Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

Poetic Beats

Welcome to this week’s Poetic Beats with Howard Bond and Davy D recorded on the 25th of June 2018 on Red Kite Radio.

Emily Dickinson is considered to be one of the greatest poets to emerge from the USA. It wasn’t until after her death in 1886, when over 1800 of her poems were discovered, that her real genius came to prominence. On this show we read and discuss her poem Summer Showers and look into why she still has an influence in the study and development of poetry.

If you have difficulty listening to this broadcast a text version of the poem is included after the soundbar.

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Summer Shower

A drop fell on the apple tree,

Another on the roof;

A half a dozen kissed the eaves,

And made the gables laugh.

 

A few went out to help the brook,

That went to help the sea.

Myself conjectured, Were they pearls,

What necklaces could be!

 

The dust replaced in hoisted roads,

The birds jocoser sung;

The sunshine threw his hat away,

The orchards spangles hung.

 

The breezes brought dejected lutes,

And bathed them in the glee;

The East put out a single flag,

And signed the fete away.

 

Emily Dickinson.

Violins and Poetry

Poetic Beats

Welcome to this weeks edition of Poetic Beats with Howard Bond and Davy D, recorded on the 11th of September 2017 on Red Kite Radio.

In this edition I read my poem, First Violin, and look at the role of the violin in poetry. Louisa May Alcott referred to the violin as “the most human of all instruments. Emily Dickinson used the violin in her poetry as a metaphor to describe her understanding of the connection between Spirit and Body.

For those of you who can’t access the recording, the text version of First Violin is added after the recording bar.

To hear the recording, please press the arrow on the left of the sound bar below.

 

Poetic Beats will be taking a break for a couple of weeks and will be back on Friday the 6th of October. Have a great weekend.

First Violin

it was a thing of beauty.
your face a picture, as you
opened the case and saw it
for the first time
laid in red silk, fairy lights reflecting
on polished maple,
resin overpowering pine.

we laughed as you battled
with the chinrest, trying to
breathe new life
into aged strings.

we cried at your early renditions
of “cat dragged across a blackboard.”

you persevered.

Sunday mornings
became the Royal Festival Hall.
Mutter, Neveu, Handel
graffiti on your bedroom wall.
until youth’s folly led you away,
the violin put to rest again.

sometimes i still sneak
into your cupboard
opening the case, listening
to the songs you left behind –

amongst disturbed dust.

© Davy D 2017