Poems. "Song" by Adrienne Rich

Welcome to the TP Podcast!

Adrienne Rich wrote "On Secrets, Lies & Silence", a collection of essays of great interest from a feminist point of view. It's been translated into Spanish, too. But today we are going to learn about one of her poems, "Song", about a different kind of loneliness people can feel. Enjoy!

Listen to this poem!
Read it here!

Poems. "This Is Just to Say" by William Carlos Williams

Welcome to the TP podcast!
I love this poem. It’s so mysterious, and so honest. I don’t know what it means. I just know it means something mysterious and daily and beautiful, plus totally human.
Picture it as a post-it note on a fridge.
Hope you enjoy it!

Listen to the poem.

This Is Just To Say (1934)
by William Carlos Williams

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

Copyright © 1962 by William Carlos Williams. Used with permission of New Directions Publishing Corporation. All rights reserved. No part of this poem may be reproduced in any form without the written consent of the publisher. (Thanks, New Directions!)

More on this autor at Poets.org

Poems. "The Housing Poem" by Dian Million

Listen to the poem.
Comment the poem at the Dakota in Spain blog.
Read about its author on the TP webpage for Dian Million.

Read here the poem:

The Housing Poem
by Dian Million

Minnie had a house
which had trees in the yard
and lots of flowers

she especially liked the kitchen

because it had a large old cast iron stove
and that
the landlord said was the reason
the house was so cheap.

Pretty soon Minnie's brother Rupert came along
and his wife Onna
and they set up housekeeping in the living room
on the fold-out couch,
so the house warmed and rocked
and sang because Minnie and Rupert laughed a lot.

Pretty soon their mom Elsie came to live with them too
because she liked being with the laughing young people
and she knew how the stove worked the best.
Minnie gave up her bed and slept on a cot.

Well pretty soon
Dar and Shar their cousins came to town looking for work.
They were twins
the pride of Elsie's sister Jo
and boy could those girls sing. They pitched a tent under
the cedar patch in the yard
and could be heard singing around the house
mixtures of old Indian tunes and country western.

When it was winter
Elsie worried
about her mother Sarah
who was still living by herself in Moose Glen back home.
Elsie went in the car with Dar and Shar and Minnie and Rupert and got her.
They all missed her anyway and her funny stories.
She didn't have any teeth
so she dipped all chewable items in grease
which is how they're tasty she said.
She sat in a chair in front of the stove usually
or would cook up a big pot of something for the others.

By and by Rupert and Onna had a baby who they named Lester,
or nicknamed Bumper, and they were glad that Elsie and Sarah
were there to help.

One night the landlord came by
to fix the leak in the bathroom pipe
and was surprised to find Minnie, Rupert and Onna, Sarah and Elsie, Shar and Dar all singing around the drum next
to the big stove in the kitchen
and even a baby named Lester who smiled waving a big greasy piece of dried fish.

He was disturbed
he went to court to evict them
he said the house was designed for single-family occupancy
which surprised the family
because that's what they thought they were.

Poems. "Her Kind" by Anne Sexton

Her Kind
By Anne Sexton

Listen to this poem

I have gone out, a possessed witch,
haunting the black air, braver at night;
dreaming evil, I have done my hitch
over the plain houses, light by light:
lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.
A woman like that is not a woman, quite.
I have been her kind.

I have found the warm caves in the woods,
filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves,
closets, silks, innumerable goods;
fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves:
whining, rearranging the disaligned.
A woman like that is misunderstood.
I have been her kind.

I have ridden in your cart, driver,
waved my nude arms at villages going by,
learning the last bright routes, survivor
where your flames still bite my thigh
and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.
A woman like that is not ashamed to die.
I have been her kind.

The TP webpage on Anne Sexton

Poems. "Brief bus stop" by Ani Difranco

Listen to the poem or lyrics of this song (which I've never heard!), from her album “not so soft” (1991).

brief bus stop
by ani difranco

Read the lyrics here

Language notes: “to wane” is something the moon does, because the moon waxes and wanes! “To toe the line” is ‘to conform to a rule or standard’.

More on Ani Difranco at the Talking People Website (Music)

Poems. "Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver

Welcome to the Talking People Podcast, an experimental project of talkingpeople.net. We're reaching the 50 subscriptions so thanks for that! We're happy to be of use!

Listen to the second poem we wanted to read, "Wild Geese", by Mary Oliver, from her book "Dreawork". Hope you enjoy it!

Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

If you love literature, you are welcome to visit the Literature section at Talking People.If you have comments on the audio quality of the TP episodes, please post under each episode. Thanks so much!

Poems. "A Litany for Survival" by Audre Lorde

A Litany for Survival
by Audre Lorde (from The Black Unicorn)

Listen here.

For those of us who live at the shoreline
standing upon the constant edges of decision
crucial and alone
for those of us who cannot indulge
the passing dreams of choice
who love in doorways coming and going
in the hours between dawns
looking inward and outward
at once before and after
seeking a now that can breed
futures
like bread in our children's mouths
so their dreams will not reflect
the death of ours:

For those of us
who were imprinted with fear
like a faint line in the center of our foreheads
learning to be afraid with our mother's milk
for by this weapon
this illusion of some safety to be found
the heavy-footed hoped to silence us
For all of us
this instant and this triumph
We were never meant to survive.

And when the sun rises we are afraid
it might not remain
when the sun sets we are afraid
it might not rise in the morning
when our stomachs are full we are afraid
of indigestion
when our stomachs are empty we are afraid
we may never eat again
when we are loved we are afraid
love will vanish
when we are alone we are afraid
love will never return
and when we speak
we are afraid our words will not be heard
nor welcomed
but when we are silent
we are still afraid

So it is better to speak
remembering
we were never meant to survive

More on Audre Lorde at our Talking People website, in the Literature section.

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