Tag Archives: Poetry

Autumn Song

Rooted and ringed,
I face the wind
With gnarled limbs and knots


The white of winter comes
Leaden with demise and
Beauty so cruel it is

Such an odd thing
The inability to move
When all around me

To begin again, to believe again
In the sun and distant spring.
A useless dream,
And yet…

It rises in me
Hot against the air so cold
Stretching for the sun’s

Autumn Song by J. Boyce Gleason

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The Road Not Taken

As the new year approaches and the roads of our past and future spread out before us, I thought we should go back to Frost for the last poem of the year.

Special treat! Click on the audio for a recording of Frost reciting his poem and think about “why,” as my good friend Susan Dentzer would ask, “did Frost call the poem ‘The Road Not Taken’ as opposed to ‘The Road Less Traveled?”

Happy New Year!

01 The Road not Taken

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry that I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same

Yet both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet, knowing how way leads onto way,
I doubted that I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

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Tidings of Great Joy

Although not technically considered poetry, there is something very poetic about the following – especially at this time of year.


And there were, in the same country,

Shepherds abiding in the field,

Keeping watch over their flock by night.

And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them,

And the glory of the Lord shone round about them.

And they were sore afraid.

To  watch the best reading of this, click the link below:

 Tidings of Great Joy

And the angel said unto them,

“Fear not. For, behold, I bring you tidings of great joy,

Which shall be to all my people.

“For unto you is born this day in the city of David

A Saviour, which is Christ, the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you:

“Ye shall find the babe

Wrapped in swaddling clothes,

Lying in a manger.”

And suddenly, there was with the angel

A multitude of the Heavenly Host

Praising God, and saying,

“Glory to God in the Highest,

And, on Earth, peace,

And good will toward men.”

Luke 2:4-14 KJV

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Memories of Dartmouth

This Tuesday Poetry Post comes via a holiday greeting from Dartmouth College.  Although a fraternity brother of mine, I don’t know Jack Bolger.  He graduated a lifetime after me and is now serving as a Marine Corps officer.

But the way he speaks about Dartmouth and Hanover hits very close to home:

For what is a college but a transitory way station,an ephemeral experience that can only be had once?

The beauty of this time in our lives is that it is so fleeting and precious,but we don’t usually appreciate it that way.

In carelessness is joy, in ignorance bliss.

I’d like to believe that these will not be the greatest years of my life, and that the best is yet to come, but I don’t know how I could possibly have more fun.

I’ve watched meteors burn across the universe on the golf course, shivering in a blanket with friends.

I’ve basked in the waters of the Connecticut at sunset, and watched the remains of the day bleed out into the treetops.

I’ve gotten lost on the trails along the Connecticut River, wandering deep into the streambeds beneath the whispering pines.

I’ve seen black moose gallop through the snow up north and watched deer walk silent as ghosts across Rip Road late at night.

I’ve started to notice things about you, Dartmouth.

How quiet you are in the early mornings before dawn has painted you with the colors of the day.

How eerie you are on weekday nights during the witching hour, when mist wreathes your streets and magic seems to walk abroad.

How serene the campus seems in the dark of a winter’s afternoon, buildings and grounds all draped in snow, woodsmoke perfuming the sky.

I love how cozy this place feels, all tucked in, safe and sound and warm, even though the wolf-wind maybe be wailing at the doorways, and the snow drifts deep along the road.

By Jack Bolger ’13 first published by The Dartmouth, May 23, 2013

To view the holiday greeting, click here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m7uQp8O6K94&feature=youtu.be

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Poetry in Primetime

I had intended to post something more mainstream in my first “Tuesday Poetry Post” but was surprised to find a slice of poetry in primetime on”The Blacklist”  the other night.  It was delivered quite well by James Spader’s character Reddington :


Have you ever sailed across an ocean

On a sailboat surrounded by sea

With no land in sight –

Without even the possibility of sighting land – for days to come?

To stand at the helm of your destiny?

I want that one more time.

I want to be in the Piazza del campo in Siena

To feel the surge of ten racehorses go thundering by.

I want another meal in Paris at L’Ambroisie at the Place des Vosges.

I want another bottle of wine

And then another.

I want the warmth of a woman and the cool set of sheets,

One more night of jazz at the Vanguard.

I want to stand on summits and smoke Cubans

And feel the sun on my face

For as long as I can.

Walk on the wall again.

Climb the tower.

Ride the river.

Stare at the frescoes.

I want to sit in the garden and read one more good book.

Most of all I want to sleep.

I want to sleep like I slept when I was a boy.

Give me that.

Just one time.

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