Check out the reviews and recommendations from Claudia Emerson’s Creative Writing class. Featuring everything from Yusef Komunyakaa’s Neon Vernacular to Edwin Arnold’s Fear of Death and Other Poems to Nikki Giovanni’s Love Poems. And we can’t forget The Outlaw Bible of American Poetry, and that’s just a few samples. See them all here.
A particular favorite of mine is Serena’s discussion of Hillaire Belloc’s Cautionary Tales for Children. Given the anestheticized and inane children’s books you often come across today, it’s nice to see that in the 19th century the macabre was alive and well. Take a listen to a little poem about “JIM, Who ran away from his Nurse, and was eaten by a Lion.”
Download JIM, Who ran away from his Nurse, and was eaten by a Lion.
Some interesting choices there, including some new to me… thanks!
Speaking of the Outlaw Bible– years back I published some Alan Kaufman work in an online magazine I edited. He was a character in work and email both!
First thing to pop into my head is a poem from a novel read to me in school.
“As I sit under an apple tree,
a birdie sent it’s love to me.
As I wipe it from my eye I say,
‘Boy I’m glad cows can’t fly.'”
Yeah, it seemed a pretty contemporary selection of poetry, which is nice to have access to how others liked it. In fact, I love the idea of the course blog as poetry review/recommendation space—it becomes a resource almost immediately. And Claudia notes that the actual poets love the online press—at least when it is good 🙂
You’re a sick man, and definitely not a poet 😉
For classic lion action, you need Albert and the Lion, as immortalized by Stanley Holloway: http://monologues.co.uk/Albert_and_the_Lion.htm
When we were seven we were made to learn that Jim poem by rote, and any time a teacher came in our class teacher made us recite which at times added up to 8 recitals a day.
out of all the people in that class I’m still in touch with I’m the only one who remembers it. Maybe they all repressed it and pretended they were at Disneyland while I indulged the fantasy of a throatless Jim gurgling as his precious lifeblood dribbled away…
It is a haunting poem, and says a lot about you having committed it to memory. What’s most horrifying about the poem for me is that I am named Jim, and I was a boy once 🙂