Poetics and Poetry Discussion


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  • Micheal Olaniyi (5/7/2014 7:59:00 AM) Post reply

    RISE AND STAY STILL My heart i urge, go on still, your work is to pump blood, and keep the body alive, but if you fall in love, thinking that you are near, i fear you're still far away, and more enormous duty awaits, than your ability, because the loving days are yet to come. You may turn perfunctorily at work, instead more active, circulating the blood, and producing the beat, that makes the music meaningful, when a joyful song is sung, in my soul. My heart i urge, rise, and stay still, till the loving days come, let the blood flows. Love you all as you read and comment, and my latest poem coming up is " YOU WILL BE FINE AGAIN" http://www.poemhunter.com/micheal-olaniyi/" ][u]Click to read my poem on poemhunter

  • Micheal Olaniyi (5/7/2014 7:55:00 AM) Post reply

    Read below my poem titled BLACK AND WHITE

  • Micheal Olaniyi (5/7/2014 7:52:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    To live is not all to be alive,
    though black and white i paint my heart,
    i opened and closed my eyes,
    hoping that the scenario is not lost,
    being a successful man,
    in the dream i dreamt,
    on a coastal land,
    that very night,
    but i fooled myself.

    It's all gone,
    then i stop to think,
    on my two-way-parted choice,
    either to make or break,
    i have to choose,
    but i dont want to explain,
    why i failed,
    instead to hit the head of the nail,
    on how i succeed.

    People are far cry from friend,
    they smiled in my face,
    and tells me that they love me,
    they praise and embrace,
    in a blink, they are so quick to judge me,
    but hope keeps me going.

    I wonder if people will laugh at me if i fail and fall,
    though i never aim to stop,
    i wonder if people will laugh at me if i do a fade,
    but i forsee wealth and fame,
    i wonder if people will laugh with me if i become great.


    I love you all as you read and comment and
    " http://www.poemhunter.com/micheal-olaniyi/" ][u]Click to read my poem on poemhunter

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  • Mike Acker (5/6/2014 8:18:00 PM) Post reply | Read 4 replies

    The Brook

    The gurgling sound ever delayed,
    arriving after it has run its course.
    I am always hearing the past, while
    I see the present, pushing. The future,

    waiting impatiently, not far behind.
    Eternal flow, minutes and hours race
    into their days, and the days fall upon
    their ends. The urgent call of gravity,

    that none can refuse, not even this free,
    this flowing, streaming water. No time to lose.
    Earnest, purposeful, determined with but
    a single goal of blind obedience.

    Mike Acker

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    • Mike Acker (5/6/2014 9:25:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

      Man look at all the b$rdhs$t one picks up just by being near Palmers pit of pathetic wingless birds. Both dot dash guys, you have got to be embittered individuals!

    • -. - . _. (5/6/2014 9:21:00 PM) Post reply

      Mike Acker Male,60, Canada (5/6/2014 1: 50: 00 PM) Someone's opinion I value very much! Jefferson Carter (3/17/2014 2: 20: 00 PM) Post reply ............................................... ... more

    • -. - . _. (5/6/2014 8:36:00 PM) Post reply

      self-promotion n 1. the act or practice of promoting one's own interests, profile, etc


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  • Jefferson Carter (5/6/2014 1:51:00 PM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    Well, as long as we're posting LONNNNNG posts, here's a lengthy exchange between me and an individual on Facebook. Fun times! !



    Jeneva Burroughs Stone: A poem is an utterance. I see no clear distinction between lineated verse and evocative, associative prose.


    Jefferson Carter: Jeneva, yer right, " Moby Dick" was obviously written in verse?The clear distinction is the presence or absence of lineation! A poem is an utterance?So is a burp.



