Here, Just listen.

Ever since I could remember, which is basically round the same time I learned to speak or read, I have always been someone who hated to read out loud. Public speaking, public reading ... articulate? I was a reader, still am. Through and through. I remember my junior year in high school my English teacher made us read poems out loud, going around the room. As as much as I hate reading out loud (and boy, did I hate it) that idea stuck with me: That the rhythm of the words and the beat of a poem needs to be heard, not just read. The day I fell in love with Mary Oliver's poetry I was at Remedy and Jackie Newman leaned across the counter and said, let me read it to you. And she leaned over and quietly read aloud from Thirst. If I were sitting beside you right now, I would do the same thing. Even though I have not learned to hate reading out loud any less (man, i still hate it), I would lean over and take the book out of your hand and say, "here, just listen. Just let me read this to you." And then I would quietly read it and you would think it was charming, just like I did when Jackie did it. It's just the speaking and the hearing of the thing; The poem would have voice and the rhythm would have a beat and it would better than just reading it quietly. But because I still hate me having to do the reading, and because I'm not, in fact, with you, and mostly because far better than me reading you anything is the poet reading their own poetry. If you close your eyes, the beat and the rhythm sound almost like live music. Most of these are videos with the audio recording included because that was the easiest way to find the readings. The audio is infinitely more important than the images in the video itself. So really, don't watch, just listen: Langston Hughes, TS Eliot, and Maya Angelou and Jude Simpson. Pretend that you bathed in the Euphrates when the dawns were young; That you were one of the women going to and fro, talking of Michaelangelo. That you hummed like a hive of honey bees and, God, how I loved your hair.
If you only listen to one, let it be Maya Angelou. Sweet voice. great, great poem.

Langston Hughes, Negro Speaks of Rivers

http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15722


T.S. Eliot, Love Song of J. Alfred Prufock



Maya Angelou, In and Out of Time


Jude Simpson, Not Cut Out for Religion