Rebecca's Reading Room

Rebecca Budd

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Rebecca's Reading Room

Welcome to my Reading Room where stories dwell and words ignite our imagination. Rebecca’s Reading room is a virtual space that has been set aside for reading and reflection. It is a place where stories and poetry are given voice. I am your host, Rebecca Budd. I look forward to sharing these moments with you

22 FEB

Woods in Winter by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

S5 E3 Woods in Winter by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Reading poetry in the winter offers a unique comfort, as the cold, often bleak environment outside contrasts with the warmth and intimacy found in verse. The act of curling up with a collection of poems allows one to escape into a world of emotion and reflection, where the themes of solitude and introspection resonate deeply during the darker months. The rhythmic flow of words can evoke a sense of nostalgia and peace, making the experience of reading poetry a soothing ritual that provides solace against the chill of winter. Reading poetry in the winter offers a unique comfort! Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem “Woods in Winter” captures the serene beauty and reflective quality of nature during the cold months. The poem paints vivid imagery of the stark, bare trees and the quietude of the winter landscape. His use of language evokes a sense of stillness, allowing me to appreciate the subtle nuances of the season. The contrast between the vibrant life of summer and the somber tones of winter serves to highlight the cyclical nature of life and the beauty found within each phase. Woods in Winter by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow When winter winds are piercing chill, And through the hawthorn blows the gale, With solemn feet I tread the hill, That overbrows the lonely vale. O'er the bare upland, and away Through the long reach of desert woods, The embracing sunbeams chastely play, And gladden these deep solitudes. Where, twisted round the barren oak, The summer vine in beauty clung, And summer winds the stillness broke, The crystal icicle is hung. Where, from their frozen urns, mute springs Pour out the river's gradual tide, Shrilly the skater's iron rings, And voices fill the woodland side. Alas! how changed from the fair scene, When birds sang out their mellow lay, And winds were soft, and woods were green, And the song ceased not with the day! But still wild music is abroad, Pale, desert woods! within your crowd; And gathering winds, in hoarse accord, Amid the vocal reeds pipe loud. Chill airs and wintry winds! my ear Has grown familiar with your song; I hear it in the opening year, I listen, and it cheers me long. This poem is in the public domain. Photography and Recitation by Rebecca Budd Music by Epidemic Sound Snow in June by Martin Landh https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/s90EMsFAMN/ I love working with the Epidemic Sound team. I invite you to listen in at https://www.epidemicsound.com/referral/03ycqx

5 min
7 FEB

Surprised by Joy by William Wordsworth

S5 E2 Surprised by Joy William Wordsworth Surprised by Joy’ is a heart-breaking poem written by William Wordsworth when recalling the grief of his daughter Catherine’s passing. The poem is written in the form of a sonnet, with the first eight lines describing his initial shock and disbelief, and the last six lines expressing his deep sorrow and regret. William Wordsworth experienced a great deal of pain throughout his life. His poem “Surprised by Joy” is an expressive piece that reflects on his life and his ability to find joy amidst grief. With his poetic words, he expresses surprise at the unexpected joy that came to him even when grieving. He questions why he can feel joy when his daughter is no longer with him. William Wordsworth captures the emptiness of grief with words that express a profound understanding of loss. Yet, there is joy. He reminds us that joy can be found in the most unexpected of places, bringing us back to a time of our most cherished memories. Surprised by Joy by William Wordsworth Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind I turned to share the transport—Oh! with whom But Thee, long buried in the silent Tomb, That spot which no vicissitude can find? Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind— But how could I forget thee?—Through what power, Even for the least division of an hour, Have I been so beguiled as to be blind To my most grievous loss!—That thought’s return Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore, Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn, Knowing my heart’s best treasure was no more; That neither present time, nor years unborn Could to my sight that heavenly face restore. Recitation and photography by Rebecca Budd Music by Gavin Luke “To the Moon and Beyond” #EpidemicSound https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/H6shp6f3WB/

4 min
8 JAN

Sea Fever by John Masefield

S5 E1: Sea Fever by John Masefield Story-telling is the signature of humanity. And the very best stories of all come from our poets. John Edward Masefield was a consummate story-teller. Born in Ledbury in Herefordshire, England on June 1, 1878, he lost his parents at an early age and endured an unhappy education at the King’s School in Warwick. He escaped to the sea on board the HMS Conway for two reasons, the first one being to train for a life at sea. His second reason was more unusual: to break his addiction to reading because his aunt thought it was a wasteful pastime. Instead of curbing his appetite for reading, the lengthy time at sea gave him the occasion to read and write. His love of story-telling was cultivated when he listened to shipmates speak of the lore of the sea. John Masefield left the sea to become a writer. It was not an easy road – he lived as a vagrant and accepted odd jobs, including an assistant to a bar keeper. He became Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom from 1930 until his death in 1967. He rests in the Poets’ Corner in Westminster Abbey. Sea Fever is on my favourite list. I especially identify with: “And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover.” In the end, it is our connections with friends and family that make life extraordinary. Sea Fever by John Masefield I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking, And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking, I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying, And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying. I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life, To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife; And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover, And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over. Photography by Rebecca Budd Music by Epidemic Sound “Follow Hidden Paths” By David Celeste https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/jwMyNWoEMi/

