Poetry
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Ahhh its Christmas time, and on the radio are all of those millions of carols sung by so many different artists. We said before that poetry and music are closely related so maybe its time to take a little closer look at this relationship. Recently I discovered that one of Barbara Bush’s favorite songs is “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” Mrs. Bush first heard the song during her honeymoon in New York. That could explain why it is so special to her. In deference to her status as one of my idols, we will use that as one of the Christmas carols we look at as we explore music and poetry.
I invite you to come along as we take a sleigh ride through the annals of Writing.Com looking for poetry and to see if we can discern how it relates to music. Along with that, we will seek professional opinion on the subject, and I will provide you with this week’s list of favorite poets. In closing I will answer the feedback from the last edition, listing the winners of the gift points.Becky Simpson
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Why would we say music and poetry are related? Ever heard of meter? I’m sure you have since it is almost always noted when reviewing, and a few months ago I gave you a poem to remember the different poetic types. The word meter comes from the word metronome, which is a device to measure beats within a definite time frame. It is used to set the tempo for a piece of music. How about rhythm, ever been told you have no rhythm as you tried to dance? Maybe you know a musician who has commented on the rhythm of a certain piece of music. Rhythm and meter are closely related as the dictionary definition of meter is: rhythm as given by division into parts of equal time. Classic poetry has both as does any musical creation. Let’s take a quick look at Mrs. Bush’s favorite Christmas carol as a poem:
Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Let your heart be light
From now on,
our troubles will be out of sight
Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Make the Yule-tide gay,
From now on,
our troubles will be miles away.
Here we are as in olden days,
Happy golden days of yore.
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more.
Through the years
We all will be together,
If the Fates allow
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough.
And have yourself A merry little Christmas now.
The heart warming Christmas song Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas was immortalized by Judy Garland when she sang this song to Margaret O'Brien and brought tears to the eyes of the audience. The lyricist for Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas was Ralph Blane, and the haunting music was composed by Hugh Martin. The song Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas was first published in 1943. The title of Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas is undoubtedly one of the saddest Christmas songs of the century.
I bet you could hear the music as you read the poem couldn’t you? They are almost inseparable. That brings us to or next subject. Did you notice that little blurb about how the song touched the hearts of many Americans and brought tears to their eyes? This is the job of both music and poetry: to bring some sort of emotion to the reader or listener; to touch their hearts with the words the poet has written. Ever listened to a song and suddenly realized you were crying. Music and poetry should and do have the same power over our emotions. They give us the ability to connect with others and share our emotions and feelings in a direct manner heart to heart.
Here is an example of a poem from a Writing.Com poet.
piewhackett1
""My Christmas Gift" Revised"
"My Christmas Gift" Revised
What gift can I give You
Emmanuel?
That would compare
with my freedom from hell?
When I was confused
You set my mind at ease
How do I show my gratitude
for this incomprehensible peace?
You"ve guarded and directed me
throughout each year
Every time I've had a problem
You lent me an ear
My piggy bank is broken
so there's not much for a gift
even if I had an inkling
what to honor You with
You have no needs for watches,
ties,or gold cuff links
You have no need for cologne
or a Christmas card that sings
My gift it must be greater
than all that Wal-Mart holds
Nothing cheap or tacky,
or too easy to bestow
There must be something worthy...
Something You would like?
I've searched through all I have
But nothing seems quite right
Perhaps above all other gifts
none could be better
than to offer my heart to You
now and forever
So I offer my love
on Your star-lit birthday
Accept it dear Jesus
I humbly pray
By: Kings
Let me pick at your heart for a minute. What did you feel as you read this work? Did it touch you? The difference here between those who are touched and those who are not might very well boil down to your belief in Jesus, God, and the purpose man has attached to Christmas. Would you be surprised if I told you Jesus was not born on December 25th? The date selected by man coincided with a pagan festival celebrating the earth’s renewal. It included the use of fir trees. Jesus was most likely born during the first few months of the year. Possibly, April since the shepherds were in the fields during that time frame.
Now, let’s look for something that will make us smile.
anticipation
"beautiful masterpiece"
Sparkling are the Christmas lights,
In the frosty air the carols sound,
Stars twinkle brightly on cloudless nights
The magic that's Christmas is all around.
Children run out excitedly to see
The first snowflakes when they fall;
Each stares in wonder at the laden tree
Lit up in their home's darkened hall.
The presents we are gaily wrapping,
Cards come daily from our friends,
Into rhythms of Christmas we're tapping,
Praying that the goodwill never ends.
Then it's Christmas Eve once more we find
That we remember stories of a bright star,
The Nativity scenes are there to remind,
Of shepherds and kings that came from afar.
On whatever religion we may be relying
Let's use this happy time, evil to defeat,
For most of us there's really no denying
The poetry of Christmas has a powerful beat.
