There are many a great injustices in this world, but to be born in a time, where one can listen to Tom Hiddleston read poetry, is truly, a thing of wonderment and perfect happiness.
0:01:45 "The Mower" by Philip Larkin 0:03:10 "I Am!" by John Clare 0:05:15 "Strawberries" by Edwin Morgan 0:06:54 "Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver 0:08:34 "And the days are not full enough" by Ezra Pound 0:09:44 "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley 0:11:09 "Clenched Soul" by Pablo Neruda 0:12:49 "Words, Wide Night" by Carol Ann Duffy 0:14:14 "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost 0:15:49 "Diving into the Wreck" by Adrienne Rich 0:20:04 "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot 0:29:30 "Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night" by Dylan Thomas
Thank you. It's funny when I'm listening to this video and stop at your comment, then I hear tunes of a music instrument, I think to myself "oh wow.. this video plus background music is so lovely.." then I try hard to listen again carefully, wondering what kind of music instrument is this.. take off one of my earphones.. then ta raaa.. my daughter is practising flute in her bedroom, somehow I still can hear the melody from the flute.. But I swear, the flute does suit the poem called "Strawberries".. Forgive my English if it's not that good to illustrate the situation. And thanks again! :)
I purposely search for Tom reading either poetry or reading literature....his voice is like music to a hungry ear and to a hungry heart. #tomhiddleston
A beautiful voice, regarding of the physical appearance of the person who reads - beautifully, in fact perfectly . I would not say smooth - his voice is laden with masculinity. The sort of masculinity trophy hunters try to prove to themselves -and to the world - they possess ( which obviously they don't). Sexy does not cover it - that adjective makes it common, it is not. A thing of beauty, certainly. Thank you for having it recorded and thank you for sharing. The greatest compliment to the reading and the choice of poems, but particularly the reading, I think, is that it makes me want to write poetry.
You said it all, but I must respond to writing poetry: this is one of the reasons I listen to beautifully-read audio of poetry, fiction and nonfiction, all of which I write myself. These wonderful voices go directly from my ear to my soul, and suddenly I want to write. So Tom's superb voice helps motivate me to write (everything) well. Not sure I hit the mark, but I feel motivated to do so. P.S. Check out his reading of Proust. Yikes. Perfection.
@@larisasava8465 um why are you so rude. The OP wasn't rude or negative at all. What they meant was that disregarding his handsome looks, his voice is beautiful and so even if he wasn't perceived as handsome, his voice would still be beautiful!
@@sansconsequence you also messed up in your comment so chill the fuck out. “Regarding of the physical appearance,” it’s regardless of the physical appearance . Like you said, “if you don’t speak English think before writing.” Don’t have to be an asshole. And even if they didn’t fully understand English they did a pretty good job. They probably just misunderstood something.
He has a true gift for storytelling and poetry. His acting as well! Whenever I find myself anxious I listen to him read poetry until I'm calm enough to go about my day. My favorite is the Love Letter called "All this I did Without You." It's funny, delightful and deep to truth.
They are about to launch the audio edition of the Letters: www.thebookseller.com/news/canongate-launch-audio-editions-letters-note-1193872 canongate.co.uk/
I can also relate to that very best! It unwired the messed up bundle in my thoughts. It freshen up a new point of view in my world. It gave me the courage to walk forward in each day of my life! Yes. "All I did, I did it without you!" It's just as easy as it is to say! Tom's pretty voice was made for reading it!
I have a recommendation for you: the highrise audiobook, read by Tom Hiddleston, you can find it on UA-cam for free, it is a bit more that six hours, I think:)
I was about to suffer an anxiety attack this morning, then remember about this reading and play it on, cry a bit relax and then feeling safe and in home ❤
The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found A hedgehog jammed up against the blades, Killed. It had been in the long grass. I had seen it before, and even fed it, once. Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world Unmendably. Burial was no help: Next morning I got up and it did not. The first day after a death, the new absence Is always the same; we should be careful Of each other, we should be kind While there is still time.
00:00 This is Tom Hiddleston - recording poetry for you on Ximalaya 01:45 "The Mower" by Philip Larkin 03:10 "I Am!" by John Clare 05:15 "Strawberries" by Edwin Morgan 06:54 "Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver 08:34 "And the days are not full enough" by Ezra Pound 09:44 "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley 11:09 "Clenched Soul" by Pablo Neruda 12:49 "Words, Wide Night" by Carol Ann Duffy 14:14 "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost 15:49 "Diving into the Wreck" by Adrienne Rich 20:04 "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot 29:30 "Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night" by Dylan Thomas
I wish Tom did free online therapy. I just a want a decent conversation where I dont feel like I'm battling to get my point across. A time where I'm not crying and yelling, where I don't feel frustrated and worthless. Only peace i feel is listening to him read poetry It helps me balance myself back out when I'm alone. Wish I could tell him how much he's helping with a situation he knows nothing about. Who knows Maybe the universe will carry it to him. So if messages and comments ever get to you. Thank you for being a calming sound, a soft breeze, and harmonious melody during my time of personal chaos, thank you.
