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Podcast: Pod Clods' Podcast
Episode:

PodClods National Poetry Day Podcast
Category: Education
Duration: 00:11:26
Publish Date: 2009-10-05 16:10:42
Description: itunes pic
National Poetry Day is on Thursday October 8th. We will be celebrating it a week later, on the 15th, because there is so much going on at the moment. It was thrown together on a Friday afternoon, as it says in the intro. The students had selected poems themselves previously. We had a couple of interviewers and tried to get through as many poems as we could in the time. We only had half an hour, unfortunately, because of planning for this week, and the fire drill, and ...anyway, these are the poems: Quite A Hero Anonymous My Hero is the quiet type, No marching bands, no media hype, But through my eyes it's plain to see, A hero, God has sent to me. With gentle strength and quiet pride, All self concern is set aside, To reach out to our fellow man, And be there with a helping hand. Heroes are a rarity, A blessing to humanity. With all they give and all they do, I'll bet the thing you never knew, My quiet hero has always been you. http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoem.do?poemId=394 Hair- raiser by Judith Nicholls. JUST A SIMPLE SOLDIER JUST A SIMPLE SOLDIER He was getting old and paunchy and his hair was falling fast, and he sat around the Legion, Telling stories of the past. Of a war that he had fought in and the deeds that he had done. In his exploits with his buddies; they were heroes, everyone. And 'tho sometimes, to his neighbors, His tales became a joke, all his buddies listened, for they knew whereof he spoke. But we'll hear his tales no longer, for ol' Bob has passed away, and the world's a little poorer, for a soldier died today. He won't be mourned by many, just his children and his wife. For he lived an ordinary, Very quiet sort of life. He held a job and raised a family, quietly going on his way; and the world won't note his passing; 'tho a Soldier died today. When politicians leave this earth, their bodies lie in state, while thousands note their passing, and proclaim that they were great. Papers tell of their life stories, from the time that they were young, But the passing of a soldier, Goes unnoticed, and unsung. Is the greatest contribution, to the welfare of our land, some jerk that breaks his promise, and cons his fellow man? Or the ordinary fellow, who in times of war and strife, Goes off to serve his Country And offers up his life? The politician's stipend And the style in which he lives, Are sometimes disproportionate, to the service he gives. While the ordinary soldier, who offered up his all, is paid off with a medal and perhaps a pension, small. It's so easy to forget them, for it is so long ago, that our Bob's and Jim's and Johnny's, Went to battle, but we know. It was not the politicians, with their compromise and ploys, who won for us the freedom, that our Country now enjoys. Should you find yourself in danger, with your enemies at hand, would you really want some cop-out, with his ever waffling stand? Or would you want a Soldier, Who has sworn to defend, His home, his kin, and Country, and would fight until the end? He was just a common Soldier and his ranks are growing thin, but his presence should remind us, we may need his like again. For when countries are in conflict, Then we find the Soldier's part, is to clean up all the troubles, that the politicians start. If we cannot do him honor, While he's here to hear the praise, then at least let's give him homage, at the ending of his days. Perhaps just a simple headline, in the paper that might say: "OUR COUNTRY IS IN MOURNING, FOR A SOLDIER DIED TODAY." Super Mom Mom, you're a wonderful mother, So gentle, yet so strong. The many ways you show you care Always make me feel I belong. You're patient when I'm foolish; You give guidance when I ask; It seems you can do most anything; You're the master of every task. You're a dependable source of comfort; You're my cushion when I fall. You help in times of trouble; You support me whenever I call. I love you more than you know; You have my total respect. If I had my choice of mothers, You'd be the one I'd select! By Joanna Fuchs BRUCE AND THE SPIDER by: Bernard Barton (1784-1849) OR Scotland's and for freedom's right The Bruce his part has played;-- In five successive fields of fight Been conquered and dismayed: Once more against the English host His band he led, and once more lost The meed for which he fought; And now from battle, faint and worn, The homeless fugitive, forlorn, A hut's lone shelter sought. And cheerless was that resting-place For him who claimed a throne;-- His canopy, devoid of grace, The rude, rough beams alone; The heather couch his only bed-- Yet well I ween had slumber fled From couch of eider down! Through darksome night till dawn of day, Absorbed in wakeful thought he lay Of Scotland and her crown. The sun rose brightly, and its gleam Fell on that hapless bed, And tinged with light each shapeless beam Which roofed the lowly shed; When, looking up with wistful eye, The Bruce beheld a spider try His filmy thread to fling From beam to beam of that rude cot-- And well the insect's toilsome lot Taught Scotland's future king. Six times the gossamery thread The wary spider threw;-- In vain the filmy line was sped, For powerless or untrue Each aim appeared, and back recoiled The patient insect, six times foiled, And yet unconquered still; And soon the Bruce, with eager eye, Saw him prepare once more to try His courage, strength, and skill. One effort more, his seventh and last!-- The hero hailed the sign!-- And on the wished-for beam hung fast That slender silken line! Slight as it was, his spirit caught The more than omen; for his thought The lesson well could trace, Which even "he who runs may read," That Perseverance gains its meed, And Patience wins the race. "Bruce and the Spider" is reprinted from Historic Ballads and Poems. Ed. Rupert S. Holland. Philadelphia: George W. Jacobs & Co., 1912. Thanks for listening!
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