This is a very upbeat, and in the words of the poet, builds from a slow start to a crescendo of interlocking feelings and flashes of the Christmas season. Yet, poetry is not about always feeling good. Our next poet from Writing.Com easily defeats the feel good aspects of Christmas to show you the darker side of Christmas in the projects.
sultry
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Dear Santa,
I made you this Christmas card.
In hopes you’d remember me.
I’m the one who tried so hard,
To be as good as I could be.
I kept good thoughts when Daddy was mad,
And hit me with his leather belt.
(Please don’t think that I was bad,
It was the beer that made Daddy's anger felt.)
Then there is my little brother,
But you see he’s only three,
He didn’t mean to break that vase.
I cried when he got spanked over momma’s knee.
He really is a good little boy,
So, please give him a Tonka Truck.
I want him to have at least one toy.
(This one might not be taken from him with any luck.)
Give my momma a new black purse,
Her other one got stolen away.
And can you give her back all the money,
That bad man took that day?
And can you help my daddy?
He really needs a job.
It scares me when he talks about,
The bank he is going to rob.
And all I want for me, dear Santa
Is to see my family smile,
On Christmas Day morning,
Even if for only a little while.
I’ve left you some milk and cookies,
Over by the Christmas tree.
And, by the way dear Santa,
Merry Christmas from my brother and me.
Author's Note: For a little post script on this poem please read "So This is Christmas?" Thanks! Val
If this work touched you and made you sad then the poet has accomplished her goal; she has taken you out of your comfortable world and pushed you into hers. Okay one last poem that became a song.
Twas the Night before Christmas Poem
Make it Snow !
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
Clement Clarke Moore (1779 - 1863) wrote the poem Twas the night before Christmas also called “A Visit from St. Nicholas" in 1822. It is now the tradition in many American families to read the poem every Christmas Eve. The poem has redefined our image of Christmas and Santa Claus. Prior to the creation of the story, St. Nicholas, the patron saint of children, had never been associated with a sleigh or reindeers. The author of the poem was a reticent man, and it is believed that a family friend, Miss H. Butler, sent a copy of the poem to the New York Sentinel, who published the poem. The condition of publication was that the author was to remain anonymous. The first publication date was 23rd December, 1823, and it was an immediate success. Clement Clarke Moore didn't claim ownership until 1844, when the work was included in a book of his poetry. (Clement Clarke Moore came from a prominent family and his father Benjamin Moore was the Bishop of New York who was famous for officiating at the inauguration of George Washington.) The tradition of reading "Twas the night before Christmas" poem on Christmas Eve is now a worldwide institution.
This poem has been made into a song, a cartoon and any number of other mediums of communication. As indicated above, it is now a worldwide institution. Here is my final take on poetry and music.
As poetry revitalizes language, it changes our relationship to reality. Stanley Kunitz has said it is poetry's job not only to undo clichés of language, but also to undo clichés of thought and feeling. Poetry at its best shatters our patterns of preconception, bringing us into a direct, intimate, naked experience. Poetry speaks heart to heart and challenges the mind on the way.
Music has always been a powerful ignition of inner movement. Stirred on a tide of notes that surge the feeling heart, humans have joined in passion towards all manner of wonderful and horrifying creation. The power of the word carried on a sea of music has surely moved our species since the first grunts brought language into existence.
To unite poetry with music is to open a window into the human consciousness. Both speak to direct experience beneath the conscious levels of the mind. Both can bring forth the deepest mysteries about living and dying. When the words and the music emerge from and carry us toward the source of the heart's truth, great healing and awakening will occur.
That finishes another newsletter. I hope you have discovered something you can use in your own poetry and perhaps opened your mind to yet another facet of poetry. Next week I will be sending out another edition, and I hope to back track and look once again at a specific type of poetry. Until then keep writing and find yourself a musician. They may be able to make suggestions to help your work.
Tip of the Day: Poetry is from your heart and isn’t about touching everybody else’s heart; it’s about touching somebody’s heart.
I am always at your service.
Becky L Simpson
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The following members of Writing.Com are some of my favorite poets on Writing.Com. They exhibit and understanding and skill that, simply put, amaze me. I hope those I have forgotten will forgive me, but as time goes on and my memory prods, me this list will change.
Vivian
reblackwell
Stormy Lady
Ann Ticipation
Tornado Day
wittyvixen
daycare
SUGGESTED READINGS:
I call these poets and poems works of the week. Some will be by cases of all colors, as skill is not determined by your case color. Just five or six poems I think you might enjoy.
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CONTESTS:
The challenge for this edition is: Simply share with me a poem that is about Christmas, send the link to me, and remember there are 1,000 points for the first twenty readers to respond.
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