I know the struggle you're having is none of my business, but I wish you the peace you're seeking. You're NOT worthless; you're just wrestling as we all wrestle, at one time or another. From my experience, finding the therapist that's right for you is a process if trial and error. When I felt I wasn't being heard, I changed therapists. I switched and switched until I found a woman who truly heard me and let me be who I was in the moment, as I inched my way into a lighter and healthier life. Again, I wish you peace and safety.
Tom Hiddleston! You are such a wonderful being! You can talk; as well as, you can sing. You can act, and you can read poetry just like the ancient Royal British Prince. Your voice is warm like a hot cacao during a cold day of the early Spring! Your smile is just like the beautiful blossoms blooming on a warm sunny days of Summer, that haven't yet to come. I don't know you! I've never seen your films! I've never talked to you. Recently, UA-cam exposes a lot of you! I've found that you're such a hardcore creature, that the whole world adore. I'm thankful that you enjoy reading poetry, literature, and all. I'm looking forward to hear many, and many more of your reading soon yet will post on.
If you start at 13:13, you're in your Edwardian manor reading a love letter from him in your translucent nightgown as you brush your hair while the rain pours down outside and you sigh with deep longing because you know he will not return from London for at least a fortnight yet and it fills you with wistful melacholy.
"For I am in love with you." Am I going to cry? Yes. Are they happy tears? Yes. Hearing those words from the person who made you keep living (in my case, Tom) is so nice and relaxing.
People say: "The eyes are the Windows of thy soul" If only you would know. I normally have my deserts before my dinner. I don't prefer strawberries over mangosteens; as I do prefer white over pink or red. For once, I spent a vacation date with my lover. We had dinner, and then desert. It was the coloured fruits, that I wasn't so into of When I hear this poem about strawberries, it got me to think of that dinner, and the desert I once had. If I could change the plan then, I would have. There's no regret. There's no sorrows. There's no judging of how it shoud.have questioned me so! This is how I felt about having desert after my meal, and or kissing without brushing my teeth first! Thank you for reading , sharing your talent, and your pretty voice.
Poetry expresses so much in what humans feel and experience. It’s amazing how no matter when the poem was written, our souls can feel and relate to what the soul is saying in joy or strife. I loved these poems and the calmness of his voice.
Tom's rendering is so sensitive and subtle even a hardened statistician will fall in love with poetry. His rich, plangent voice, brings into sharp relief the imagery of each poem with its multifarious connotations: a distillation so crystalline you can drink, or dive in, to re-emerge as a completely transfigured person. Indefinitely re-listenable.
I'm listening this while studying for my English final and two of these sonnets are ones we have to write about and memorize. Listening to him read it is very helpful memorization technic.
I was dreading doing my math homework. Then, I put this on and I finished all the boring parts of my homework while listening to this. Homework has never been so enjoyable... or peaceful... I have never felt peaceful in my life. I mean it, the closest I've ever been to peaceful is tired or bored. I always thought that's how it worked, but this... this has changed my mind. I used to hate poetry, I don't know why (maybe I just never heard it read the right way before) but I just saw this and I've begun to appreciate poetry. His voice is beautiful, and his reading of the poem is perfect! I understand why they say poetry is an art.
I was just looking for poetry videos for inspiration but I was, instead, reminded of my love for Tom Hiddleston. To be honest, I think I could just listen to him reading my shopping receipts and be content.
This is GOLD. The music and Tom's voice transported me to another world, the world of each of the poems. I cried for some, and sighed with deep satisfaction in others. Thank you for reminding me of how great poems are. They are, in essence, and antidote to a nihilistic existence.
His voice is sooooo soothing. I have listened to this over and over. I suffer from seizures and this calms me down afterwards. I am also a huge fan of Tom, especially his portrayal of Loki. He’s very diverse and a very nice person in real life. It would be amazing to know him!
Check out Cillian Murphy reading poetry and Benedict Cumberbatch reading Sherlock or poetry 💕 Love all these men for providing these wonderful renditions of written works!
Hi, he did and I uploaded the radio plays to my channel 💚 (in some of them he's only got a small role but it's nice to hear his voice) ua-cam.com/video/Yv3tvXAquMY/v-deo.html There are others (audiobooks), can be also found on youtube.
