AOM TV POETRY ALOUD: Walt Whitman "Song of the Open Road"

 Walt Whitman

"Song of the Open Road" 

Read by Dave Luukkonen

Music by Tony Anderson

YouTube Direct Link: https://youtu.be/bCgbc_RcKF8

AOM TV: "To a Stranger" by Walt Whitman

POETRY READ ALOUD

"To a Stranger" 

by Walt Whitman

YouTube Direct Link: https://youtu.be/UusqyCliKBI

~*~

 

AOM TV: Walt Whitman "Animals" Recited by Jim Clark

Walt Whitman 

"Animals" 

Poem animation

recited by

Jim Clark

YouTube Direct Link: https://youtu.be/cnIyJW3GSJ4

Walt Whitman

from Leaves of Grass

“I think I could turn and live with animals, 

they are so placid and self-contain’d, 

I stand and look at them long and long.

They do not sweat and whine about their condition, 

They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, 

They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, 

Not one is dissatisfied, 

not one is demented with the mania of owning things, 

Not one kneels to another, 

nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago, 

Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.

So they show their relations to me and I accept them,

They bring me tokens of myself, 

they evince them plainly in their possession.

I wonder where they get those tokens,

Did I pass that way huge times ago 

and negligently drop them?"

Walt Whitman: "Twenty-eight young men bathe by the shore"

Uncle Walt Whitman

Song of Myself: Section 11

Music: 

Concerto for Bass Tuba and Orchestra in F Minor, 

IRV. 92: II. Romanza 

by 

Vaughan Williams

conducted by

André Previn

YouTube Direct Link: https://youtu.be/edmZLBeNAIY

Twenty-eight young men bathe by the shore,

Twenty-eight young men and all so friendly;

Twenty-eight years of womanly life and all so lonesome.

She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank,

She hides handsome and richly drest 

aft the blinds of the window.

Which of the young men does she like the best?

Ah the homeliest of them is beautiful to her.

Where are you off to, lady? for I see you,

You splash in the water there, 

yet stay stock still in your room.

Dancing and laughing along the beach 

came the twenty-ninth bather,

The rest did not see her, 

but she saw them and loved them.

The beards of the young men glisten'd with wet, 

it ran from their long hair,

Little streams pass'd all over their bodies.

An unseen hand also pass'd over their bodies,

It descended tremblingly from their temples and ribs.

The young men float on their backs, 

their white bellies bulge to the sun, 

they do not ask who seizes fast to them,

They do not know who puffs and declines 

with pendant and bending arch,

They do not think whom they souse with spray.

~*~

AOM Meditations: 070320

by Nude-Soul Photography

~*~

A Sun-Bath–Nakedness

A Sun-Bath–Nakedness
(Full Version)

Sunday, Aug. 27.—ANOTHER day quite free from mark’d prostration and pain. It seems indeed as if peace and nutriment from heaven subtly filter into me as I slowly hobble down these country lanes and across fields, in the good air—as I sit here in solitude with Nature—open, voiceless, mystic, far removed, yet palpable, eloquent Nature. I merge myself in the scene, in the perfect day. Hovering over the clear brook-water, I am sooth’d by its soft gurgle in one place, and the hoarser murmurs of its three-foot fall in another. Come, ye disconsolate, in whom any latent eligibility is left—come get the sure virtues of creek-shore, and wood and field. Two months (July and August, ’77,) have I absorb’d them, and they begin to make a new man of me. Every day, seclusion—every day at least two or three hours of freedom, bathing, no talk, no bonds, no dress, no books, no manners.

  Shall I tell you, reader, to what I attribute my already much-restored health? That I have been almost two years, off and on, without drugs and medicines, and daily in the open air. Last summer I found a particularly secluded little dell off one side by my creek, originally a large dug-out marl-pit, now abandon’d, fill’d with bushes, trees, grass, a group of willows, a straggling bank, and a spring of delicious water running right through the middle of it, with two or three little cascades. Here I retreated every hot day, and follow it up this summer. Here I realize the meaning of that old fellow who said he was seldom less alone than when alone. Never before did I get so close to Nature; never before did she come so close to me. By old habit, I pencill’d down from to time to time, almost automatically, moods, sights, hours, tints and outlines, on the spot. Let me specially record the satisfaction of this current forenoon, so serene and primitive, so conventionally exceptional, natural.

