Something for Your Poet's Heart

Photo by Ian Dolphin via Flickr

I could read poetry aloud for hours and hours and hours if I had a captive audience. As a matter of fact, I need to allow myself to do that more often, whether it's Wordsworth or Levertov or Oliver or Poe, I need to let poetry pass through my lips, even if it's just for myself. 

Think that's boring? Think it's no fun? Well, feast your eyes on this. Samuel Chelpka was only three when he asked his mother to read this Billy Collins piece to him over and over again. He caught the magic in it. 

Maybe it's time for you to catch the magic in poetry, too? How about a virtual poetry jam! I'd love to see you read your favorite piece. Record yourself reading poetry and post it on your blog, and let me know you've done it in the comments below. I'll put mine up, too. Then, I'll choose one reader a week from today (February 18) to win a $50 Amazon gift card. 

If Samuel Chelpka can do it, we can do it, too. 

Bring out your poetry! 

LITANY

By Billy Collins 

You are the bread and the knife 

the crystal goblet and the wine. 

You are the dew on the morning grass 

and the burning wheel of the sun. 

You are the white apron of the baker  

and the marsh birds suddenly in flight 

However, you are not the wind in the orchard, 

the plums on the counter, 

or the house of cards. 

And you are certainly not the pine-scented 

air. 

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge, 

maybe even the pigeon on the general’s head, 

but you are not even close 

to being the field of cornflowers at dusk. 

And a quick look in the mirror will show 

that you are neither the boots in the corner 

nor the boat asleep in its boathouse. 

It might interest you to know, 

speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world, 

that I am the sound of rain on the roof. 

I also happen to be the shooting star, 

the evening paper blowing down an alley, 

and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table. 

I am also the moon in the trees 

and the blind woman’s tea cup. 

But don’t worry, I am not the bread and the knife. 

You are still the bread and the knife. 

You will always be the bread and the knife, 

not to mention the crystal goblet and – somehow – 

the wine.