15:49 Diving into the wreck by Adrianne Rich First having read the book of myths, and loaded the camera, and checked the edge of the knife-blade, I put on the body-armor of black rubber the absurd flippers the grave and awkward mask. I am having to do this not like Cousteau with his assiduous team aboard the sun-flooded schooner but here alone. There is a ladder. The ladder is always there hanging innocently close to the side of the schooner. We know what it is for, we who have used it. Otherwise it is a piece of maritime floss some sundry equipment. I go down. Rung after rung and still the oxygen immerses me the blue light the clear atoms of our human air. I go down. My flippers cripple me, I crawl like an insect down the ladder and there is no one to tell me when the ocean will begin. First the air is blue and then it is bluer and then green and then black I am blacking out and yet my mask is powerful it pumps my blood with power the sea is another story the sea is not a question of power I have to learn alone to turn my body without force in the deep element. And now: it is easy to forget what I came for among so many who have always lived here swaying their crenellated fans between the reefs and besides you breathe differently down here. I came to explore the wreck. The words are purposes. The words are maps. I came to see the damage that was done and the treasures that prevail. I stroke the beam of my lamp slowly along the flank of something more permanent than fish or weed the thing I came for: the wreck and not the story of the wreck the thing itself and not the myth the drowned face always staring toward the sun the evidence of damage worn by salt and sway into this threadbare beauty the ribs of the disaster curving their assertion among the tentative haunters. This is the place. And I am here, the mermaid whose dark hair streams black, the merman in his armored body. We circle silently about the wreck we dive into the hold. I am she: I am he whose drowned face sleeps with open eyes whose breasts still bear the stress whose silver, copper, vermeil cargo lies obscurely inside barrels half-wedged and left to rot we are the half-destroyed instruments that once held to a course the water-eaten log the fouled compass We are, I am, you are by cowardice or courage the one who find our way back to this scene carrying a knife, a camera a book of myths in which our names do not appear. 20:04 The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock BY T. S. ELIOT S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse A persona che mai tornasse al mondo, Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse. Ma percioche giammai di questo fondo Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero, Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo. Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreats Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question ... Oh, do not ask, “What is it?” Let us go and make our visit. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes, Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, And seeing that it was a soft October night, Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. And indeed there will be time For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. And indeed there will be time To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?” Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair (They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”) My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin, My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin - (They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”) Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. For I have known them all already, known them all: Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume? And I have known the eyes already, known them all- The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? And how should I presume? And I have known the arms already, known them all- Arms that are braceleted and white and bare (But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!) Is it perfume from a dress That makes me so digress? Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin? shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? ... I should have been a pair of ragged claws Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! Smoothed by long fingers, Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers, Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me. Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed, though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter, I am no prophet - and here’s no great matter; I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker And in short, I was afraid. And would it have been worth it, after all, After the cups, the marmalade, the tea, Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me, Would it have been worth while, To have bitten off the matter with a smile, To have squeezed the universe into a ball To roll it towards some overwhelming question, To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead, Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”- If one, settling a pillow by her head Should say: “That is not what I meant at all; That is not it, at all.” And would it have been worth it, after all, Would it have been worth while, After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor- And this, and so much more?- It is impossible to say just what I mean But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: Would it have been worth while If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl, And turning toward the window, should say “That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all.” No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous- Almost, at times, the Fool. I grow old ... I grow old ... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown. 29:30 dont not go gentle into that good night by dylan tomas Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light
Poetry and Tom's voice is a positive and overwhelming experience. The sound effects were on point, the feelings poured into his interpretation to give life to this poetry is just priceless. Thank you so much for sharing these audios! :')
My friend recommended me to listen to a compilation of his voice when I’m sad because Tom Hiddleston makes me so happy... this video is amazing thank you for this!
I’ve been struggling with anxiety attacks this week, and feel so scared because I don’t know when they might hit. Listening to this calmed me for the first time in three days. Thank you.
1:45 The Mower BY PHILIP LARKIN The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found A hedgehog jammed up against the blades, Killed. It had been in the long grass. I had seen it before, and even fed it, once. Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world Unmendably. Burial was no help: Next morning I got up and it did not. The first day after a death, the new absence Is always the same; we should be careful Of each other, we should be kind While there is still time. 3:10 I Am! BY JOHN CLARE I am-yet what I am none cares or knows; My friends forsake me like a memory lost: I am the self-consumer of my woes- They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes And yet I am, and live-like vapours tossed Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life or joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems; Even the dearest that I loved the best Are strange-nay, rather, stranger than the rest. I long for scenes where man hath never trod A place where woman never smiled or wept There to abide with my Creator, God, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept, Untroubling and untroubled where I lie The grass below-above the vaulted sky. 5:10 Strawberries by edwan morgan There were never strawberries like the ones we had that sultry afternoon sitting on the step of the open french window facing each other your knees held in mine the blue plates in our laps the strawberries glistening in the hot sunlight we dipped them in sugar looking at each other not hurrying the feast for one to come the empty plates laid on the stone together with the two forks crossed and I bent towards you sweet in that air in my arms abandoned like a child from your eager mouth the taste of strawberries in my memory lean back again let me love you let the sun beat on our forgetfulness one hour of all the heat intense and summer lightning on the Kilpatrick hills let the storm wash the plates 6:54 Wild Gesee Mary Oliver You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your kneesfor a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your bodylove what it loves.Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rainare moving across the landscapes,over the prairies and the deep trees,the mountains and the rivers.Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,the world offers itself to your imagination,calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -over and over announcing your placein the family of things. 8:34 'And the days are not full enough' by ezra pounds And the days are not full enough And the nights are not full enough And life slips by like a field mouse Not shaking the grass. 9:44 invictus by william Ernest Henly Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. - In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. - Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds, and shall find me, unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul. 11:09 Clenched soul by Pablo Neruda We have lost even this twilight. No one saw us this evening hand in hand while the blue night dropped on the world. I have seen from my window the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops. Sometimes a piece of sun burned like a coin in my hand. I remember you with my soul clenched in that sadness of mine that you know. Where were you then? Who else was there? Saying what? Why will the whole of love come to me suddenly when I am sad and feel you are far away? The book fell that always closed at twilight and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet. Always, always you recede through the evenings toward the twilight erasing statues. 12:49 words, wide nights by carol ann duffy Somewhere on the other side of this wide night and the distance between us, I am thinking of you. The room is turning slowly away from the moon. This is pleasurable. Or shall I cross that out and say it is sad? In one of the tenses I singi an impossible song of desire that you cannot hear. La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine the dark hills I would have to cross to reach you. For I am in love with you and this is what it is like or what it is like in words. 14:14 The road no taken by robert frost Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.