  An hour or so after breakfast I wended my way down to the recesses of the aforesaid dell, which I and certain thrushes, catbirds, &c., had all to ourselves. A light south-west wind was blowing through the tree-tops. It was just the place and time for my Adamic air-bath and flesh-brushing from head to foot. So hanging clothes on a rail near by, keeping old broadbrim straw on head and easy shoes on feet, haven't I had a good time the last two hours! First with the stiff-elastic bristles rasping arms, breast, sides, till they turn’d scarlet—then partially bathing in the clear waters of the running brook—taking everything very leisurely, with many rests and pauses—stepping about barefooted every few minutes now and then in some neighboring black ooze, for unctuous mud-bath to my feet—a brief second and third rinsing in the crystal running waters—rubbing with the fragrant towel—slow negligent promenades on the turf up and down in the sun, varied with occasional rests, and further frictions of the bristle-brush—sometimes carrying my portable chair with me from place to place, as my range is quite extensive here, nearly a hundred rods, feeling quite secure from intrusion, (and that indeed I am not at all nervous about, if it accidentally happens.)

  As I walk’d slowly over the grass, the sun shone out enough to show the shadow moving with me. Somehow I seem’d to get identity with each and every thing around me, in its condition Nature was naked, and I was also. It was too lazy, soothing, and joyous-equable to speculate about. Yet I might have thought somehow in this vein: Perhaps the inner never lost rapport we hold with earth, light, air, trees, &c., is not to be realized through eyes and mind only, but through the whole corporeal body, which I will not have blinded or bandaged any more than the eyes. Sweet, sane, still Nakedness in Nature!—ah if poor, sick, prurient humanity in cities might really know you once more! Is not nakedness then indecent? No, not inherently. It is your thought, your sophistication, your fear, your respectability, that is indecent. There come moods when these clothes of ours are not only too irksome to wear, but are themselves indecent. Perhaps indeed he or she to whom the free exhilarating ecstasy of nakedness in Nature has never been eligible (and how many thousands there are!) has not really known what purity is—nor what faith or art or health really is. (Probably the whole curriculum of first-class philosophy, beauty, heroism, form, illustrated by the old Hellenic race—the highest height and deepest depth known to civilization in those departments—came from their natural and religious idea of Nakedness.)

Many such hours, from time to time, the last two summers—I attribute my partial rehabilitation largely to them. Some good people may think it a feeble or half-crack’d way of spending one’s time and thinking. May-be it is.

RECAP

"Never before did I get so close to Nature; never before did she come so close to me… Nature was naked, and I was also… Sweet, sane, still Nakedness in Nature! - ah if poor, sick, prurient humanity in cities might really know you once more! Is not nakedness indecent? No, not inherently. It is your thought, your sophistication, your fear, your respectability, that is indecent. There come moods when these clothes of ours are not only too irksome to wear, but are themselves indecent.

Perhaps indeed he or she to whom the free exhilarating ecstasy of nakedness in Nature has never been eligible (and how many thousands there are!) has not really known what purity is—nor what faith or art or health really is. (Probably the whole curriculum of first-class philosophy, beauty, heroism, form, illustrated by the old Hellenic race—the highest height and deepest depth known to civilization in those departments—came from their natural and religious idea of Nakedness."

~Walt Whitman

(“A Sun-Bath–Nakedness” in “Specimen Days”)

 by Nude-Soul Photography

AOM Meditations: 032420

by Franklin Carmichael

Thanks to our Friend, David, for sending us this beautiful art

~*~

“I exist as I am, that is enough,

If no other in the world be aware I sit content,

And if each and all be aware I sit content.

One world is aware, and by the far the largest to me, and that is myself,

And whether I come to my own today 
or in ten thousand or ten million years,

I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness, I can wait.”

~Walt Whitman

~*~

“Re-examine all you have been told in school or church or in any book, and dismiss whatever insults your own soul; and your very flesh shall be a great poem, and have the richest fluency, not only in its words, but in the silent lines of its lips and face, and between the lashes of your eyes, and in every motion and joint of your body.”

~Walt Whitman

Amen, Uncle Walt!

