Podcasts about 05t23

The dogs have had their day, time to talk about some cool cats! Episode #35: "Dog Daze" can be heard here: http://edsoliz.podomatic.com/entry/index/2011-06-05T23_47_41-07_00

Que tal amigos. Les mando un saludo y les pido una disculpa a todos los seguidores del podcast que estuvieron esperando episodio. El episodio estaba listo para ser subido a la página, pero por razones de trabajo y debido a que no tuve acceso a internet en mi casa, el episodio taró en ser publicado. Aunado a esto, la cuenta de podomatic tiene un límite de ancho de banda, por lo que no pude subir el audio antes de que el servicio se cortara. Como solución, esta ocasión subí primero el episodio a PODERATO.COM, y agrego aquí el vínculo. Descargar de Poderato: SAN VALENTIN RETRASADO.MP3 Descargar de Podomatic: SAN VALENTIN RETRASADO.MP3 Es fastidioso pero el amor mueve al mundo más que el odio, la avaricia y el miedo juntos. Este extinto mes de febrero de 2011, tras cinco años de una vida felizmente vacía, fui víctima una vez más de Cupido, por eso este episodio está dedicado a una muchacha que se cruzó por mi camino...

Owen read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- Strange Meeting by Wilfred Owen (1893 – 1918) It seemed that out of the battle I escaped Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped Through granites which Titanic wars had groined. Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned, Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred. Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared With piteous recognition in fixed eyes, Lifting distressful hands as if to bless. And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall; With a thousand fears that vision's face was grained; Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground, And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan. "Strange, friend," I said, "Here is no cause to mourn." "None," said the other, "Save the undone years, The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours, Was my life also; I went hunting wild After the wildest beauty in the world, Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair, But mocks the steady running of the hour, And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here. For by my glee might many men have laughed, And of my weeping something has been left, Which must die now. I mean the truth untold, The pity of war, the pity war distilled. Now men will go content with what we spoiled. Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled. They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress, None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress. Courage was mine, and I had mystery; Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery; To miss the march of this retreating world Into vain citadels that are not walled. Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels I would go up and wash them from sweet wells, Even with truths that lie too deep for taint. I would have poured my spirit without stint But not through wounds; not on the cess of war. Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were. I am the enemy you killed, my friend. I knew you in this dark; for so you frowned Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed. I parried; but my hands were loath and cold. Let us sleep now..." For other readings of Wilfred Owen's work, visit: http://classicpoetryaloud.wordpress.com/category/Wilfred-Owen/ This was taken off Classic Poetry Aloud in November, after technical difficulties. Here are the other poems of War Poetry Week: The Soldier by Rupert Brooke http://classicpoetryaloud.podomatic.com/entry/2008-02-02T04_04_52-08_00 Band of Brother Speech by William Shakespeare http://classicpoetryaloud.podomatic.com/entry/2007-11-08T00_05_27-08_00 Ball's Bluff by Herman Melville http://classicpoetryaloud.podomatic.com/entry/2007-11-07T00_09_58-08_00 The Man with the Wooden Leg by Katherine Mansfield http://classicpoetryaloud.podomatic.com/entry/2007-11-05T23_57_21-08_00 Fears In Solitude by Samuel Taylor Coleridge http://classicpoetryaloud.podomatic.com/entry/2007-11-04T23_21_47-08_00

Brooke read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- The Soldier by Rupert Brooke (1887 – 1915) If I should die, think only this of me: That there’s some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, A body of England’s, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home. And think, this heart, all evil shed away, A pulse in the eternal mind, no less Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given; Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day; And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness, In hearts at peace, under an English heaven. This was taken off Classic Poetry Aloud in November, after technical difficulties. Here are the other poems of War Poetry Week: Band of Brother Speech by Shakespeare http://classicpoetryaloud.podomatic.com/entry/2007-11-08T00_05_27-08_00 Ball's Bluff by Melville http://classicpoetryaloud.podomatic.com/entry/2007-11-07T00_09_58-08_00 The Man with the Wooden Leg by Mansfield http://classicpoetryaloud.podomatic.com/entry/2007-11-05T23_57_21-08_00 Fears In Solitude by Coleridge http://classicpoetryaloud.podomatic.com/entry/2007-11-04T23_21_47-08_00