One of my coworkers wanted a recording of Sam Walter Foss' "House By The Side of the Road" to give to a friend of hers as a birthday gift; she asked me if I could recite and record the piece for her, and I agreed. I really like how the recording turned out, so I thought I'd offer it up here as a free download to my readers. Click here to download the file.

Foss was a poet and librarian in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. You can read more about him here.

The text of the poem:

House by the Side of the Road
by Sam Walter Foss

There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the place of their self-content;
There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze the paths
Where highways never ran-
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat
Nor hurl the cynic's ban-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I see from my house by the side of the road
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife,
But I turn not away from their smiles and tears,
Both parts of an infinite plan-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead,
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
And still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by-
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish - so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

In case you haven't been following the news on my Facebook fan page or Twitter, I was nominated early this month for the 2010 Rose and Bay Award for Poetry. The award is given out to a crowdfunded poet, meaning it's a pretty exclusive award -- there are only five candidates.

What is Crowdfunding?
Crowdfunded works remove the middle-man. Instead of selling my work to a publisher who sells it to you, I sell my work to you directly by publishing it freely online and letting you decide how much you want to pay me through reader donations. You -- every long-time reader and newcomer to the site -- are the crowd that funds me, the poet and artist.

The Rose and Bay Award was put together to highlight the best of the best of these crowdfunded artists, in five categories: Art, Fiction, Poetry, Other, and Patron (a special category awarded to the best members of the "crowd" -- supporters of crowdfunded literary efforts).

Now's The Time To Vote
As of this writing, there are 10 days (or 9, depending on your timezone) left before voting closes for the 2010 Rose and Bay Awards. Right now I'm holding a slight lead in the Poetry Category. I'd like to maintain that lead all the way to the end.

You've read my poetry. If even a single piece of mine has moved you in some way, I hope you'll cast your vote for me. It just takes a few minutes of your time, it doesn't cost you a thing, and it helps me out: winning the 2010 Rose and Bay Award will bring a slew of new traffic into the site, and every new reader grows the crowd.

What are you waiting for? Go vote for me today.

How To Vote
Unfortunately, the hosts of the Rose and Bay Award didn't make the voting process entirely intuitive. Here's a quick rundown. If you have a livejournal account, all you need to do is to the voting page for poetry, log into your LJ account, and cast your vote using the poll.

Now, if you're like me, you probably don't have a Livejournal account. You can still cast your vote. At the bottom of the voting page is a link where you can leave a comment. Just leave a comment saying "Cast my vote for Gabriel Gadfly!" and your vote will be tallied into the final results.

Thanks for your support. :)

Earlier today, I published a new off-site poem, Sharp. That link will take you to Associated Content (the same place I host my Zombie Survival Handbook and other miscellaneous articles.

I don't usually post poetry at AC, but I earn a decent bit of steady income from the site based on pageviews, so I want to test the market and see how well a few pieces of poetry do there. Hop over and check the piece out.

Also, don't forget, if you haven't already, go vote for me in the 2010 Rose and Bay Award for poetry. Voting continues until the end the month, and thus far, I'm still holding a slight lead, but I'd like to see the margin increase. If you're a livejournal member, you can vote by simply logging in and using the poll. If you're like me and don't have a livejournal account, you can vote by leaving a comment at the bottom of the phrase saying "Cast my vote for Gabriel Gadfly!"

A. M. Harte surprised me today with this: Come Salutare La Morte.

That's my poem, How To Greet Death, translated into Italian.

If you don't know who A.M. Harte is, you should: she's the author of the weblit novel Above Ground, an editor at WebFictionGuide.com and ErgoFiction, a talented poet in her own right, and one of the most approachable, charming women I've met.

Anna, you're one of the coolest fans ever.

Yesterday, I wrote an article about How To Support Your Favorite Weblit Writer. In the comments, one of my readers, Carmen left this fantastic idea:

I thought this was such a good idea, I wanted to devote an entire article to it. You see, getting educators involved in the promotion of weblit is not only a great way to promote the format, it's integral to earning respectability for web-based literary endeavors. Here's why:

Academia Has The Clout Weblit Needs

There's something about the word "Doctor" or "Professor" in front of someone's name that commands respect. It suggests that you are an expert in your field, that you are among the upper crust of knowledgeable individuals when it comes to your subject of study. Even teachers without doctorates get their share of this respect: after all, if you're teaching, it's implied that you must know something!

Educators -- collegiate and otherwise -- have a captive audience. They can put our work in front of a classroom full of eyes and make sure that work gets read -- and more importantly, that it gets considered for its merit, that it gets discussed, even if only in undergrad papers that no one but the students in that class will ever read.

Educators are mentors, and the good ones want their students to excel. If we can show them that weblit is preferable to pursuing traditional print routes -- that weblit writers, on average, get more readers and earn more financially than traditional authors -- it's not unthinkable that they might start suggesting weblit as an option for their students' literary careers. I'm looking forward to the day when a professor tells a student, "You know, with your talent, you could be a very successful independent poet. Why don't you minor in Web Design and set up a site for your work?"

Educators don't just teach students. They debate amongst themselves in the vast arena of scholarly journals that the mainstream public rarely sees. They write reviews, sometimes scathing, sometimes glowing, of new methods and ideologies within their field of study, they participate in think-tanks, focus groups, give seminars, attend conventions and symposiums, and a whole lot more. And if you can convince an educator that weblit is a valid and viable method of publication, you've got a champion in that arena. You get enough of them, and you can change the status quo.

Academic professors can be some of the most stubborn luddites in the world. They can also be some of the best promoters of innovative technologies and methods, if you can show them why it's worth subscribing to those methods.

How do we do that?

Show Them We're Worth Noticing

When I was in college, a professor of my acquaintance (I never took his courses, but he knew my work) scoffed at the idea of serious poets publishing original poetry on the web. He told me I was wasting my talent, that I should stick to putting together a manuscript for a chapbook to send out to various university presses, submit to a few literary journals, do a low-residency MFA program and eventually land a day job teaching English courses and creative writing -- in short, to do the same thing as every other young poet.

I saw this professor the other day, and he asked me, not without a hint of a snicker in his voice, how "that website thing" was going. I casually replied that I'd had over 20,000 visitors last month, and that I thought that meant I was doing pretty well. He looked surprised, then he became very serious, gave me a terse nod, and said, "Well, keep it up. Maybe you're on to something."

I was grinning all day, because I know he knows that traditional publishing routes don't let poets -- especially no-name, fresh-out-of-college poets -- put their work in front that many eyes. And really, it's the eyes that matter, because it's no secret that there's no money in poetry (even less than in fiction or nonfic).

I haven't won that professor over to the point of convincing him to subscribe to this website (as far as I know), but I think it's only a matter of time. If there's one thing that academia likes, it's hard evidence: proof that the method works, and soon, I'll have enough evidence that he'll have to admit that weblit has made me more successful than I ever would have been had I pursued traditional publication.