>> No longer at Slate, the former US Poet Laureate has a new site for discussing poetry, joining the ranks of the WordPress many (link). The current discussion centers around parallels between Edgar Allen Poe’s “Fairy-land” and (potw.org favorite) Elizabeth Bishop’s “The Man Moth”. The comments are robust and engaging. The site is certainly worth bookmarking and visiting regularly.
>> The website Rap Genius crowdsources rap annotations, allowing users to login and supplement the text for lyrics to a range of songs. It has expanded to include close cousins “rock” and poetry. Here’s a link to Shakespeare’s 18th sonnet. Annotations range from “translating” to providing greater historical context to linking to YouTube videos. It is the Internet, after all (note the phrase, “Sometime too hot” links to this video “Attack of the Sun“).
>> Going in the opposite direction is this piece from the NY Times from 2011 that worries, “Will the E-Book Kill the Footnote?“. I personally (and happily) suspect the footnote to be a hardy soul. And we haven’t seen the final iteration of the e-reader. In the meantime, sites like Grantland are keeping footnotes alive and well on the web.
Wednesday Thursday is back! Just in time for October. No promise that the links below will be timely or relevant.
>>Twitter seems to be a font of found poetry. @pentamatron joins in by creating rhymed iambic pentameter couplets out of random tweets. Here’s a delightful example:
>>Ever wonder what artifacts and furniture Emily Dickinson might have owned? You can even admire a brooch she owned that Flavorwire so drolly notes she might have worn “For dressing up to go downstairs.”
>>The only known recording of Walt Whitman has been made available on the Internet. There is a debate about its authenticity (it admittedly does sound crisper than this recording of Tennyson from the same time period). You can hear the audio here.
O were my Love yon Lilack fair,
Wi’ purple blossoms to the Spring;
And I, a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing.
How I wad mourn, when it was torn
By Autumn wild, and Winter rude!
But I was sing on wanton wing,
When youthfu’ May its bloom renew’d.
[O gin my love were yon red rose,
That grows upon the castle wa'!
And I mysel' a drap o' dew,
Into her bonnie breast to fa'!
Oh, there beyond expression blesst
I'd feast on beauty a' the night;
Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
Till fley'd awa by Phebus' light!]