To be fair, anything Tom Hiddleston reads becomes poetry. He could read the lyrics to "I like big butts" and it would sound like Shakespeare.
Lol
Agree! O my God! So true!
hahahaha yes xD
omg I'd love to hear that AHAHAAHHA
😅😅😅😅😅😅😅😅😅😅😅😅😅😅😅😅😅
His voice kinda sounds like that happy sigh after laughing
Beautifully put, it sounds exactly like that
What a beautiful simile
That is such a lovely thought!
😮 it's true
IT DOES-
I have been reading poems...FOR 30 MINUTES!
Best comment 😅😅😅😅
Hahhahahahhah
and i have been falling even deeper for him...
This comment NEEDS more attention.
OMG
His voice is like the sweet embrace of a loving hug after a awful nightmare, reassuring me that it was all a bad dream. 🖤😍❤️
He has one of the best voices ever. Checkout Brawny King Fitness, his voice is deeper and soothing.
Agreed. I listened to his soft voice when I panic. He soothes me
Oh Gawwwd 🥴🤦🏻♂️😆😆😆😆😆
There are many a great injustices in this world,
but to be born in a time,
where one can listen to Tom Hiddleston read poetry,
is truly, a thing of wonderment and perfect happiness.
Now this is glorious purpose.
Tom Hiddlestone’s voice is autumn rustling leaves, a crisp winter wind, warm spring, glistening sunrays… he is nature❣️
Man! You sure are trying to be Ezra Pound here, or what?
It's sweet though.
Because such comments could happen, comments as a feature are justified…
@@trinhcongdieuhuongtran4545 John Keats was more romantic 🫠
I have been falling (in love)...FOR THIRTY MINUTES!!!!!!
HAHA love this comment ❤
SAMEEE
same
His voice has a rich calming resonance of dark chocolate, melting into the emotional framework of the mind without resistance
I have been falling... for tHIRTY MINUTES!!
Underrated comment
i want to like this comment but I don't want to ruin the number of likes it now has
I understood that reference
0:01:45 "The Mower" by Philip Larkin 0:03:10 "I Am!" by John Clare 0:05:15 "Strawberries" by Edwin Morgan
0:06:54 "Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver 0:08:34 "And the days are not full enough" by Ezra Pound
0:09:44 "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley
0:11:09 "Clenched Soul" by Pablo Neruda
0:12:49 "Words, Wide Night" by Carol Ann Duffy
0:14:14 "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost
0:15:49 "Diving into the Wreck" by Adrienne Rich
0:20:04 "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot
0:29:30 "Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night" by Dylan Thomas
Thank you. It's funny when I'm listening to this video and stop at your comment, then I hear tunes of a music instrument, I think to myself "oh wow.. this video plus background music is so lovely.." then I try hard to listen again carefully, wondering what kind of music instrument is this.. take off one of my earphones.. then ta raaa.. my daughter is practising flute in her bedroom, somehow I still can hear the melody from the flute.. But I swear, the flute does suit the poem called "Strawberries".. Forgive my English if it's not that good to illustrate the situation. And thanks again! :)
Thanks
I could listen to this man read a phone book.
same, my friend, same
Tell me about it. He actually lowers my blood pressure.
yep me too
Therapy session with Tom would be a dream come true. With this calming voice I could finally relax
I purposely search for Tom reading either poetry or reading literature....his voice is like music to a hungry ear and to a hungry heart. #tomhiddleston
A beautiful voice, regarding of the physical appearance of the person who reads - beautifully, in fact perfectly . I would not say smooth - his voice is laden with masculinity. The sort of masculinity trophy hunters try to prove to themselves -and to the world - they possess ( which obviously they don't). Sexy does not cover it - that adjective makes it common, it is not. A thing of beauty, certainly. Thank you for having it recorded and thank you for sharing. The greatest compliment to the reading and the choice of poems, but particularly the reading, I think, is that it makes me want to write poetry.
