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Poetics and Poetry Discussion

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  • Gulsher John (7/13/2014 12:10:00 AM) Post reply

    FREE VERSE, (from wikipedia)

    Free verse is an open form of poetry. It does not use consistent meter patterns, rhyme, or any other musical pattern. It thus tends to follow the rhythm of natural speech.
    Poets have explained that free verse is, despite its freedom, not entirely free. Free verse displays some elements of form. Most free verse, for example, self-evidently continues to observe a convention of the poetic line in some sense, at least in written representations, though retaining a potential degree of linkage. Donald Hall goes as far as to say that " the form of free verse is as binding and as liberating as the form of a rondeau" and T. S. Eliot wrote, " No verse is free for the man who wants to do a good job" .Kenneth Allott the poet/critic said the adoption by some poets of vers libre arose from 'mere desire for novelty, the imitation of Whitman, the study of Jacobean dramatic blank verse, and the awareness of what French poets had already done to the Alexandrine in France'. The American critic John Livingston Lowes in 1916 observed 'Free verse may be written as very beautiful prose; prose may be written as very beautiful free verse. Which is which?'

    Some poets have considered free verse restrictive in its own way. In 1922 Robert Bridges voiced his reservations in the essay 'Humdrum and Harum-Scarum.' Robert Frost later remarked that writing free verse was like " playing tennis without a net." William Carlos Williams said " being an art form, verse cannot be free in the sense of having no limitations or guiding principles" .[6] Yvor Winters, the poet/critic said 'the free verse that is really verse, the best that is, of W.C. Williams, H. D., Marianne Moore, Wallace Stevens, and Ezra Pound is the antithesis of free.

  • Sherrie Kolb Cassel (7/11/2014 6:51:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Hello, my little lug nuts! Hope you're all well. Sorry, JC, about the eff word and getting censored at such an upper echelon website. I see your point and raise a big fat nothing burger.



    By Tony Hoagland

    Don’t take it personal, they said;
    but I did, I took it all quite personal—

    the breeze and the river and the color of the fields;
    the price of grapefruit and stamps,

    the wet hair of women in the rain—
    And I cursed what hurt me

    and I praised what gave me joy,
    the most simple-minded of possible responses.

    The government reminded me of my father,
    with its deafness and its laws,

    and the weather reminded me of my mom,
    with her tropical squalls.

    Enjoy it while you can, they said of Happiness
    Think first, they said of Talk

    Get over it, they said
    at the School of Broken Hearts

    but I couldn’t and I didn’t and I don’t
    believe in the clean break;

    I believe in the compound fracture
    served with a sauce of dirty regret,

    I believe in saying it all
    and taking it all back

    and saying it again for good measure
    while the air fills up with I’m-Sorries

    like wheeling birds
    and the trees look seasick in the wind.

    Oh life! Can you blame me
    for making a scene?

    You were that yellow caboose, the moon
    disappearing over a ridge of cloud.

    I was the dog, chained in some fool’s backyard;
    barking and barking:

    trying to convince everything else
    to take it personal too.

    Source: Poetry (July/August 2009) .

    Replies for this message:
    • Frank Ovid (7/11/2014 8:29:00 PM) Post reply

      Nice Cassel! You rule! Tony is a favorite. Underrated. Where you been?

  • Gulsher John (7/11/2014 12:57:00 PM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    Is it possible to dress the traditional IAMBIC form in the contemporary FREE verse?
    (to exclude Rhyming and maintain the iambic Rhythm)

    Replies for this message:
  • Jefferson Carter (7/11/2014 10:48:00 AM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    My July 4th poem was deleted again by management. What idiots! I used asterisks in the f-word, but that wasn't good enough. So glad they're protecting the site from bad words but allowing herds of trolls to over-run it. I'm ready to leave this place!

    Replies for this message:
    • James Timothy Jarrett (7/11/2014 2:31:00 PM) Post reply

      I have poems posted using @ in place of the U and C. Maybe it's personal

    • Gulsher John (7/11/2014 12:44:00 PM) Post reply

      No way Mr Jc... u shouldn't and that poem was lil bit disappointing, don't know why but i miss something, though it was beautifully constructed, (when i compare it to your other works)

  • James Timothy Jarrett (7/11/2014 7:17:00 AM) Post reply

    A prayer for the dying

    When the wind sighs

    and fills your sail

    and pulls your restless

    soul afloat

    To journey ‘cross

    The sea of night

    In dwindling life

    And muttered hope

    One final prayer

    Slips your mouth

    Unknown, unsaid

    You breathe it out

    One prayer for your journey

    The prayer for the dead

    Your final breath

    And all is said

  • Musfiq Us Shaleheen (7/10/2014 1:35:00 AM) Post reply

    I was amazed. Love is immortal and it makes a lover immortal. A poem of love is immortal and it makes the poet immortal.
    -Akhtar Jawad

  • ...- - -... (7/9/2014 12:03:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply


    Poem: (With It We Bury)

    The poles keep the city standing and
    the boys aren’t coming home—
    coming home to fill their boxes, aren’t
    coming home to tend the hedge;

    boys aren’t coming home
    for much this time,
    coming home to tend the hedge.
    And our drug stores sell
    ribbons for

    too much this time, and
    our cars
    tree streets for our boys.
    Our drug stores sell
    ribbons, sell
    treats for the kids,

    and our cars
    tree the streets for our boys.
    And door to door men keep coming
    selling treats for the kids
    who can’t afford
    the cost of their leagues;

    door to door men are coming,
    coming home without boys,
    who can’t afford
    the cost of their league.
    And to the girls that are

    coming home without
    you should lay back
    and do it yourselves;
    all the girls we have left,
    straying still in their beds,

    lay back
    and do it yourselves.
    Until the weak pull the
    grasses straying still in their beds
    the boys who aren’t home
    won’t come.

    Until the weak pull the grasses,
    poles keep stand the city—
    the boys who aren’t home
    won’t come,
    aren’t coming
    home to fill their boxes.

    Replies for this message:
  • Mandolyn Orwhatever (7/8/2014) Post reply

    Jeff Gangwer- I'm telling your mom you posted a billion poems today. You're sooo busted.

  • Gangadharan Nair Pulingat (7/5/2014 10:38:00 AM) Post reply

    Very good poems with different ideas are coming in the web and it is nice.

  • Tailor Bell (7/5/2014 5:32:00 AM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    Been working 24/7 for the past 2.5 years. Actually had some free time on the 4th of July. So I thought I'd post a few past works. I do miss this place for some strange reason.

    Replies for this message:
    • Tailor Bell (7/5/2014 6:09:00 AM) Post reply

      Another one, in case you were reading... * Whatever The Cost * To put my arm around her I must reach over this world To hold her next to me I must in dreaming night, dream To kiss her ... more

    • Tailor Bell (7/5/2014 5:33:00 AM) Post reply

      * Secret of Fire Sauce * Milk-toast mama Raven hair in a green desire Zero on the halfling dial A yard of stout, shots A couple Restraint (contemplated) Not pounding Toadies who've ta ... more

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