Mrs.+Currin's+passion

 -Gwendolyn Brooks **
 * Be yourself. Don't imitate other poets. You are as important as they are.

Introduction to[|Poetry]
[|by Billy Collins] I ask them to take a poem and hold it up to the light like a color slide or press an ear against its hive. I say drop a mouse into a poem and watch him probe his way out, or walk inside the poem’s room and feel the walls for a light switch. I want them to waterski across the surface of a poem waving at the author’s name on the shore. But all they want to do is tie the poem to a chair with rope and torture a confession out of it. They begin beating it with a hose to find out what it really means.

By Billy Collins**
 * Days

Each one is a gift, no doubt. mysteriously placed in your waking hand or set upon your forehead moments before you open your eyes.

Today begins cold and bright, the ground heavy with snow and a thick masonry of ice, the sun glinting off the turrets of clouds.

Through the calm eyes of the window everything is in its place but so precariously this day might be resting somehow

on the one before it, all the days of the past stacked high like an impossible tower of dishes entertainers used to build on stage.

No wonder you find yourself perched on top of a tall ladder hoping to add one more, Just another Wednesday,

you whisper, then holding your breath, place this cup on yesterday's saucer without the slightest clink.



The Times They Are A-Changin'
Come gather 'round people Wherever you roam And admit that the waters Around you have grown And accept it that soon You'll be drenched to the bone. If your time to you Is worth savin' Then you better start swimmin' Or you'll sink like a stone For [|the times they are a-changin'.] Come writers and critics Who prophesize with your pen And keep your eyes wide The chance won't come again And don't speak too soon For the wheel's still in spin And there's no tellin' who That it's namin'. For the loser now Will be later to win For the times they are a-changin'. Come [|senators, congressmen] Please heed the call Don't stand in the doorway Don't block up the hall For he that gets hurt Will be he who has stalled There's a battle outside And it is ragin'. It'll soon shake your windows And rattle your walls For the times they are a-changin'. Come mothers and fathers Throughout the land And don't criticize What you can't understand Your sons and your daughters Are beyond your command Your old road is Rapidly agin'. Please get out of the new one If you can't lend your hand For the times they are a-changin'. The line it is drawn The curse it is cast The slow one now Will later be fast As the present now Will later be past The order is Rapidly fadin'. And the first one now Will later be last For the times they are a-changin'.
 * [|By Bob Dylan]**

 By [|Bruce Springsteen]** Born down in a dead man's town The first kick I took was when I hit the ground You end up like a dog that's been beat too much 'Til you spend half your life just covering up
 * [|Born in the USA]

[chorus:] Born in the U.S.A. Born in the U.S.A. Born in the U.S.A. Born in the U.S.A.

I got in a little hometown jam And so they put a rifle in my hands Sent me off to [|Vietnam] To go and kill [|the yellow man]

[chorus]

Come back home to [|the refinery] Hiring man says "Son if it was up to me" I go down to see the [|V.A. man] He said "Son don't you understand"

[chorus]

I had a buddy at [|Khe Sahn] Fighting off the [|Viet Cong] They're still there, he's all gone He had a little girl in [|Saigon] I got a picture of him in her arms

Down in the shadow of the [|penitentiary] Out by the gas fires of the refinery I'm ten years down the road Nowhere to run, ain't got nowhere to go

I'm a long gone Daddy in the U.S.A. Born in the U.S.A. I'm a cool rocking Daddy in the U.S.A. Born in the U.S.A. // You are the bread and the knife, the crystal goblet and the wine. You are the dew on the morning grass, and the burning wheel of the sun. You are the white apron of the baker and the marsh birds suddenly in flight. // // However, you are not the wind in the orchard, the plums on the counter, or the house of cards. And you are certainly not the pine-scented air. There is no way you are the pine-scented air. // // It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge, maybe even the pigeon on the general’s head, but you are not even close to being the field of cornflowers at dusk. // // And a quick look in the mirror will show that you are neither the boots in the corner nor the boat asleep in its boathouse. // // It might interest you to know, speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world, that I am the sound of rain on the roof. // // I also happen to be the shooting star, the evening paper blowing down an alley, and the basket of chestnuts on the table. // // I am also the moon in the trees and the blind woman’s teacup. But don’t worry, I am not the bread and the knife. You are still the bread and the knife. You will always be the bread and the knife, not to mention the crystal goblet and -somehow- the wine. // // ~Billy Collins~ Nine Horses //
 * Litany by Billy Collins**

Imagine there's no Heaven It's easy if you try No hell below us Above us only sky Imagine all the people Living for today
 * [|Imagine] By [|John Lennon]**

Imagine there's no countries It isn't hard to do Nothing to kill or die for And no religion too Imagine all the people Living life in peace

You may say that I'm a dreamer But I'm not the only one I hope someday you'll join us And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions I wonder if you can No need for greed or hunger A brotherhood of man Imagine all the people Sharing all the world

You may say that I'm a dreamer But I'm not the only one I hope someday you'll join us And the world will live as one