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.
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.
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.
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!”
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!”
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!
By the way, this is a good example of how to announce a poem's title: deliberate, purposeful, confident.
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 👏👏
Chills. Literal chils.
awesome
Those hand gestures just kills me.
Good Job Maggie! Way to make Le Jardin Academy Proud!
Moira jaaa!!!!
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.
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.
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?
Tears streaming down my cheeks…
Boiiiiii
Civ 5 and the statue of liberty bring me here
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!”
She certainly can enunciate. I find the new colossus to be difficult to stay in rhythm.
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.
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!”