    Jeneva Burroughs Stone: A burp is a noise. An utterance is communicative. " Verse" implies use of meter, at least, if not rhyme, which leaves out much of the poetry of the 20th century and beyond. As for definitions, origins, and usage of the terms you bring up, the OED is your best resource. You should also read Virginia Jackson's work on the way in which " poetry" has become conflated with " lyric, " which has diminished the scope of poetry, which also included rhetoric, argument, narrative, and other forms. As for " Moby-Dick, " it's typically seen by critics as a postmodern hybrid, engaging multiple forms. It is clearly NOT a straightforward narrative. Anne Carson's work breaks down and questions genre barriers. I see no reason to restrain art by artificial means. " Genre" becomes important with the rise of literary studies in academia. Is Orlando Furioso a poem or an epic?The Faerie Queene?Beowulf?Works that we might now refer to as narrative in scope- descriptive, plot-driven, governed by characterization and realism (see also the Canterbury Tales, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight) are now attempted only in prose. Poetry became a precursor to prose narration, which doesn't enter the literary scene until the 18th century. If contemporary verse narratives are attempted, they're almost certainly rejected unless they aspire to significant lyricism. Hell, Dante's Divina Commedia is a hybrid of narrative and religious argument, as is Paradise Lost (Milton) .


    Jefferson Carter: Jeneva, I'm trying to clear out some underbrush so we're all discussing the same thing in the same terms, so some critic doesn't think saying " that's not poetry" is actually saying something. Your little history lesson confuses the terms narrative with poetry with epic with lyric with meter with verse and on and on. For instance, the term " verse" means turn (implying form, organization by line) : it doesn't necessarily imply meter or rhyme.
    Following Charles Hartman's intelligent distinctions, I consider verse any text organized by lines and stanzas. The opposite of verse is prose, any text organized by paragraphs. No one, and I mean NO ONE, has satisfactorily defined poetry, which most often to most people seems to mean something " poetic." You're confusing form (lineation) with content/ " mode" : (narrative, epic, religious argument, texts " governed by characterization and realism" ;) . Dare I suggest you AND the OED make little sense?And in numerous cultures a burp signifies gustatory satisfaction.


    Jeneva Burroughs Stone: Jefferson: it is difficult to have an intelligent discussion with someone like you who has no depth in the history of poetry. And your sublimated sexism can take a hike. " Little" history lesson?I have a PhD from Columbia in Renaissance literature, including the history of poetics from ancient rhetoric through the development of early poetic theory. Lots of people have defined " poetry" - what exactly you mean by " satisfactorily" is quite unclear. To whom?You?Poetry itself (" verse" because it was lineated and had meter- rhyme wasn't necessary, but was typical) WAS IN FACT divided into the genres or types I discussed above: narrative, epic, lyric, and so on, including occasional and other modes. I am not confusing form and content- they were equivalent at the beginning of European poetry/verse. Poetry, in fact, was consistently referred to as " verse" for a very long time because " poetry" referred to a fictional mode, while " history" referred to a mode engaging truth/reality. That distinction came from Aristotle's Poetics (and during Aristotle's day, even plays were written in " verse" }. This distinction breaks apart as prose fiction enters the picture in the 18th century. Certainly philosophical treatises were written in " prose" (i.e., not lineated) prior to the 18th century, but most were written in Latin because that was the language of scholarship- so the history of what " prose" is in Europe is complex. I've been to Charles Hartman's university page, and he seems to have contributed some interesting thoughts to prosody and relationships of poetry to music and computing, but he is not a leading critical scholar, nor does he have background in the history of literature. And it is, indeed, important to have some background in the history of European literature in order to understand why these questions become so thorny. Jackson's work is integral to that effort, and her work is relevant to your statement that " poetry" is most often connected to what people find " poetic" (because we associate the lyric mode alone with poetry today- and you do, too- rather than consider the rich history of poetry and poetic modes over time- that's impoverishing) If you can't grasp the differences among lyric, narrative, epic and so on, you cannot understand or answer your own questions. These are questions of " utterance." Aristotle's Poetics was lost to the Western world in the great fire of the library of Alexandria. Plato (whose theory of philosophical transcendence becomes the basis for literary theories of figuration and semantics) despised poetry because it was " fiction" - i.e., not true. So Aristotle responds to that both in the Poetics and the Rhetoric by arguing that poetry (and other discourse) is a type of craft. Because the Poetics was lost until the late 16th century, Western poetics relies on Classical rhetorical theory: utterance- to whom one is speaking, on what subject, and to what audience. These three considerations determine style, your term " mode" , and even form. Anyone who rants as you do that the OED makes " little sense" is clearly having a bout of insecurity. Your attempts to diminish my intelligence seem blatantly connected to misogyny and I do not find that particularly intelligent on your part. If you want to consider a burp an " utterance" then I suppose it can be a form of poetry.