AOM Meditations: 012420

by Emile Friant

Thanks to our Friend, David, for sending us this beautiful art

(and quote)

~*~

AOM Meditations: 012320

~*~

When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer

BY Walt Whitman

"When I heard the learn’d astronomer, 

When the proofs, the figures, 

were ranged in columns before me, 

When I was shown the charts and diagrams, 

to add, divide, and measure them, 

When I sitting heard the astronomer 

where he lectured with 

much applause in the lecture-room, 

How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick, 

Till rising and gliding out 

I wander’d off by myself, 

In the mystical moist night-air, 

and from time to time, 

Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars."

~*~

We can memorize, quantify, and diagram Nature all we want

Scientifically study it up and down to the smallest detail

But to truly understand the nature of Nature

We must "wander off" and experience it for ourselves

What Uncle Walt calls a mystical, intuitive experience

His poem is a great statement

Illustrating the different between Knowledge and Wisdom

A good lesson for living, as well.

Thanks, Uncle Walt!

When I Heard at the Close of the Day by Walt Whitman: Illustrated

I wanted to experience more of the Love Walt Whitman had for his "my dear friend my lover". When I take my time and soak in his words, I feel so deeply moved by the love and affection he had for his friend and lover. I was discussing Whitman with a friend I've made through AOM the other day. In our chat, we talked about the poem I used in my homage to Whitman. (link) My Friend described so beautifully the affect and influence Whitman has had on us. Here is what he said:

"It is amazing to me what the human body can do. Yes, the wrestlers, the firemen, the farmers, the lifeguards, on and on in so many ways, perform their tasks each day without much fanfare. The mind inside that human frame continues to develop unbelievable solutions to all types of challenges. And most importantly, the soul connects us to one another as brothers and sisters of humanity.

Somehow Uncle Walt brings it all into focus. He wants us to celebrate our humanness. And I also think he wants us to practice the very best we can do to alleviate suffering of any kind."

~Quote from a Friend

Today I am using another poem by Whitman to illustrate. In this poem, Whitman talks about all the good and satisfying things in his life. He mentions his fame and acclaim, his partying, his success, his excellent health, his ecstatic communion with nature but they all pale in comparison with the ecstasy of being with his friend and lover.

plaudits = applause, accolades

~*~

When I Heard at the Close of the Day

by Walt Whitman

"When I heard at the close of the day how my name had been receiv’d with plaudits in the capitol, still it was not a happy night for me that follow’d, 

And else when I carous’d, or when my plans were accomplish’d, still I was not happy, 

But the day when I rose at dawn from the bed of perfect health, refresh’d, singing, inhaling the ripe breath of autumn, 

When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and disappear in the morning light, 

When I wander’d alone over the beach, and undressing bathed, laughing with the cool waters, and saw the sun rise, 

And when I thought how my dear friend my lover was on his way coming, O then I was happy, 

O then each breath tasted sweeter, and all that day my food nourish’d me more, and the beautiful day pass’d well, 

And the next came with equal joy, and with the next at evening came my friend, 

And that night while all was still I heard the waters roll slowly continually up the shores, 

I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands as directed to me whispering to congratulate me, 

For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same cover in the cool night, 

In the stillness in the autumn moonbeams his face was inclined toward me, 

And his arm lay lightly around my breast – and that night I was happy." 

Happy 200th Birthday to Uncle Walt Whitman!!!

WALT WHITMAN

May 31, 1819 – March 26, 1892

Authentic, Glorious, Ecstatic, Spacious

A Lover of all Humanity, A True Human Being

Namaste Sweetie,

Happy Phriday!!!

And

HAPPY 200th BIRTHDAY UNCLE WALT!

Today is all about this amazing human being
I found a very good documentary on YouTube
About the Life and Work of Walt Whitman 
Here's the (LINK)
   

Everyone Everywhere 

Needs to get to know 

Walt Whitman

For he was every man, woman and child

He was you and he was me

He was not a poet sitting in his ivory tower

Dispensing pretty little rhymes and meter

He was of the mud and of the stars

Earthy Raw and Divine Ecstasy

Born two hundred years old-

He still speaks to us as one of us

A fellow pilgrim traveling through the universe

Speaking directly to you and me as Teacher and Friend

Do not miss out on one of Life's Treasures

Get to know him

He will guide you to

Enlighten your mind

Free your spirit

Open your heart

Knowing him can vastly enrich your life

One of his Friends was the painter

Thomas Eakins

Here is a portrait painted by him of WW

Walt Whitman by Thomas Eakins

~*~

Boy, did I pull a huge boner last night

And NO! Not the good kind

It took me HOURS to put today's main post together

I worked and worked so diligently 

As I clicked publish

I realized that I had posted it to The Good Stuff

And not to AOM MD

SO

I tried to import just the one post

I think you can do it but....

