We don't have cicadas out here in California. At least i've never seen one. But i'm sympathetic to all those people back east who have had to deal with the ugly critters this year.

If you're suffering through the infestation, you may look to the words of the great haiku poet Basho for encouragement.

In the cicada's cry
No sign can foretell
How soon it must die.

Update: Victor beat me to it (via Zenchick). He's also got some wild and grotesque pictures here, here and here.

Posted by: annika at 10:41 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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i have been negligent for not posting any poem by my favorite poet on one of these Poetry Wednesdays. Today i will correct that. The following is by Edna St. Vincent Millay:

God's World

O WORLD, I cannot hold thee close enough!
    Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
    Thy mists that roll and rise!
Thy woods this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag
To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!

Long have I known a glory in it all,
    But never knew I this;
    Here such a passion is
As stretcheth me apart,—Lord, I do fear
ThouÂ’st made the world too beautiful this year;
My soul is all but out of me,—let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.

Posted by: annika at 02:14 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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In lieu of a poem, and in honor of Cole Porter's birthday today, i present to you the lyrics to my favorite Cole Porter song. You may not have heard these lyrics because the song is more famous as an instrumental. It was band leader Artie Shaw's theme song, i believe.

Begin the Beguine

When they begin the beguine
It brings back the sound of music so tender,
It brings back a night of tropical splendor,
It brings back a memory ever green.

IÂ’m with you once more under the stars,
And down by the shore an orchestraÂ’s playing
And even the palms seem to be swaying
When they begin the beguine.

To live it again is past all endeavor,
Except when that tune clutches my heart,
And there we are, swearing to love forever,
And promising never, never to part.

What moments divine, what rapture serene,
Till clouds came along to disperse the joys we had tasted,
And now when I hear people curse the chance that was wasted,
I know but too well what they mean;

So donÂ’t let them begin the beguine
Let the love that was once a fire remain an ember;
Let it sleep like the dead desire I only remember
When they begin the beguine.

Oh yes, let them begin the beguine, make them play
Till the stars that were there before return above you,
Till you whisper to me once more,
'Darling, I love you!'
And we suddenly know, what heaven weÂ’re in,
When they begin the beguine

Happy one hundred and thirteenth birthday Cole Porter!

Posted by: annika at 05:24 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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