2 min
21/12/2024

Sarah’s Gift

S4 E14: Sarah’s Gift Christmas is a time of gift giving, a moment when we cherish the bonds we share with one another. The gifts that stay fresh in my memory are those that originate from the soul, infused with genuine love and consideration. It’s not always the material items that leave a lasting impression, but the thoughtful gestures that illuminate the true spirit of the season. Several Christmases ago my sister Sarah gave me the gift of reciting the poem by Elinor Wylie, “Velvet Shoes”. Every December 25th, I reopen this gift and feel the love that made this gift. I invite you to open this gift with me. Velvet Shoes by Elinor Wylie Let us walk in the white snow In a soundless space; With footsteps quiet and slow, At a tranquil pace, Under veils of white lace. I shall go shod in silk, And you in wool, White as white cow’s milk, More beautiful Than the breast of a gull. We shall walk through the still town In a windless peace; We shall step upon white down, Upon silver fleece, Upon softer than these. We shall walk in velvet shoes: Wherever we go Silence will fall like dews On white silence below. We shall walk in the snow. The gift of this poem transcends time, evoking warmth and love each Christmas. Reopening this gift every year allows me to reflect on the love infused into it, much like the spirit of giving that connects us all during the holiday season. A kind word, a handwritten note, or simply the time spent together can mean more than any store-bought item. By sharing our love and appreciation, we create memories that will linger long after the holiday season has passed, reminding us of the beauty that lies within human connection. As we gather with loved ones, we celebrate not only our relationships but also the gift of life, which is precious and fleeting. I wish you the best of this special season. Rebecca Photography and Poetry Recitation by Sarah Ahmadi Music by Howard Harper-Barnes “Brave New World” https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/dV0kSPr2Ku/ #EpidemicSound

2 min
04/10/2024

Up-Hill by Christina Rossetti

S4 E13: Up-Hill by Christina Rossetti - 1830-1894 As I walk along the winding path through a wooded area, I am reminded of Christina Rossetti’s contemplative poem “Up-Hill.” The tranquil surroundings mirror the metaphorical journey of life depicted in the poem. Christina Rossetti’s poem “Up-Hill” reflects on the journey of life using the metaphor of a traveler ascending a difficult road. The poem consists of a dialogue between the speaker and an unnamed interlocutor. This structure gives the poem a conversational tone, making the reader feel engaged in the questioning and answering. The repetitive questioning in the first three stanzas, with the consistent answer of hardship and struggle, creates a sense of inevitability about life’s challenges. The poem’s structure emphasizes the enduring nature of these difficulties. Conversely, the poem concludes with a reassuring tone as the answers become more positive, suggesting that there is rest, companionship, and comfort at the end of life’s journey. The imagery of the uphill road and the recurring questions about rest and companionship raises existential questions about the meaning of life and the afterlife. The poem also explores the universal themes of perseverance, faith, and the hope for solace in the face of life’s struggles. Up-Hill by Christina Rossetti Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end. Will the day's journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend. But is there for the night a resting-place? A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide it from my face? You cannot miss that inn. Shall I meet other wayfarers at night? Those who have gone before. Then must I knock, or call when just in sight? They will not keep you standing at that door. Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak? Of labour you shall find the sum. Will there be beds for me and all who seek? Yea, beds for all who come. Photography & Recitation by Rebecca Budd Music by Gavin Luke “The Departure” #EpidemicSound https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/xfBmgBPOSP/

3 min
02/09/2024

Simple Pleasures - Haiku from the Place Just Right by Elizabeth Gauffreau

S4 E12: Simple Pleasures - Haiku from the Place Just Right by Elizabeth Gauffreau Simple Pleasures Haiku from the Place Just Right” In “Simple Pleasures Haiku from the Place Just Right,” Elizabeth Gauffreau curates a profound collection of 53 haiku, each accompanied by a photograph memory. With a focus on nature and the serene landscapes of Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine, Liz invites us to embark on a sensory journey through her cherished places. The fusion of eloquent poetry and evocative imagery ensures that each haiku is a window into the intense beauty and tranquility of these natural settings. Reading Liz’s poetry is to revel in the pure joy found in the simple pleasures of nature. “Simple Pleasures” resonated with me. Liz’s evocative words intertwined with my own experiences. She speaks to our longing to find the place “just right.” Music by Epidemic Sound “Finding Melody” by Gavin Luke https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/Xlx96TspQP/

