I love it when I find poems being recited without music playing in the background, when we learn to appreciate the music in the poem itself. Thank you!
Of course, you can't go wrong with Emma Lazarus's famous sonnet. And I dare say Miss Odom wins the prize for elevating her recitation to the level of poetic diction, without falling into the trap of sounding incantatory. She also embraced fully the spirit of the poem with both mind and body. Well done.
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. “Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
Good on her, at least she can recite this with some personality. I look up the poem and everyone reads it out like they're reading the eulogy of some stranger. She enunciated without overdoing it (for the most part), and it didn't feel like sandpaper being rubbed into my ears. My compliments.
The myth of America this poem speaks is one I nievely believed as a child. The United States is a dream how we would see ourselves nor how we have ever been. Greatness that has never been but one where tomorrow still has hope that someday we can finally breathe free.
The New Colossus BY EMMA LAZARUS Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. “Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
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By the way, this is a good example of how to announce a poem's title: deliberate, purposeful, confident.
I love it when I find poems being recited without music playing in the background, when we learn to appreciate the music in the poem itself. Thank you!
Beautiful recitation!
Of course, you can't go wrong with Emma Lazarus's famous sonnet. And I dare say Miss Odom wins the prize for elevating her recitation to the level of poetic diction, without falling into the trap of sounding incantatory. She also embraced fully the spirit of the poem with both mind and body. Well done.
Beautiful
❤❤❤❤
Magnificent 👏👏
Nice! But shouldn’t the “our” of the third line be given more weight to set it apart from the “Greek” of the first line?
Those hand gestures just kills me.
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
Good Job Maggie! Way to make Le Jardin Academy Proud!
awesome
Good on her, at least she can recite this with some personality. I look up the poem and everyone reads it out like they're reading the eulogy of some stranger. She enunciated without overdoing it (for the most part), and it didn't feel like sandpaper being rubbed into my ears. My compliments.
Moira jaaa!!!!
Civ 5 and the statue of liberty bring me here
Boiiiiii
The myth of America this poem speaks is one I nievely believed as a child. The United States is a dream how we would see ourselves nor how we have ever been. Greatness that has never been but one where tomorrow still has hope that someday we can finally breathe free.
The New Colossus
BY EMMA LAZARUS
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
Tears streaming down my cheeks…
Pretty dark poem and considering what we had to do to the natives of this land…. We bring in the masses but disregard what’s already been here.
Chills. Literal chils.
She certainly can enunciate. I find the new colossus to be difficult to stay in rhythm.