual.  

 The Sleepy Giant

Charles E. Carryl (1841 – 1920)


My age is three hundred and seventy-two,
And I think, with the deepest regret,
How I used to pick up and voraciously chew
The dear little boys whom I met.

I’ve eaten them raw, in their holiday suits;
I’ve eaten them curried with rice;
I’ve eaten them baked, in their jackets and boots,
And found them exceedingly nice.

But now that my jaws are too weak for such fare,
I think it exceedingly rude
To do such a thing, when I’m quite well aware
Little boys do not like to be chewed.

And so I contentedly live upon eels,
And try to do nothing amiss,
And I pass all the time I can spare from my meals
In innocent slumber—like this.