You said it all, but I must respond to writing poetry: this is one of the reasons I listen to beautifully-read audio of poetry, fiction and nonfiction, all of which I write myself. These wonderful voices go directly from my ear to my soul, and suddenly I want to write. So Tom's superb voice helps motivate me to write (everything) well. Not sure I hit the mark, but I feel motivated to do so. P.S. Check out his reading of Proust. Yikes. Perfection.
I beg to differ, he is very handsomoe...if u think otherwise, u have a real problem...go fix yourself!
@@larisasava8465 Where did I say he was not? And it is handsome by the way. If you don't understand English, think before writing.
@@larisasava8465 um why are you so rude. The OP wasn't rude or negative at all. What they meant was that disregarding his handsome looks, his voice is beautiful and so even if he wasn't perceived as handsome, his voice would still be beautiful!
@@sansconsequence you also messed up in your comment so chill the fuck out. “Regarding of the physical appearance,” it’s regardless of the physical appearance . Like you said, “if you don’t speak English think before writing.” Don’t have to be an asshole. And even if they didn’t fully understand English they did a pretty good job. They probably just misunderstood something.
I want to spend my whole life listening to this
I have been falling for 30 minutes 😭
Me too
He has a true gift for storytelling and poetry. His acting as well! Whenever I find myself anxious I listen to him read poetry until I'm calm enough to go about my day. My favorite is the Love Letter called "All this I did Without You." It's funny, delightful and deep to truth.
They are about to launch the audio edition of the Letters: www.thebookseller.com/news/canongate-launch-audio-editions-letters-note-1193872
canongate.co.uk/
@@p-isforpoetry thanks!
I can also relate to that very best!
It unwired the messed up bundle in my thoughts. It freshen up a new point of view in my world. It gave me the courage to walk forward in each day of my life!
Yes. "All I did, I did it without you!"
It's just as easy as it is
to say!
Tom's pretty voice was
made for reading it!
imagine him speaking softly to you as you rest your head on his chest and he plays with your hair... pure bliss
Phew. That was an intense imagination :D
I love how he turns this English major into a tub of warm butter, to the point I have no idea what he's been saying. I didn't think it was possible.
His voice does not need a background of music! His voice is beautiful on it's own.
Listening to Tom Hiddleston read poetry while I wash dishes and scrub the stove makes cleaning the kitchen a joy.
I like that he’s getting people into poetry
He has a beautiful melodic voice which is one of the reasons he is so successful as an actor.Not every actor has this gift.❤
Totally true. He is deeply admired by so many people.
I can listen to his voice FOREVER
I have a recommendation for you: the highrise audiobook, read by Tom Hiddleston, you can find it on UA-cam for free, it is a bit more that six hours, I think:)
I hope that is what heaven is… my heaven would have to consist of hearing that voice for eternity. ❤️
It's official, I have been falling in love FOR THIRTY MINUTES!!!
And it won't stop there
Hiddleston‘s voice adds so many layers of meanings and sensory significance to the poems, especially the second poem "I am". Love the video very much!
I was about to suffer an anxiety attack this morning, then remember about this reading and play it on, cry a bit relax and then feeling safe and in home ❤
The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found
A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,
Killed. It had been in the long grass.
I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.
Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world
Unmendably. Burial was no help:
Next morning I got up and it did not.
The first day after a death, the new absence
Is always the same; we should be careful
Of each other, we should be kind
While there is still time.
His reading of Strawberries is.....just wow.
What a beautiful voice
His voice is incredible.
Checkout Brawny King Fitness, even he has deep bass voice.
So delightful ❤more episodes with Tom please
00:00 This is Tom Hiddleston - recording poetry for you on Ximalaya
01:45 "The Mower" by Philip Larkin
03:10 "I Am!" by John Clare
05:15 "Strawberries" by Edwin Morgan
06:54 "Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver
08:34 "And the days are not full enough" by Ezra Pound
09:44 "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley
11:09 "Clenched Soul" by Pablo Neruda
12:49 "Words, Wide Night" by Carol Ann Duffy
14:14 "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost
15:49 "Diving into the Wreck" by Adrienne Rich
20:04 "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot
29:30 "Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night" by Dylan Thomas
I wish Tom did free online therapy. I just a want a decent conversation where I dont feel like I'm battling to get my point across. A time where I'm not crying and yelling,
where I don't feel frustrated and worthless. Only peace i feel is listening to him read poetry
It helps me balance myself back out when I'm alone. Wish I could tell him how much he's helping with a situation he knows nothing about. Who knows Maybe the universe will carry it to him. So if messages and comments ever get to you. Thank you for being a calming sound, a soft breeze, and harmonious melody during my time of personal chaos, thank you.
I know the struggle you're having is none of my business, but I wish you the peace you're seeking. You're NOT worthless; you're just wrestling as we all wrestle, at one time or another. From my experience, finding the therapist that's right for you is a process if trial and error. When I felt I wasn't being heard, I changed therapists. I switched and switched until I found a woman who truly heard me and let me be who I was in the moment, as I inched my way into a lighter and healthier life. Again, I wish you peace and safety.
