Sk8oetry

By RonnyB

A wonderful collection of poems by the greats. Each poem is recorded in a different part of London with the visual backdrop of me electric skateboarding!... more

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How many episodes does Sk8oetry have?

The podcast currently has 6 episodes available.

Sk8oetry episodes:

March 13, 2020 "Lines Written in Early Spring" - William Wordsworth (St James' Park) - Sk8oetry
And "A Spring Morning" by William Wordsworth
sk8oetry@gmail @sk8_bard
Lines Written in Early Spring - William Wordsworth
I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.
Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And ’tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.
The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:—
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.
If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature’s holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?
"A Spring Morning" - William Wordsworth
There was a roaring in the wind all night;
The rain came heavily and fell in floods;
But now the sun is rising calm and bright;
The birds are singing in the distant woods;
Over his own sweet voice the stock dove broods;
The jay makes answer as the magpie chatters;
And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters.
All things that love the sun are out of doors;
The sky rejoices in the morning’s birth;
The grass is bright with rain drops – on the moor.
The hare is running races in her mirth;
And with her feet she from the plashy earth;
Raises a mist; that, glittering in the sun,
Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.
...more
6min
February 27, 2020 "Kubla Khan" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (Battersea Power Station) - Sk8oetry
[email protected] @sk8_bard
Kubla Khan - Samuel Taylor Coleridge
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round;
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:
And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean;
And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight ’twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
...more
6min
February 20, 2020 "The Charge of the Light Brigade" by Alfred Lord Tennyson (Hammersmith Bridge at night) - Sk8oetry
[email protected] @sk8_bard
The Charge of the Light Brigade - Alfred Lord Tennyson
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
“Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!” he said.
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
“Forward, the Light Brigade!”
Was there a man dismayed?
Not though the soldier knew
Someone had blundered.
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die.
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of hell
Rode the six hundred.
Flashed all their sabres bare,
Flashed as they turned in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wondered.
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right through the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reeled from the sabre stroke
Shattered and sundered.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell.
They that had fought so well
Came through the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!
...more
5min
February 14, 2020 "Travel Light" by Diane Cluck and Jeffrey Lewis (Notting Hill) - Sk8oetry
Travel Light" by Diane Cluck and Jeffrey Lewis
[email protected] @sk8_bard
Listen to the song here - https://open.spotify.com/track/28d4HLqmll5lSrnMnTDGLm?si=X3t4HA-sTIiDegxjbL2zrg
Travel Light - Diane Cluck and Jeffrey Lewis
When I was an astronaut, I didn't take my boots
When I was a coal-miner, I didn't know the news
When I ran a record store, Ididn't have the blues
I travel light and thats the life for me.
He doesn't care where else he goes
He's not gonna take any extra clothes
Or extra shoes to hide his feet
The ground is dirt, the dirt is sweet.
When I go to London town I'll stand under a rock
Until I know all the time it takes to pack a clock
Then I'll flip it over, close the key, swallow the lock
I travel light and that's the life for me.
He doesn't take his spoon or fork
He's seen to many eating in New York
He'll use his hands to pick and eat
The fruit he finds, he'll find it sweet
When I was a waitress, I gave away my tips
When I was a call-girl, I gave away my hips
When I ran the kissing-booth, I gave away my lips
I travel light and that's the life for me.
She lives a life like abandoned wind
Elemental wife, fortune is her friend
A smile on a river made of light
She's just a pebble on waterfall tonight
When I go to Boston, I'll stand around in jeans
And save the cash to leave by selling black-market baked beans
Denim's what I like to wear, it has durable seams
I travel light and that's the life for me.
She's just a genius without a thinking cap
'Never pays the rent, she's funny like that
I don't know what she's on, she's here and gone
Rides a welcome mat on a jungle cat.
Furs and sofa chairs and shiny things are just a fuss
We'll eat all the peanuts that we steal from the circus
We'll count all the stars and go to sleep under the bus
We'll travel light and that's the life for us
We'll travel light and that's the life for us
We'll travel light and that's the life for us
We'll travel light and that's the life for us
...more
4min
February 08, 2020 "If" by Rudyard Kipling (Craven Cottage, Fulham) - Sk8oetry
[email protected] @sk8_bard
If — Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master; If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And — which is more — you’ll be a Man, my son!
...more
6min
February 06, 2020 "London" by William Blake (River Thames) - Sk8oetry
[email protected] @sk8_bard
London - William Blake
I wander thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow.
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every Man,
In every Infants cry of fear,
In every voice: in every ban,
The mind-forg'd manacles I hear
How the Chimney-sweepers cry
Every blackning Church appalls,
And the hapless Soldiers sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls
But most thro' midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlots curse
Blasts the new-born Infants tear
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse
I wander thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow.
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
...more
5min

FAQs about Sk8oetry:

How many episodes does Sk8oetry have?

The podcast currently has 6 episodes available.