I wound up importing all the posts

from The Good Stuff to Here

There are only about 20 days of posts

So it just filled in the days I didn't post here

But It was a comedy of errors

Winding up with spaghetti all over my head

:  )

I guess it will be all right

I do hope you will enjoy your visit

and if you have not done so,

I hope that you will get to know Whitman

Alan Ginsberg said of Whitman:

"He was

in some respects.

 The precursor of Gay Liberation"

I would take that further

And suggest

Whitman is still today a huge influence on

The Liberation of All Humanity

I wish you a most Wonderful Walt Whitman Day!

Peace and Love,

AOM

Poems of Walt Whitman

Walt Whitman

36.

EARTH! my likeness!

Though you look so impassive, ample and spheric 

there,

I now suspect that is not all;

I now suspect there is something fierce in you, eligible 

to burst forth;

For an athlete is enamoured of me—and I of him,

But toward him there is something fierce and terrible 

in me, eligible to burst forth,

I dare not tell it in words—not even in these songs.

~*~

A Glimpse

BY WALT WHITMAN

A glimpse through an interstice caught, 

Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room around the stove late of a winter night, and I unremark’d seated in a corner, 

Of a youth who loves me and whom I love, silently approaching and seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand, 

A long while amid the noises of coming and going, of drinking and oath and smutty jest, 

There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little, perhaps not a word. 

~*~

O Me! O Life!

Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,

Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish,

Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)

Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,

Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,

Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,

The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

                                       Answer.

That you are here—that life exists and identity,

That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

~*~

"What will your verse be?" 

Robin Williams Apple iPad Air Commercial

YouTube Direct Link: https://youtu.be/Ep2_0WHogRQ

Walt Whitman's "I Sing the Body Electric" Illustrated by AOM

Walt Whitman

To honor this Great Man on his 200th birthday

AOM pays homage by illustrating this section from:

I Sing the Body Electric

by Walt Whitman

Album: Leaves of Grass

(note: "balks account" means "cannot be fully described or defined or explained)

2.
The love of the body of man or woman balks account, the body itself balks account,
That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect.

The expression of the face balks account,

But the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face,
It is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the joints of his hips and wrists,

It is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his waist and knees, dress does not hide him,

The strong sweet quality he has strikes through the cotton and broadcloth,

To see him pass conveys as much as the best poem, perhaps more,

You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and shoulder-side.

The sprawl and fullness of babes, the bosoms and heads of women, the folds of their dress, their style as we pass in the street, the contour of their shape downwards,

The swimmer naked in the swimming-bath, seen as he swims through the transparent green-shine, 

or lies with his face up and rolls silently to and from the heave of the water,

The bending forward and backward of rowers in row-boats, 

The Rowers by Thomas Eakins

(WW's Friend who painted his portrait) 

the horse-man in his saddle,

Girls, mothers, house-keepers, in all their performances,
The group of laborers seated at noon-time with their open
dinner-kettles, and their wives waiting,
The female soothing a child, the farmer's daughter in the garden or cow-yard,

The young fellow hoeing corn, 

the sleigh-driver driving his six horses through the crowd,

The wrestle of wrestlers, two apprentice-boys, quite grown, lusty, good-natured, native-born, out on the vacant lot at sundown after work,
The coats and caps thrown down, the embrace of love and resistance,

The upper-hold and under-hold, the hair rumpled over and blinding the eyes;

Wrestlers by Thomas Eakins

(WW's Friend who painted his portrait)

The march of firemen in their own costumes, the play of masculine muscle through clean-setting trowsers and waist-straps,

The slow return from the fire, the pause when the bell strikes
suddenly again, and the listening on the alert,
The natural, perfect, varied attitudes, the bent head, the curv'd neck and the counting;

Such-like I love—I loosen myself, pass freely, am at the mother's breast with the little child,
Swim with the swimmers, wrestle with wrestlers, march in line with the firemen, and pause, listen, count.