Poetry Friday: Poetry Mix Tape for Autumn 2

It has been quite some time since I put together a Poetry Mix Tape. Since autumn is in full swing here in Michigan, I thought it would make for the perfect topic. I mixed some poems on autumn for you last year, but I think I like these even more. I hope you like them, too:

Theme in Yellow by Carl Sandburg
Aftermath by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
October by Bobbi Katz
Fall, Leaves, Fall by Emily Bronte
After Apple Picking by Robert Frost
Late Autumn Wasp by James Hoch

And perhaps my new favorite poem about Autumn by Juhan Liiv...

"Leaves Fell"


A gust roused the waves,
leaves blew into the water,
the waves were ash-gray,
the sky tin-gray,
ash-gray the autumn.


It was good for my heart,
there my feelings were ash-gray,
the sky tin-gray,
ash-gray the autumn.

You can read the rest of the poem here. The ending is good. Really good. And while the mood of the poem is kind of down, I like it for the complexity that's hidden there. The repetition and the imagery. I like it a lot.

If you like it, too, let me know. And if you like poetry, you'll love Poetry Friday, which today is being hosted at Jama's Alphabet Soup. Jama's also sharing some autumn poetry today (and one delicious-looking photo of a doughnut). So be sure to check it out!

Poetry Mix Tape: Poems on The End of the World

I like a little music in the morning on the way to work. But it has to be a certain kind of music. Nothing light. Nothing sappy. In the morning, I like my music up-tempo. And I like to play it loud. Is it weird to admit that I use music to pump me up some mornings as I drive to work? Too late now to take it back, I suppose. (I'll leave off the confession that I also like to sing along. At the top of my lungs.)

One song I often turn to for a little waking up is called "How Far We've Come" by Matchbox 20. It's up-tempo. It's loud. It's singable. And it's about the end of the world.

Where exactly am I going with this? Well there seems to be a small sub-genre of poetry that I enjoy--poems about the end of the world. Not sure why I enjoy these poems. I'm sure a psycho-analyst would have a field day with that one. But that's not why I'm here. I'm here to share some good "End of the World" poems with you. Now, I have to admit, there aren't many that I can find, but here are the ones I enjoy.

My favorite has to be this one, by Stanley Kunitz...

HALLEY'S COMET

Miss Murphy in first grade

wrote its name in chalk

across the board and told us

it was roaring down the stormtracks

of the Milky Way at frightful speed

and if it wandered off its course

and smashed into the earth

there’d be no school tomorrow.

A red-bearded preacher from the hills

with a wild look in his eyes

stood in the public square

at the playground’s edge

proclaiming he was sent by God

to save every one of us,

even the little children.

“Repent, ye sinners!” he shouted,

waving his hand-lettered sign.

At supper I felt sad to think

that it was probably

the last meal I’d share

with my mother and my sisters;

but I felt excited too

and scarcely touched my plate.

So mother scolded me

and sent me early to my room.

Read the rest of this poem here. As with so many end of the world poems, it's the ending that seals it.

Even though there aren't a ton of this type of poem out there, here are some more you might enjoy...well maybe poems about the end of the world aren't "enjoyable" per se, but you know what I mean:

• "Update on the Last Judgement" by Ellen Hinsey
• "When the World Ended as We Knew It" by Joy Harjo
• "A Song on the End of the World" by Czeslaw Milosz
• "The End of the World" by Archibald MacLeish
• "Fire and Ice" by Robert Frost
• "The end of the world" by Miroslav Holub
• "The Powwow at the End of the World" by Sherman Alexie
• "The End of the World" by Erica Jong
• "Disappointments of the Apocalypse" by Mary Karr

Maybe there are some more out there that I'm missing. Please let me know. And enjoy the mix.

Poetry Classics: Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Once again this winter, here in Michigan we are buried under snow. During the past seven days, almost all of the 12 or so inches on the ground melted away. But apparently winter isn't over yet because Sunday night we were pounded with about another foot.

"Watching it Snow at Night" is right up there with "Mountains on the Horizon" and "Waterfalls" and "Sunsets" and "The Sound of the Ocean" on my "Things in Nature I Love" list. And whenever I take a moment to watch or, even better, stand outside in, the falling flakes in the nighttime, my mind often turns to one of my favorite poems, "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening."

I think I first heard this poem as an elementary school student. Naturally, I was drawn to its near perfect meter and its exquisite rhyme scheme. I return to it often in my teaching and somehow it always comes to mind when there's an evening snowfall. It's ingrained in my memory, for sure. I'd also guess it's one of the most widely known poems in American history. And for good reason. There are some poems that truly will live on forever. And this has to be one of them...

Whose woods these are I think I know.   

His house is in the village though;   

He will not see me stopping here   

To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   

To stop without a farmhouse near   

Between the woods and frozen lake   

The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   

To ask if there is some mistake.   

The only other sound’s the sweep   

Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.

I think the opening image of the speaker trespassing in the woods is a great one. But it's the last stanza that gets me. That intentional repetition reinforcing the remaining journey leaves a lasting impression and probably resonates with anyone who has ever walked the earth.

You might enjoy the version of this poem illustrated by Susan Jeffers:

It's one of the books in my collection that I treasure the most.

So wherever you are, and however many feet of snow you are buried beneath, I hope you enjoyed a few moments with this classic poem.