Advertise on podcast: words by NEBOH

Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream? Narration of the poem by Edgar Allan Poe Music credit: https://pixabay.com/users/back_drop-19410400/ Thumbnail: Photo by Kunj Parekh on Unsplash

Music: https://pixabay.com/users/roman_sol-53615905/ Thumbnail image: https://unsplash.com/@jbcreate_ The Poem: Thy various works, imperial queen, we see,     How bright their forms! how deck'd with pomp by thee! Thy wond'rous acts in beauteous order stand, And all attest how potent is thine hand.     From Helicon's refulgent heights attend, Ye sacred choir, and my attempts befriend: To tell her glories with a faithful tongue, Ye blooming graces, triumph in my song.     Now here, now there, the roving Fancy flies, Till some lov'd object strikes her wand'ring eyes, Whose silken fetters all the senses bind, And soft captivity involves the mind.     Imagination! who can sing thy force? Or who describe the swiftness of thy course? Soaring through air to find the bright abode, Th' empyreal palace of the thund'ring God, We on thy pinions can surpass the wind, And leave the rolling universe behind: From star to star the mental optics rove, Measure the skies, and range the realms above. There in one view we grasp the mighty whole, Or with new worlds amaze th' unbounded soul.     Though Winter frowns to Fancy's raptur'd eyes The fields may flourish, and gay scenes arise; The frozen deeps may break their iron bands, And bid their waters murmur o'er the sands. Fair Flora may resume her fragrant reign, And with her flow'ry riches deck the plain; Sylvanus may diffuse his honours round, And all the forest may with leaves be crown'd: Show'rs may descend, and dews their gems disclose, And nectar sparkle on the blooming rose.     Such is thy pow'r, nor are thine orders vain, O thou the leader of the mental train: In full perfection all thy works are wrought, And thine the sceptre o'er the realms of thought. Before thy throne the subject-passions bow, Of subject-passions sov'reign ruler thou; At thy command joy rushes on the heart, And through the glowing veins the spirits dart.     Fancy might now her silken pinions try To rise from earth, and sweep th' expanse on high: From Tithon's bed now might Aurora rise, Her cheeks all glowing with celestial dies, While a pure stream of light o'erflows the skies. The monarch of the day I might behold, And all the mountains tipt with radiant gold, But I reluctant leave the pleasing views, Which Fancy dresses to delight the Muse; Winter austere forbids me to aspire, And northern tempests damp the rising fire; They chill the tides of Fancy's flowing sea, Cease then, my song, cease the unequal lay.

A monster to end all joy. A friend to ease all pain. What is this of which I speak? Loneliness, and what she does to me...

Read from PoetryFoundation.orgSong (free use): "Dark Heart" by Walen Thumbnail Image Credit: Matt Benson - Unsplash The Poem: Gaily bedight,   A gallant knight,In sunshine and in shadow,      Had journeyed long,      Singing a song,In search of Eldorado.   But he grew old—   This knight so bold—   And o’er his heart a shadow—      Fell as he found   No spot of groundThat looked like Eldorado.   And, as his strength      Failed him at length,He met a pilgrim shadow—      ‘Shadow,’ said he,      ‘Where can it be—This land of Eldorado?’   ‘Over the Mountains   Of the Moon,Down the Valley of the Shadow,      Ride, boldly ride,’   The shade replied,—‘If you seek for Eldorado!’

Spoken-word narration of three poems by Emily Dickinson. Music: String Quartet No. 12 "American Quartet" composed by Antonín Dvořák.Poems included: 1. This is my letter to the world 2. Glee, the great storm is over 3. If I can stop one heart from breaking

It was many and many a year ago,In a kingdom by the sea,That a maiden there lived whom you may knowBy the name of Annabel Lee...

Ladies and gentlemen, join a spaced-out ride, as we circle back to the world's ending.

Don't let the worst critic hold you back. And what's this critic's name? Well, that depends...

As he falls from the sky, the lost fighter thinks in a stream of consciousness.

Stop waiting to do your thing! It's dangerous, I say...

What do you see when you look out your window, at all the buildings and in all the cars?

I fear that it's near...The new year. *Potentially harmful content warning*

This is spoken poetry. As adults, it can be hard to let go of childhood traumas, especially when we haven't processed them. How can we overcome these things to be more confident in ourselves? I was in the shower the other day when I heard the neighbors fighting…

Shadowed, a flaming demon lies unseen, enwrapped to shroud; He wants to scintillate the blacks of eyes, as in mine, yours and — all he shines... Image thanks to name_ gravity

Is it okay to talk to someone who isn't your partner? And what if they say "you're dumb," but in that silly way? You know.  Love, guilt, age gaps and culture shocks are all explored, hoping that we can see people as more than their labels--and keep it that way. Cover image by tabitha turner