Skip to main content

Poetry’s Magic

In this episode, Poetry’s Magic . . .

As autumn's crisp air ushers in the holiday season, I'm drawn into the magical realm of words. The soothing rhythm of poetry, the delight of children's stories, and the possibilities of this year's children's podcast create a joyful symphony.

Recently, I have been exploring the classic works of great literary figures from my library. With his earthy poetry, Carl Sandburg paints such vivid pictures of the American landscape that you can almost feel the breeze. Dr. Seuss, the master of whimsy, joyfully transports us to fantastical worlds brimming with colorful creatures. And let’s not forget Edgar Albert Guest, who beautifully captures the essence of everyday life, making it feel extraordinary: simple yet profound reflections on love, hope, and friendship.

You may have noticed recently that I've been adding poetry to my On the Fly blog posts to brighten things up. It’s been a delightful and rewarding journey, and I've discovered so much about the beautiful art of poetry along the way. I genuinely hope you find as much joy in reading my poems as I do crafting them!

In November 2022, we had the pleasure of introducing you to Edgar Albert Guest, an American poet whose inspiring words have touched the hearts of many generations. Guest was loved for his uplifting and hopeful verses, which beautifully capture themes of hard work, perseverance, and life's simple joys. His work uniquely connects with readers of every age, and his verses are still joyfully recited and shared today!

This holiday season, we’re excited to share one of his delightful poems that beautifully celebrates the lasting bond of friendship.

When Friends Drop In, by Edgar Albert Guest–Enjoy!

“It may be I'm old-fashioned, but the times I like best

Are not the splendid parties with the women gaily dressed,

And the music tuned for dancing and the laughter of the throng,

With a paid comedian's antics or a hired musician's song,

But the quiet times of friendship, with the chuckles and the grin,

And the circle at the fireside when a few good friends drop in.”


“There's something 'round the fireplace that no club can imitate,

And no crowd can ever equal just a few folks near the grate;

Though I sometimes like an opera, there's no music quite so sweet

As the singing of the neighbors that you're always glad to meet;

Oh, I know when they come calling, the fun will soon begin,

And I'm happiest those evenings when a few good friends drop in.”


“There's no pomp of preparation, there's no style or sham or fuss;

We are glad to welcome callers who are glad to be with us,

And we sit around and visit, or we start a merry game,

And we show them by our manner that we're mighty pleased they came,

For there's something real about it, and the yarns we love to spin,

And the time flies, Oh, so swiftly when a few good friends drop in.”


“Let me live my life among them, cheerful, kindly folks and true,

And I'll ask no greater glory till my time of life is through;

Let me share the love and favor of the few who know me best,

And I'll spend my time contented till my sun sinks in the west;

I will take what fortune sends me, and the little I may win,

And be happy on those evenings when a few good friends drop in.”


I’m Patrick Ball; thanks for listening. See you next episode.

Comments

Don Hanley said…
Beautifully written Patrick - and I delight in having you drop by!

Most Popular of All Time

On Becoming Real

Some things get better with wear: old shoes, old friendships, and old books. Especially old books. A new volume arrives with crisp corners and a spine that hasn’t yet learned to bend. An old one has been somewhere. It has traveled through time in the hands of people who may no longer be around to tell us what they found inside. The copy of The Velveteen Rabbit (first published in 1922) on my desk is one of those books. My friend Don Hanley gave it to me. This late-1950s Doubleday edition features William Nicholson’s original illustrations and cream paper boards softened by age. Worn corners, a split spine, and colored tabs mark passages worth revisiting. Don didn’t hand me a keepsake. He gave me homework. When we talked about the book recently, he pointed me straight to the nursery conversation between a young rabbit and an old Skin Horse. The rabbit had noticed the mechanical toys around him—the ones with internal gears, bright paint, and stick-out handles that seem terribly impressiv...

Engineering Beef Stew

On July 2nd—Day Two of what I call The Great Un-Working —I sat down with my morning notebook to map out this new chapter of my life. One goal made the list in bold ink: Learn to Cook. At seventy, I was adding a skill most people master before they’re old enough to drive. Before you judge me, understand our household ecosystem. Lori is a phenomenal cook. For decades, she’s made meals so effortless and delicious that restaurants seem unsatisfying . My contribution to the culinary arts during my bachelor years–tuna mixed into Kraft Mac & Cheese. Let’s just say I wasn’t threatening her spot on the Food Network. But retirement changed the equation. I’m officially off the clock while Lori is still working. And I had a lovely thought: Wouldn’t it be wonderful if she came home after a long day to find dinner waiting? She loved the idea. Then came the question that haunted me for weeks: “What do you want to make?” I had no idea. Apparently, the first step in learning to cook is deciding wh...

When the Universe Calls in Sick

Take Thoreau’s Advice . . .  Four weeks ago, we stood on the shore of Walden Pond in Concord, Massachusetts, trying to channel Henry David Thoreau. Before leaving, I bought a pocket-sized copy of his essay, Walking . It’s slim because nineteenth-century transcendentalists didn’t have notifications interrupting their urge to wander. Thoreau’s counsel is disarmingly simple: step away from modern life's machinery and let the landscape recalibrate your perspective. Back home in Vista, I took that philosophy straight into the backyard. Thursday morning, ink-black, pristine skies arrived. I aimed my refractor at Jupiter, whose light has bathed Earth since mastodons roamed the plains. It felt cosmic. Profound . I left the telescope mounted overnight, convinced the heavens were on retainer for an encore at daybreak. Naturally, the universe called in sick. By sunrise, a wall of coastal fog had rolled in off the Pacific, sealing the valleys beneath a damp, gray Tupperware lid. After about th...

The Gopher Problem and the High Powered Solution

Vacationing in Maine this week, just a short drive down the coast from Freeport, it is hard not to think about the outsized impact one frustrated outdoorsman had on the gear we all use today. Bad equipment can ruin a perfectly good day on the water or the trail, but it takes a special kind of vision to turn cold feet into a century-old empire. This is the story of the company we now know as L.L.Bean, but more importantly, it is a masterclass in integrity, learning from failure, and standing behind your work. In 1912, Leon Leonwood Bean faced a persistent problem: returning from expeditions in the Maine woods with cold, wet feet. Instead of complaining, he got creative. He had a local shoemaker stitch waterproof rubber soles onto the flexible leather uppers of a hunting boot. He called it the Maine Hunting Shoe and mailed a flyer promising perfect satisfaction. Then reality arrived. Ninety of his first 100 pairs failed when the rubber separated from the leather. Not an effective product...