John Ashbery

Rookie (28 July 1927 / Rochester, New York)

John Ashbery Poems

1. Meaningful Love 12/5/2015
2. A Voice from the Fireplace 1/27/2016
3. A Worldly Country 5/21/2016
4. Alms for the Beekeeper 5/21/2016
5. And Ut Pictura Poesis Is Her Name 5/21/2016
6. Anticipated Stranger 5/21/2016
7. Blueprints and Others 5/21/2016
8. Boundary Issues 5/21/2016
9. Bunch of Stuff 5/21/2016
10. The Bungalows 5/21/2016
11. By Guess and by Gosh 5/21/2016
12. Chinese Whispers 5/21/2016
13. Day Bump 5/21/2016
14. El Dorado 5/21/2016
15. How to Continue 5/21/2016
16. Last Month 5/21/2016
17. Late Echo 5/21/2016
18. Late-ish 5/21/2016
19. Leave the Hand In 5/21/2016
20. Like a Sentence 5/21/2016
21. The Mauve Notebook 5/21/2016
22. Mean Particles 5/21/2016
23. My Erotic Double 5/21/2016
24. People Behaving Badly a Concern 5/21/2016
25. Pyrography 5/21/2016
26. Rivers and Mountains 5/21/2016
27. Street Musicians 5/21/2016
28. Uptick 5/21/2016
29. Wet Casements 5/21/2016
30. Steel and Air 8/13/2016
31. Vetiver 5/21/2016
32. The Painter 5/21/2016
33. The New Higher 6/2/2015
34. The Problem of Anxiety 10/1/2015
35. These Lacustrine Cities 5/21/2016
36. This Room 5/21/2016
37. Dramedy 5/21/2016
38. Hotel Lautréamont 2/10/2015
39. Wet Casements 11/21/2014
40. Pantoum 2/5/2015

Comments about John Ashbery

  • Adrian Grant (1/31/2018 6:51:00 AM)

    Wilfully obscure, rambling, unmusical, self-indulgent crap. No wonder he wrote so many collections.
    And no wonder he won so many prizes during the height of Modernism. This kind of stuff is catnip to literary critics and literature academics, because it would appear to require exegesis, thus promoting them into a kind of priesthood.

    2 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Lawrence Beck Lawrence Beck (11/25/2016 6:19:00 PM)

    This man's work is garbage. He's obviously extremely lazy, and why not? Every dumb-ass critic in the country has decided that he's the greatest. Gee, I wonder why nobody reads poetry.

  • Raymond Farrell (12/19/2015 1:18:00 AM)

    The atuff that has been posted on PH is readable although it is debateable what it means, but most of Ashbery's stuff makes me wonder if he isn't a mental case in search of a diagnosis.

  • Sharon Parker (10/25/2014 4:04:00 PM)

    Mr. Ashbery forces the reader to change too many horses in the middle of an unending stream on order to get to the other side only to find it was the sound of the river that was the attraction rather than the substance of the opposite shore

  • Gk Thomas (11/17/2012 4:12:00 PM)

    These are the readable poems, but most of Ashberry isn't readable.
    I'm sorry, but if a poem can only be understood by the poet's explication then he needs to supply that explication along with the poem. Otherwise he/she is merely playing the effete. And who of us would not be considered a poetic genius if we, and we alone, are the sole authority of that meaning? Lazarus rose from the fire of the salad bowl/ consumed exquisite Orpheus/ to the knight's maiden ravished knot of hope. Who wrote this passage from a terribly long poem? A poetic genius or a hoaxer? Careful you might guess wrong.

  • Gilles Goyette (1/14/2012 8:09:00 AM)

    You change the way I read. You change my expectations of language. Always a challenge, but completely worth the effort.

  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (10/24/2008 3:23:00 AM)

    beautiful your nerration is.

Best Poem of John Ashbery

Self-Portrait In A Convex Mirror

As Parmigianino did it, the right hand
Bigger than the head, thrust at the viewer
And swerving easily away, as though to protect
What it advertises. A few leaded panes, old beams,
Fur, pleated muslin, a coral ring run together
In a movement supporting the face, which swims
Toward and away like the hand
Except that it is in repose. It is what is
Sequestered. Vasari says, "Francesco one day set himself
To take his own portrait, looking at himself from that purpose
In a convex mirror, such as is used by barbers . . .
He accordingly caused a ball of wood to be ...

Read the full of Self-Portrait In A Convex Mirror

Daffy Duck In Hollywood

Something strange is creeping across me.
La Celestina has only to warble the first few bars
Of "I Thought about You" or something mellow from
Amadigi di Gaula for everything--a mint-condition can
Of Rumford's Baking Powder, a celluloid earring, Speedy
Gonzales, the latest from Helen Topping Miller's fertile
Escritoire, a sheaf of suggestive pix on greige, deckle-edged
Stock--to come clattering through the rainbow trellis
Where Pistachio Avenue rams the 2300 block of Highland

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