5 min
20/08/2024

Sonnet 18: Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? By William Shakespeare

S4 E11: Sonnet 18: Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day By William Shakespeare Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date; Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm’d; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st; Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare is perhaps one of the best-known and most-loved poems in the English language. It is part of the Fair Youth sequence, a series of sonnets that are addressed to a young man of great beauty. The sonnet’s opening line, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?,” immediately sets the tone for the poem. William Shakespeare goes on to describe how the beauty of the young man surpasses that of a summer’s day, which is often seen as the epitome of beauty and vitality. The use of imagery throughout the sonnet allows the reader to vividly imagine the young man’s timeless beauty. The poem also explores the theme of immortality through verse, as Shakespeare promises that the young man’s beauty will be preserved forever in his words. The concluding couplet, “So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, / So long lives this, and this gives life to thee,” further emphasizes the idea that the poem itself will ensure the young man’s enduring legacy. When I recite Sonnet 18 I feel a sense of awe and admiration for the enduring power of love and beauty, the timeless elegance and the transcendence of mortality. Giving voice to William Shakespeare’s words prompts a deep connection to the beauty of nature and an acknowledgment of the immortalizing effect of art and poetry. Music by Epidemic Sound Candelion “Anten Before Dawn” https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/oBHRGzcbsI/

3 min
02/08/2024

August Moonrise by Sara Teasdale

S4 E10: August Moonrise by Sara Teasdale I am on a leisurely walk in a North Vancouver nature park. I feel the tranquil embrace of August enticing me to pause, and breathe deeply under the canopy of trees. I take out a poem by Sara Teasdale that I have chosen to recite to the stillness around me – August Moonrise. Celebrating the coming of August with Sara Teasdale Welcome to a serene exploration of Sara Teasdale’s profound literary legacy amidst the tranquil beauty of August. Nature’s Transcendence In this poignant poem, Sara Teasdale departs from her previous themes of love and loss, delving into the post-World War I disillusionment and embracing a more existential tone. The speaker’s immersion in the beauty of nature provides a brief respite from the harsh realities of life. The vivid imagery of the moonrise and the forest evokes a profound sense of awe and wonder, while the questioning of the soul’s existence is juxtaposed with the solace found in the belief that beauty can transcend death. Through this lens, the poem stands as a testament to the enduring power of nature to inspire and provide meaning in the face of life’s uncertainties. August Moonrise by Sara Teasdale The sun was gone, and the moon was coming Over the blue Connecticut hills; The west was rosy, the east was flushed, And over my head the swallows rushed This way and that, with changeful wills. I heard them twitter and watched them dart Now together and now apart Like dark petals blown from a tree; The maples stamped against the west Were black and stately and full of rest, And the hazy orange moon grew up And slowly changed to yellow gold While the hills were darkened, fold on fold To a deeper blue than a flower could hold. Down the hill I went, and then I forgot the ways of men, For night-scents, heady, and damp and cool Wakened ecstasy in me On the brink of a shining pool. O Beauty, out of many a cup You have made me drunk and wild Ever since I was a child, But when have I been sure as now That no bitterness can bend And no sorrow wholly bow One who loves you to the end? And though I must give my breath And my laughter all to death, And my eyes through which joy came, And my heart, a wavering flame; If all must leave me and go back Along a blind and fearful track So that you can make anew, Fusing with intenser fire, Something nearer your desire; If my soul must go alone Through a cold infinity, Or even if it vanish, too, Beauty, I have worshipped you. Let this single hour atone For the theft of all of me. This poem is in the public domain. Thank you, dear listeners, for embracing the timeless beauty of Sara Teasdale’s “August Moonrise” with me. Your presence added depth and warmth to this poetic journey, enriching our shared experience amidst the time of August. May we continue to cherish the profound themes of love, nature, and existential contemplation woven eloquently by Teasdale’s pen. Here’s to many more moments of poetic inspiration together. Photography and Recitation by Rebecca Budd Location: Lower Seymour Conservation Reserve, North Vancouver Music by Epidemic Sound “Colors in Movement” By Johannes Bornlöf https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/Pomv6C3lbP/

5 min

TRAILER

Rebecca's Reading Room (Trailer)

Rebecca's Reading Room

18/10/2021

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1 min

Welcome to my Reading Room where stories dwell and words ignite our imagination. Rebecca’s Reading room is a virtual space that has been set aside for reading and reflection. It is a place where stories and poetry are given voice. I am your host, Rebecca Budd. I look forward to sharing these moments with you

Creator

Rebecca Budd
Years Active

2021 - 2025
Episodes

55
Rating

Clean
Copyright

© Rebecca Budd
Show Website

Rebecca's Reading Room