Poetics and Poetry Discussion


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  • Paul Butters (6/24/2014 4:50:00 AM) Post reply

    Must admit, this forum has affected me -

    " For Myself"

    When writing poems there is no right or wrong.
    It may be plain or sound just like a song.
    Heroic couplets aren’t the only way.
    Yet people always have to have their say.

    It may be perfect, it may be not.
    Just lose a syllable
    Or go completely
    Free.

    Read unnamed samples of some classic works and you will see
    That often you can add the names yourself.
    They are distinctive.

    A Shakespeare,
    A Keats,
    A Milton
    Or a Yeats.

    What matters is whether a poem works,
    In some way,
    At least for yourself.

    PB

  • Jefferson Carter (6/23/2014 3:43:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Lamont, why before 1990?There's no shelf date for good contemporary free verse. If the poet is still alive and writes free verse, his/her poem should be a candidate for the challenge. You just don't like the plain style, no matter which decade it appears. But I'll accept the challenge and look through some of my favorite free verse poems written after 1990. I'll get back to you and the other Stiffs.

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  • Jefferson Carter (6/23/2014 2:14:00 PM) Post reply

    Even Lamont (well, maybe) can see how Kinnell's vivid images, surprising and profound figures of speech, short and long lines, heighten his poem's language without
    needing to resort to meter or rhyme. Truly, if this poem doesn't affect you, visit Poe's mausoleum and inter yourself there. You're already dead.

  • Jefferson Carter (6/23/2014 10:40:00 AM) Post reply | Read 7 replies

    OK, Lamont, Professor Plum, and all you lovers of formal poetry exhumed from the grave, here's a free verse poem as good as any closed form poem by Shelley or even Keats. If you don't agree, you have ears of tin and a mind of dust:


    SAINT FRANCIS AND THE SOW
    by Galway Kinnell

    The bud
    stands for all things,
    even for those things that don’t flower,
    for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;
    though sometimes it is necessary
    to reteach a thing its loveliness,
    to put a hand on its brow
    of the flower
    and retell it in words and in touch
    it is lovely
    until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing;
    as Saint Francis
    put his hand on the creased forehead
    of the sow, and told her in words and in touch
    blessings of earth on the sow, and the sow
    began remembering all down her thick length,
    from the earthen snout all the way
    through the fodder and slops to the spiritual curl of the tail,
    from the hard spininess spiked out from the spine
    down through the great broken heart
    to the sheer blue milken dreaminess spurting and shuddering
    from the fourteen teats into the fourteen mouths sucking and blowing beneath them:
    the long, perfect loveliness of sow.

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  • Paul Butters (6/23/2014 4:04:00 AM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    One to enjoy. Not looking for a critique. Consider it a commercial break -

    “Excitement 2”

    My head feels dull.
    Not even “comfortably numb”.
    No mood for rhyme
    Yet must cast my soul
    Back through time.

    No.
    No more rhyme.
    Just cast my mind back.
    Seek that spark.
    Call out my Muse.
    Be inspired.
    Excited.
    Yes.

    Excitement shines
    Like a billion suns.
    The merest touch
    Explodes
    My every nerve.

    Magical mysteries
    Unveil themselves.
    Brilliant, fluttering butterflies
    Flash and flicker
    Those rainbow colours and more.

    Deep inspiration.
    Adrenaline rush.
    Electrical discharge.
    Cascading sweat.

    Thunder-drummed tornadoes.
    Lightning storms.
    Rose tinged dawns,
    And silver-ghosted Moons.

    Inspirational volcanoes
    Of Muse-blown delight.
    That’s how it was,
    To be in Love.

    Paul Butters

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    • Alexander Rizzo (6/23/2014 9:16:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

      seriously kind sir, if you're not looking for a critque, you really shouldnt post the poem. whats the point?merely for our reading 'pleasure'?just sayin


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  • Linda Ori (6/22/2014 2:56:00 PM) Post reply | Read 3 replies

    What's with the running adds right in the middle of the poems on our pages?So annoying! At least they could run them along the side of the page, but definitely not right in the middle of the poem format - YEESH!

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    • Frank Ovid (6/22/2014 9:11:00 PM) Post reply

      Worse than that is the " artwork" and the music that they play along with it. Uck!

    • Jefferson Carter (6/22/2014 4:08:00 PM) Post reply

      Well, Linda, in some cases it's an improvement, even making the poems seem a little avant-gardish....


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  • Gangadharan Nair Pulingat (6/22/2014 2:33:00 AM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    I got an opportunity to read the Ozymandias" the great poem written by P]B]Shelly the great English poet. It is a great poem that I experienced in its contents and coverage of subject the human predicament. Whatever the power and positions one gains it is limited and he is also to be gone forever from the world as the character of ozymandias in the poem and I amused it very much.

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    • Professor Plum (6/22/2014 4:02:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

      'Ozymandias' is a great poem. Much better than any contemporary poem. What makes it so good is all the rhythm and rhymes it has. So much rhythm. So many rhymes. Boggles the mind, really. I'm sitting d ... more

    • Paul Butters (6/22/2014 4:32:00 AM) Post reply

      " Ode to the West Wind" is another poem by Shelley that is well worth reading. Enjoy.

  • Bull Hawking (6/21/2014 6:05:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    A quote by William Hazlitt posted as a reply:

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    • Bull Hawking (6/21/2014 6:15:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

      From a splendid essay, " On Reading Old Books" : I do not think altogether worse of a book for having survived the author a generation or two. I have more confidence in the dead than th ... more

  • Mike Acker (6/21/2014 4:54:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Precarious(revised)

    A boy sits at the edge of his abyss.
    Close by, a girl waves, and smiles
    through her darkness. Her tiny feet
    struggle to keep her head afloat.
    He smiles back, expressing his tales and torments.
    Their eyes reflect only in the other's.

    Silent swells sync their souls and hide her face,
    but he waits forever, and she reappears,
    no more and no less than before. She will not
    swim to him, for mermaids no longer roam.
    He can not fly to her, since men do not soar.
    She will sink, as surely as he shall fall.

    Mike Acker

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    • Professor Plum (6/21/2014 5:22:00 PM) Post reply

      There's a lot to like about this poem. A little strange, but that's right down my alley.

  • Paul Butters (6/21/2014 1:57:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Odd. This morning I posted a message (quote actually) promoting constructive criticism. Did I press the wrong button?Or was it censured?Strange. I would assert that constructive criticism is good practice here. Poets need to be praised and supported for all good work but maybe be given some pointers towards improvement. Nuff Said.

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