On a different note, Gabor Maté will help you find your own beauty...
Your words speak to me such as a familiar melody I can relate I feel he would actually listen I always feel yes one hears my crying
Those 30 minutes were the most calm I've been in my life
i cant believe i actually listen to this so I can study
Is that a jayniel fan I see?
Tom Hiddleston!
You are such a wonderful being!
You can talk; as well as,
you can sing.
You can act, and you
can read poetry just
like the ancient Royal
British Prince.
Your voice is warm like a hot cacao during a cold day of the early Spring!
Your smile is just like the beautiful blossoms
blooming on a warm sunny days of Summer, that haven't yet to come.
I don't know you!
I've never seen your films!
I've never talked to you.
Recently, UA-cam
exposes a lot of you!
I've found that you're
such a hardcore creature, that the whole world adore.
I'm thankful that you
enjoy reading poetry, literature, and all.
I'm looking forward to hear many, and many
more of your reading
soon yet will post on.
What a lovely poem!! You are so talented and kind!
06:33 « let me love you »
MAN I’M ALREADY IN LOVE
Eu também!❤😍
Do you have any idea what's the background music that played when he read that?
If you start at 13:13, you're in your Edwardian manor reading a love letter from him in your translucent nightgown as you brush your hair while the rain pours down outside and you sigh with deep longing because you know he will not return from London for at least a fortnight yet and it fills you with wistful melacholy.
An just like that we have another Jane Austen movie
listening to my man's heavenly voice before sleep
"For I am in love with you." Am I going to cry? Yes. Are they happy tears? Yes. Hearing those words from the person who made you keep living (in my case, Tom) is so nice and relaxing.
People say:
"The eyes are the Windows of thy soul"
If only you would know.
I normally have my deserts before my dinner.
I don't prefer strawberries over mangosteens;
as I do prefer white over pink or red.
For once, I spent a vacation date with my
lover.
We had dinner, and then desert.
It was the coloured fruits, that I wasn't
so into of
When I hear this poem about strawberries,
it got me to think of that dinner,
and the desert I once had.
If I could change the plan then, I would have.
There's no regret.
There's no sorrows.
There's no judging of how it shoud.have
questioned me so!
This is how I felt about having desert
after my meal, and or kissing without
brushing my teeth first!
Thank you for reading , sharing your
talent, and your pretty voice.
(time stamps ig
thaaaaaanks
Thx
Your voice is poetry, Tom Hiddleston. 💙💙
Hang on, Tom Hiddleston reading Invictus while a soft piano cover of the Song of Storms plays might just be the cure to my anxiety.
You have a really good taste
His voice wraps my soul in pure silk
Poetry expresses so much in what humans feel and experience. It’s amazing how no matter when the poem was written, our souls can feel and relate to what the soul is saying in joy or strife. I loved these poems and the calmness of his voice.
Tom: “Let me love you”…. I almost die every time 🤪🤪🤪
Tom: "Let me love you.
Me: OKAY
Tom's rendering is so sensitive and subtle even a hardened statistician will fall in love with poetry. His rich, plangent voice, brings into sharp relief the imagery of each poem with its multifarious connotations: a distillation so crystalline you can drink, or dive in, to re-emerge as a completely transfigured person. Indefinitely re-listenable.
What does statistician mean?
@@reeveharper6061 deals in, concerned with statistics
I could listen to his voice over and over again. The beuty of it makes me happy, touched and euphoric but also sad and melancholic, am I the only one?
I love his choices and of course the way he reads them is wonderful.
I don't normally listen to poetry but Tom Hiddleston readings give me a new appreciation. Strawberries, Invictus, and Words, Wide Night.
I'm listening this while studying for my English final and two of these sonnets are ones we have to write about and memorize. Listening to him read it is very helpful memorization technic.
I learnt at least 3 poems this way, listening to a pleasant recording works much better for me than just reading it.
Thank you God for Tom Hiddleston ❤
I was dreading doing my math homework. Then, I put this on and I finished all the boring parts of my homework while listening to this. Homework has never been so enjoyable... or peaceful...
I have never felt peaceful in my life. I mean it, the closest I've ever been to peaceful is tired or bored. I always thought that's how it worked, but this... this has changed my mind.
I used to hate poetry, I don't know why (maybe I just never heard it read the right way before) but I just saw this and I've begun to appreciate poetry.
His voice is beautiful, and his reading of the poem is perfect! I understand why they say poetry is an art.
Tom is my favorite person to listen to read poetry
I've been listening to this for the nth time already. I love listening to his poetic voice. His voice is like a cup of tea in the sunny afternoon.
I love everything about Tom Hiddleston, especially his voice 😍😍
Tom Hiddleston has one of the best voices on earth. Checkout Brawny King Fitness, his voice is deep, bass and soothing.
Exactly
After a long stressful work day…listening to his voice on my drive home….is medicine for a weary soul!!
This is everything I need in life
this video is meant to make you fall in love with Tom Hiddleston, you can't say otherwise
God his voice is like being wrapped in his arms like a warm blanket (sigh)😍
Whoa, "Strawberries." Someone fan me. I also loved many of the other works.
