A poet unknown to me before today, I thought I'd share this quirky interpretation of Henry Ponder's work. Why all Henrys different? And why do footballers keep hitting their heads with balls when that's sure to do them damage? Please stop!
I love this speakers vocal interpretation of the work (it was created without working with the poet himself; he isn't he one doing the reading). But the reading is so well done, and the voice suits the images that are telling us the stories in another way.
Henry has got opinions on every little bit of life and shares it in these little poems. You can read much of his work on his Flickr here, but I thought I would share one of my favorite pieces by him that I found as well:
Hot ToastHot toast, I flip you between one hand and the other as you try to burn my fingers in turn. Let me cool your temper with butter.
Absolutely absurd, but I somehow love it. I mean, isn't it the little bits of our days that add up to make something beautiful? Why not stop and try to create a beautiful poem about those little bits as well?