    Jefferson Carter: Jeneva, You find my attempts to " diminish your intelligence" blatantly misogynist?Why is a disagreement with someone who happens to be female invariably sexist?Maybe you should check out your own insecurities.

    Yes, many have defined " poetry" ; I've never seen the slightest agreement about any of these definitions. " Utterance" seems to be a spectacularly inane one.

    I appreciate your BIG history above; it's something I know a little about, having a PhD in Literature in 18th-century poetry. But for those of us who aren't deeply immersed in Aristotle's poetics and Renaissance literary theory (like Charles Hartman, that not-quite-top-notch critical scholar?) , these historical distinctions, however " rich" and intriguing in themselves, don't seem relevant today, especially for a working poet. The details of Classical rhetorical theory wouldn't help me write a good poem; they wouldn't even help me apprehend the art of a W.C. Williams or a John Ashbery. I want a working poetics that counters the contemporary critic who declares, evaluating a lineated text, " That's not a poem."

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  • Mike Acker (5/6/2014 1:50:00 PM) Post reply | Read 5 replies

    Someone's opinion I value very much!

    " I think there's something to admire in both versions. I like the three-line layout of the original, but I think you've improved the wording in the revision. And the images, as XXX says (or implies) , are good - very lively.

    As often with your poems, Mike, I suspect there's some grand metaphor that I'm not quite getting, but I enjoyed this for what I got out of it.

    Cheers"

    Coiling Cobras(Version 1)

    Start at the bottom of empty holds
    of rusting tankers. Turn over fallen,
    cherry blossom petals. Check just above

    the tip of a coiling cobra's fang.
    The crunchy taste of limber larvae, fresh
    in their honeycombs, may hold a clue. It

    gathers around the death of a wounded soldier.
    See it in the flight of spring birds going no-
    where on Sunday mornings. From atop fallen

    mountains, the views hold secrets. I have heard
    that the silent sound of a setting sun
    can shed light on the matter. Crawling in with

    hermit crabs, like you belong, could bring you closer,
    or live your life in the shadow of silver-
    tarnished, billowing, cotton clouds. It's been

    known to hide just below the neck scales of
    an alligator skimming the glassen surface.
    Didn't you just see it, in the corner

    of the eye of the smiling Jehovah's Witness?
    Try kissing, greedily, the full lips of
    a quiet woman.

    Do come see me when you're done. I'll be at the far
    end of the bar, at the " Last Hope Saloon" ........

    Mike Acker

    Coiling Cobras(Version 2)

    Start at the bottom of empty holds
    of rusting tankers. Turn over fallen
    cherry blossom petals. Check just above
    the tip of a coiling cobra's fang. Try
    the crunchy taste of limber larvae, fresh
    in their honeycombs. Look a bit past

    the death of a wounded soldier. Sense it
    in the flight of spring birds going nowhere,
    on Sunday mornings. Climb atop fallen
    mountains for those grand, past views. Listen
    to the silent sound of a setting sun.
    Crawl in with hermit crabs, like you belong.

    Live a lifetime in the shadows of silver-
    tarnished, billowing, cotton clouds. Feel for it
    just below the neck scales of an alligator,
    skimming the glassen surface. Didn't you just
    see it, in the corner of the eye of the
    smiling Jehovah's Witness?

    And, if all else fails, kiss, greedily,
    the full lips of a quiet woman.