His voice is the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. It just makes me happy.
Did it murder me when he said let me love you? RIP.
I was just looking for poetry videos for inspiration but I was, instead, reminded of my love for Tom Hiddleston. To be honest, I think I could just listen to him reading my shopping receipts and be content.
Lol, this is true
Let's be real... the character of Loki speaks as if he's reading poetry. Even if he's threatening you, he sounds proper and beautiful. lol
Ok but...... If he was my math teacher I'd be listening to him all day and get a perfect score🙇🙇🙇🙇
This man's voice calms my mind. I would listen to him all day every day
This is GOLD. The music and Tom's voice transported me to another world, the world of each of the poems. I cried for some, and sighed with deep satisfaction in others. Thank you for reminding me of how great poems are. They are, in essence, and antidote to a nihilistic existence.
I always loathe poetry....this is the first time in my life I love listening poetries....god if he was my teacher I would attend daily class
His voice is sooooo soothing. I have listened to this over and over. I suffer from seizures and this calms me down afterwards. I am also a huge fan of Tom, especially his portrayal of Loki. He’s very diverse and a very nice person in real life. It would be amazing to know him!
Awww that’s so cool that his voice is so powerful that it helps you that much! Take care fellow Loki/Tom fan. 😊
thank you Tom, what a pleasure this was, till the very end, the dying of the light
30 minutes of poetry with Hiddleston aka porn
Tom Hiddleston has one of the best voices ever. Even Barry White and Brawny King Fitness. Check them out.
Check out Cillian Murphy reading poetry and Benedict Cumberbatch reading Sherlock or poetry 💕 Love all these men for providing these wonderful renditions of written works!
Lol, I'm the perfect number of likes for this comment 😆
When he said Let Me Love You... I took a deep sharp breath.
Me: OKAY
I go to sleep listening to this every night... his voice is so soothing and just makes me fall asleep instantly❤❤
why am i blushing listening to this?
Omg he would do great in audiobooks
He's actually done a couple that are available on Audible.
Hi, he did and I uploaded the radio plays to my channel 💚 (in some of them he's only got a small role but it's nice to hear his voice) ua-cam.com/video/Yv3tvXAquMY/v-deo.html
There are others (audiobooks), can be also found on youtube.
Heeee doeees ❤️
He has read Sherlock Holmes and a couple of other books
He did one on that one book called High Rise for about 7 hours
15:49 Diving into the wreck by Adrianne Rich
First having read the book of myths,
and loaded the camera,
and checked the edge of the knife-blade,
I put on
the body-armor of black rubber
the absurd flippers
the grave and awkward mask.
I am having to do this
not like Cousteau with his
assiduous team
aboard the sun-flooded schooner
but here alone.
There is a ladder.
The ladder is always there
hanging innocently
close to the side of the schooner.
We know what it is for,
we who have used it.
Otherwise
it is a piece of maritime floss
some sundry equipment.
I go down.
Rung after rung and still
the oxygen immerses me
the blue light
the clear atoms
of our human air.
I go down.
My flippers cripple me,
I crawl like an insect down the ladder
and there is no one
to tell me when the ocean
will begin.
First the air is blue and then
it is bluer and then green and then
black I am blacking out and yet
my mask is powerful
it pumps my blood with power
the sea is another story
the sea is not a question of power
I have to learn alone
to turn my body without force
in the deep element.
And now: it is easy to forget
what I came for
among so many who have always
lived here
swaying their crenellated fans
between the reefs
and besides
you breathe differently down here.
I came to explore the wreck.
The words are purposes.
The words are maps.
I came to see the damage that was done
and the treasures that prevail.
I stroke the beam of my lamp
slowly along the flank
of something more permanent
than fish or weed
the thing I came for:
the wreck and not the story of the wreck
the thing itself and not the myth
the drowned face always staring
toward the sun
the evidence of damage
worn by salt and sway into this threadbare beauty
the ribs of the disaster
curving their assertion
among the tentative haunters.
This is the place.
And I am here, the mermaid whose dark hair
streams black, the merman in his armored body.
We circle silently
about the wreck
we dive into the hold.
I am she: I am he
whose drowned face sleeps with open eyes
whose breasts still bear the stress
whose silver, copper, vermeil cargo lies
obscurely inside barrels
half-wedged and left to rot
we are the half-destroyed instruments
that once held to a course
the water-eaten log
the fouled compass
We are, I am, you are
by cowardice or courage
the one who find our way
back to this scene
carrying a knife, a camera
a book of myths
in which
our names do not appear.
20:04 The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock BY T. S. ELIOT
S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma percioche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.
Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question ...
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair
(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin -
(They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”)
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all-
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?
And I have known the arms already, known them all-
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? ...
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet - and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker
And in short, I was afraid.
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it towards some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”-
If one, settling a pillow by her head
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all;
That is not it, at all.”
