I came upon Percy Bysshe Shelley and this poem like many have, a teenager with a school poetry anthology on my desk. It is a good teaching poem, what with its readily accessible irony—and so, “Ozymandias” came to me, nestled with poems by Keats and Byron, within the handy “The Romantics” chapter. Stepping outside the … Continue reading Ozymandias
My teenager asked me what I’m doing, overhearing me test-shouting the text of today’s piece Percy Bysshe Shelley’s “England 1819.” Here’s a link to that text if you want to follow along. “Shelley, the perfect English Romantic Poet, might have been the most radical poet of his time. In matters of sex, religion, politics, aesthetics … Continue reading The Angry Percy Bysshe Shelley: England 1819
As we enter into the weekend celebrating American Independence Day on July 4th, I thought I’d put together some poetry about the American experiment. While not unprecedented, this is a complex time to be doing that. We are clearly in troubled times, and while I myself am as troubled as the times, I can still … Continue reading Claude McKay’s America
I’d planned to move on from Carl Sandburg, but I couldn’t lose my train of thought. This weekend I got a book I’d ordered, “Christmas on the Farm” by illustrator and writer Bob Artley. Why such a book in the dog days of summer? Well, three weeks ago I attended a memorial service for an … Continue reading Pods (Neponset)
National news and household events continually waylay my attention. Dejected gutters, palace intrigues throwing glances on complicated and duplicitous political alliances, and a middle-schooler with the sniffles—how can one weigh these things against this small but welcomed audience here for music combined with (mostly) poetry? And so, I found myself short of material as I … Continue reading Jade Flower Palace
The place of short epigramic poetry in our culture, and just a touch of Percy Bysshe Shelley, combine in today’s piece. When people seek to stop the expansion of poetry in definition or in practice they will aim and fire at certain targets. If you look closely and slowly, you may see the bullet holes … Continue reading Shattered Visage
Today’s piece uses words from a more modern poem from a Minnesota poet: Renée Robbins. I met Renée after this piece was written, but I recall going with her to a very nice soirée celebrating the publication of this collection of poems by Minnesota poets, including her “My Feet”, 40 years ago. A good attempt … Continue reading My Feet
Frank Hudson 