    Mike Acker

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    • -. - . _. (5/6/2014 8:49:00 PM) Post reply

      Mike Acker Male,60, Canada (4/28/2014 7: 04: 00 PM) ................................If there were anything genuine about the statement........, you could have easily posted it as a reply.......... ... more

    • -. - . _. (5/6/2014 8:46:00 PM) Post reply

      self-promotion n 1. the act or practice of promoting one's own interests, profile, etc

    • -. - . _. (5/6/2014 8:33:00 PM) Post reply

      Jefferson Carter (3/17/2014 2: 20: 00 PM) Post reply ....................................................I'd have to dismiss him as a hopeless sociopath........................................... ... more

    • -. - . _. (5/6/2014 7:37:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

      Poemhunter Forums Poetics and Poetry ... more


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  • Alexander Rizzo (5/5/2014 11:47:00 PM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    Transhendeculous


    Granted every poet “constantly aspires
    towards the condition of music, ” that sphere
    of perfection which Walter Pater declares
    the other arts must humble themselves before:

    so why shouldn’t I kneel by the podium
    and beg the conductor to leave her baton
    propped upon my proselyte head like a sword
    knighting me until I can hardly rise from

    that ideal sill: one could have no grail beyond
    that grace; could never long for that pated wand
    to guide our own quest: its shadow bids us toward

    the stead path still, sticking out over the brow
    like some penile spitcurl: so why not die there
    while maestro Mater makes his lowest bow?

    Bill Knott

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  • Mike Acker (5/5/2014 8:05:00 PM) Post reply

    .Chances
    by Peter Stavropoulos

    Each chance
    A new belief
    Something new
    A heart's relief
    Each romance
    A lover's hue
    Finding Love
    Each in you

    Now, that is one hell of a poem. Alexander Rizzo(The Big Bird himself) claims that Peter is a good poet. Had I written even one line of the poem above, bird shit would have hit every fan in sight. I guess if you are a buddy of The Big Bird then he makes allowances for loyalty.

    Peter can choose his favourite to be reviewed, in case I chose one of his bad ones.

    IT'S ABOUT THE POETRY! ! ! ! WHERE" S THE BEEF?

  • Frank Ovid (5/5/2014 4:34:00 PM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    I love this guy! So playful and fun to read.....Reply, as this is longer.

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    • Mike Acker (5/5/2014 4:47:00 PM) Post reply | Read 3 replies

      As silly as the one below. A bit repetetive. We got it after the first stanza or two. " So playful and fun to read?" What tema do you play on, Scotty? Eeeegads

    • Frank Ovid (5/5/2014 4:35:00 PM) Post reply

      As BY PAUL MULDOON As naught gives way to aught and oxhide gives way to chain mail and byrnie gives way to battle-ax and Cavalier gives way to Roundhead and Cromwell Road gives way to the Connau ... more

  • Frank Ovid (5/5/2014 4:21:00 PM) Post reply | Read 3 replies

    There's something about this poem that I love. Why?I think it's how he goes from one point to another so quickly that gets me. Something Jeff does pretty well. It's NOT a " story" , it's poetry because of the words involved and how the guy gets from one place to another. Then, you have to have a strong ending. Something that's critical (I think) with this kind of poem.



    Hedgehog
    BY PAUL MULDOON


    The snail moves like a
    Hovercraft, held up by a
    Rubber cushion of itself,
    Sharing its secret

    With the hedgehog. The hedgehog
    Shares its secret with no one.
    We say, Hedgehog, come out
    Of yourself and we will love you.

    We mean no harm. We want
    Only to listen to what
    You have to say. We want
    Your answers to our questions.

    The hedgehog gives nothing
    Away, keeping itself to itself.
    We wonder what a hedgehog
    Has to hide, why it so distrusts.

    We forget the god
    under this crown of thorns.
    We forget that never again
    will a god trust in the world.

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    • Mike Acker (5/5/2014 10:32:00 PM) Post reply

      Yes, sorry I forgot, I am an " indecent" poet if even that. Only those with taste(the decent ones) will see the emperor's clothing. Now please keep in mind that Palmer was fully ignorant ... more

    • Alexander Rizzo (5/5/2014 7:19:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

      brilliant. you have to be a decent poet to understand it. muldoon - the master of absurdity

    • Mike Acker (5/5/2014 4:44:00 PM) Post reply

      Very silly poem: " The snail moves like a Hovercraft, held up by a Rubber cushion of itself, Sharing its secret"

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