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor-
And this, and so much more?-
It is impossible to say just what I mean
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous-
Almost, at times, the Fool.
I grow old ... I grow old ...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
29:30 dont not go gentle into that good night by dylan tomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light
Poetry and Tom's voice is a positive and overwhelming experience. The sound effects were on point, the feelings poured into his interpretation to give life to this poetry is just priceless. Thank you so much for sharing these audios! :')
He is so comfortable... His voice, his charisma, his character and appearance... I admire of him, he’s entrancing! ❤
I've just walked to my local hospital to visit my daughter whilst listening to Tom read poetry. I think I had an eargasm
My friend recommended me to listen to a compilation of his voice when I’m sad because Tom Hiddleston makes me so happy... this video is amazing thank you for this!
I’ve been struggling with anxiety attacks this week, and feel so scared because I don’t know when they might hit.
Listening to this calmed me for the first time in three days. Thank you.
Stay calm and try not to give in to apprehension. Peace.
Wild Geese was one of those poems that got me through the toughest times. I even have a tattoo to honor it, so finding this was such a delight
Beautiful, deep, soothing , I love his voice and of course him
His voice is my happy place.
His voice 😍, it soothes me, it is heaven. On my bad days i listen to him. His voice is my comfort.
Thank you Tom Huddleston for sharing your talents. You bring joy to the world with the beauty of your work.
Just a nice friendly correction, its Tom Hiddleston
thanks to you tom. last night i was sleep well. i love you.
with ladybug레이디버그랑 Mmmmmmmmm indeed. I just wish it was 42 hours
This voice of him is so beautiful and full with magic! I could listen hours to him and never get bored...
that strawberries poem GOT ME PREGNANT AF
I finally found something to help with my insomnia,,
Thank you for this lovely gift.
That's how I got here. Doc recommended mindfulness and relaxation. So I went searching for Tom. =3
1:45 The Mower
BY PHILIP LARKIN
The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found
A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,
Killed. It had been in the long grass.
I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.
Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world
Unmendably. Burial was no help:
Next morning I got up and it did not.
The first day after a death, the new absence
Is always the same; we should be careful
Of each other, we should be kind
While there is still time.
3:10 I Am!
BY JOHN CLARE
I am-yet what I am none cares or knows;
My friends forsake me like a memory lost:
I am the self-consumer of my woes-
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes
And yet I am, and live-like vapours tossed
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life or joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems;
Even the dearest that I loved the best
Are strange-nay, rather, stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes where man hath never trod
A place where woman never smiled or wept
There to abide with my Creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie
The grass below-above the vaulted sky.
5:10 Strawberries by edwan morgan
There were never strawberries
like the ones we had
that sultry afternoon
sitting on the step
of the open french window
facing each other
your knees held in mine
the blue plates in our laps
the strawberries glistening
in the hot sunlight
we dipped them in sugar
looking at each other
not hurrying the feast
for one to come
the empty plates
laid on the stone together
with the two forks crossed
and I bent towards you
sweet in that air
in my arms
abandoned like a child
from your eager mouth
the taste of strawberries
in my memory
lean back again
let me love you
let the sun beat
on our forgetfulness
one hour of all
the heat intense
and summer lightning
on the Kilpatrick hills
let the storm wash the plates
6:54 Wild Gesee Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your kneesfor a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your bodylove what it loves.Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rainare moving across the landscapes,over the prairies and the deep trees,the mountains and the rivers.Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,the world offers itself to your imagination,calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -over and over announcing your placein the family of things.
8:34 'And the days are not full enough' by ezra pounds
And the days are not full enough And the nights are not full enough And life slips by like a field mouse Not shaking the grass.
9:44 invictus by william Ernest Henly
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul. -
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed. -
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.
11:09 Clenched soul by Pablo Neruda
We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.
I have seen from my window
the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.
Sometimes a piece of sun
burned like a coin in my hand.
I remember you with my soul clenched
in that sadness of mine that you know.
Where were you then?
Who else was there?
Saying what?
Why will the whole of love come to me suddenly
when I am sad and feel you are far away?
The book fell that always closed at twilight
and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.
Always, always you recede through the evenings
toward the twilight erasing statues.
12:49 words, wide nights by carol ann duffy
Somewhere on the other side of this wide night
and the distance between us, I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly away from the moon.
This is pleasurable. Or shall I cross that out and say
it is sad? In one of the tenses I singi
an impossible song of desire that you cannot hear.
La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine the dark hills I would have to cross
to reach you. For I am in love with you
and this is what it is like or what it is like in words.
14:14 The road no taken by robert frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
NOT ME CRYING OVER HIS VOICE'S VIBRATION
Amidst the turmoil of our crazy world, poetry is the antidote... thank you..
Hearing Tom speaking Chilean poetry is the best thing that could happen to me❤️
I have been listening FOR 30 MINUTES!!
Haha had to take the chance
I just had to put it out there... This video went to my ASMR playlist
I want to ask from that one person unlike, Are you even human? This is therapy for humans with sorrowful soul and hearts. It's so beautiful