Goodpoetry

Listen to more GoodPoetry at www.GoodPoetry.org, iTunes, Stitcher and GooglePlay Music and connect with us @itsGoodPoetry on Facebook, and Twitter. -------------------------------------- "A Poem" by Teyuna Trynea Darris A poem does not have to rhyme It simply shares a record of a tale about some interesting/practical event that all humans share. A poem is a dream of the pictures we live (daily) of the stories we see, hear, taste, touch--- smell. A poem is a reflection of the people, of the dream, of the vision, of the fight, of the struggle, of the hurts and sorrows and freedoms and captivities and triumphant victories and defeat and loss and hopes. A poem is a story of a genre of an outlet, of a means to share of an outstrecthed hand of a friend who is seeking of a man who is weeping. A poem is… A poem is… A song A dance A folding of the hands An observation A cry An inclination--- A try And celebration. A poem is a poem. Teyuna T. Darris January 23rd, 2009

Listen to more GoodPoetry at www.GoodPoetry.org, iTunes, Stitcher and GooglePlay Music and connect with us @itsGoodPoetry on Facebook, and Twitter. -------------------------------------- "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds and shall find me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.

Listen to more GoodPoetry at www.GoodPoetry.org, iTunes, Stitcher and GooglePlay Music and connect with us @itsGoodPoetry on Facebook, and Twitter. -------------------------------------- "The New Colossus" BY EMMA LAZARUS Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. “Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Listen to more GoodPoetry at www.GoodPoetry.org, iTunes, Stitcher and GooglePlay Music and connect with us @itsGoodPoetry on Facebook, and Twitter. -------------------------------------- ""The Arrow and the Song" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow" I shot an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song? Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend.

Listen to more GoodPoetry at www.GoodPoetry.org, iTunes, Stitcher and GooglePlay Music and connect with us @itsGoodPoetry on Facebook, and Twitter. ______________________________________ “GoodPoetry” What are the prerequisites For good poetry? Is it the layout on the page Or, a pretty word to calm fears Or, to stir emotion Or, to put you in-between? Does good poetry sound good? Are its iambs and pentameters in perfect mode? (or, is it form?) Is it a sonnet or a villanelle? Does it rhyme or unrhyme, And can it have the rhythm, And not have the rhyme? Is it sexy, seductive, sassy, and sweet? Or, is it conserve-ed, passive, humble and bleak? Don’t ask me to define a good poem For all the world could not contain its potential And no author, nor critic could pen, or contend its true definition. What is good poetry? Let the poem decide. Written @ 8:56pm on 08/30/2011 by Teyuna T. Darris

Listen to more GoodPoetry at www.GoodPoetry.org, and on iTunes, Sticher, the GooglePlay Music store and YouTube. ______________________________________ We’ll Go No More A-Roving by Lord Byron So We'll Go No More a Roving BY LORD BYRON (GEORGE GORDON) So, we'll go no more a roving So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving, And the moon be still as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And love itself have rest. Though the night was made for loving, And the day returns too soon, Yet we'll go no more a roving By the light of the moon.

Listen to more GoodPoetry at www.GoodPoetry.com, and connect with @itsGoodPoetry on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. ______________________________________ "My Poetical Side" by Teyuna T. Darris I just thought I'd unleash My poetical side. 'Cause in everyday life, I live to hide. Need something of freedom: From time to time Need something of feeling: To kiss my prime, To hush my cries To love my eyes. I just thought I'd show My virgin side: All kids and maude--- The unaduletered tide. See, I don't tend to fancy things: Just those crystal, cloudless, Truthly things. But, since this long time, I thought I'd hush my mawky, Ad stick to truth: Not fraud and lofty. See feelings of rue And silent ado. This time, I'll refine: My poetical side. by Teyuna Trynea Darris from "Stuff I Wrote from My Heart" Follow @tdarris on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Tumblr.

Listen to more GoodPoetry at www.GoodPoetry.org, and connect with @itsGoodPoetry on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram ______________________________________ "Let America Be America Again" by Langston Hughes Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is free. (America never was America to me.) Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed— Let it be that great strong land of love Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme That any man be crushed by one above. (It never was America to me.) O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life is free, Equality is in the air we breathe. (There’s never been equality for me, Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”) Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark? And who are you that draws your veil across the stars? I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart, I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars. I am t

"The Red Wheelbarrow" by William Carlos Williams; Read by Teyuna Darris Read and more GoodPoetry at www.GoodPoetry.org, and listen on Audible, iTunes, Stitcher, Spotify, Anchor.Fm, iHeart and GooglePlay Music and connect with us @itsGoodPoetry on Facebook, and Twitter. ---------------------------- "The Red Wheelbarrow" by William Carlos Williams; so much dependsupon a red wheelbarrow glazed with rainwater beside the whitechickens

Listen to more GoodPoetry at www.GoodPoetry.org, and join @GoodPoetry on Facebook and Twitter. ______________________________________ "Fog" BY CARL SANDBURG The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.

Listen to more GoodPoetry at www.GoodPoetry.org. ______________________________________ "If-ing" If I had some small change I’d buy me a mule, Get on that mule and Ride like a fool. If I had some greenbacks I’d buy me a Packard, Fill it up with gas and Drive that baby backward. If I had a million I’d get me a plane And everybody in America’d Think I was insane. But I ain’t got a million, Fact is, ain’t got a dime — So just by if-ing I have a good time!

Listen to more GoodPoetry at www.GoodPoetry.org, and join @GoodPoetry on Facebook and Twitter. ______________________________________ "Fog" BY CARL SANDBURG The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.

Listen to more GoodPoetry at www.GoodPoetry.org. "Snail" Written by Langston Hughes Read by Teyuna T. Darris Little snail, Dreaming you go. Weather and rose Is all you know. Weather and rose Is all you see, Drinking The dewdrop’s Mystery. Langston Hughes From Collected Poems. Copyright ©1994 by The Estate of Langston Hughes.

Listen to "Dream Dust" by Langston Hughes, read by Teyuna T. Darris. Watch "Dream Dust" by Langston Hughes--- www.youtube.com/watch?v=CnwOES3ZC9U

Listen to Phillis Wheatley's poem, entitled, "On Being Brought from Africa to America" read by Teyuna T. Darris. More at www.GoodPoetry.org.

Audio recording of Teyuna T. Darris reading "I Hear America Singing" by Walt Whitman.

No matter what we are and who, Some duties everyone must do: A poet puts aside his wreath To wash his face and brush his teeth, And even Earls Must comb their curls, And even Kings Have underthings.

He had his dream, and all through life, Worked up to it through toil and strife. Afloat fore'er before his eyes, It colored for him all his skies: The storm-cloud dark Above his bark, The calm and listless vault of blue Took on its hopeful hue, It tinctured every passing beam - He had his dream. He labored hard and failed at last, His sails too weak to bear the blast, The raging tempests tore away And sent his beating bark astray. But what cared he For wind or sea! He said, 'The tempest will be short, My bark will come to port.' He saw through every cloud a gleam - He had his dream.

This is a poetry reading from GoodPoetry.org. Today, "I had no time to hate, because" by Emily Dickinson is presented. Narrated by Teyuna T. Darris.