poetry

[Asher]

Originally posted by molly bloom
So far the only person setting up their view of what constitutes culture to be superior to other people's, is Asher. No shock there.

For somebody who purports to be so suave with literature, you can't read very well.

I never asserted one was better than the other, that was all you, baby.

Using what passes for his logic, if 'most' poetry is crap because anyone can write it, and as he states, anyone can be a critic, than Asher's criticism of poetry is perforce, crap.

Hey, you're catching on big guy!

I said it was all relative and subjective, and quite clearly you think my critique is crap, which is golden.

See, my logic works after all, once you actually think about it. It's something that's so underrated with the artsy people such as yourself.

[Ben Kenobi]

Willows whiten, aspens quiver
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Through the wave that runs forever,
By the island on the river.

Down to towered Camelot.

A bowshot through her bower eaves,
He rode between the barley sheaves,
The sunlight glistening on the greaves,

Of bold Sir Launcelot.

[monolith94]

http://charon.sfsu.edu/TENNYSON/TENNLADY.HTML

"Most poetry is about the imagery, it should be clear what you are trying to get across."

There's a tricky balancing act involved. A poet wants to express a message, but doesn't want to be didactic - no one wants to be preached to, and poets (the good ones, in my opinion) don't want to be preachers. The goal is to embed the meaning inside the plot and story, to convey to the reader what the poet feels and thinks without being explicit or aggresive. To me, this is poetic grace.

And I think that good modern poetry deals with imagery all the time. Certainly, it's the foundation upon which I build my own poems, and it's what makes any poem I approach come to life. Building a poem with just abstract ideas is like trying to cook a meal with just a pan and fire and no food.

[Asher]

You're heart is not a plaything,
You're heart is not a toy,
And if you want it broken.
Jus' give it to a boy
He'll say that he loves you dearly
And that he'll always be true...
But when he finds another girl
He'll say good-bye to you...

I am a pawn, a usless being
Controlled by simpletons of greater power
No will have i,broken and beaten
A slug to follow the masters trail

Watch me as i grovel at your feet
Control my spinless whimpering body
Defeat my thoughts, my wishs and idea's
Punish me as i fall out of line

An empty shell, i am nothing
A slave
A drone
Your servant till death
You have destroyed my creative mind
to an empty
Barren
Wasteland

Forgotten.

Crosses of gold,
And those of stone,
Do not effect the world I roam.
Those only of blood and flesh and life,
Are the ones that cause me strife.
To see the sun my life is done,
A wooden stake my life shall take.
I am immortal, yet I can die,
By the mortal hands belonging to thy.
Where he stands in all the lands a gleam within His eye,
A wooden stake my life shall take,
And then no longer am I.

Cry not till now,
Upon these words,
These words that make hearts swell,
But rather hear them as they are,
Maybe written well.
Listen close,
Miss not a word,
And keep their meanings true,
Fear not the truth,
For that they are,
But hold it dear to you.
So listen now,
Without a tear,
To this story true,
For looking back,
To you I swear,
To me this is you.
Looking back upon this year,
This last year in my life,
I see not how my heart could hold,
Without your guiding light.
Looking towards your face to see,
How you pulled me through,
I see the smile,
That all the while,
Made me think things through.
Within this year,
I have seen your life within your eyes.
Never dark nor cold,
Their light doth hold
The only golden prize,
And if you cried,
I wondered why
Fate holdeth you so.
For your kindly heart
And loving mind,
Are here to hold us all,
Throughout this year,
Without a breath,
Standing here in awe.

He was the laughter - he was the sun
His hands were dirty when the day was done.
He caressed the roses soft and sweet -
He touched the hearts of those he would meet.

When I was a little girl - his guitar he would play -
And sing me the silly songs he made up that day.
He would take me stores with toys and candy -
Or even to places that were fishy and sandy.

I don't know about you guys, but reading this post is way better than any NHL playoff game I've ever seen.

[Asher]

Originally posted by monolith94
There's a tricky balancing act involved. A poet wants to express a message, but doesn't want to be didactic - no one wants to be preached to, and poets (the good ones, in my opinion) don't want to be preachers. The goal is to embed the meaning inside the plot and story, to convey to the reader what the poet feels and thinks without being explicit or aggresive. To me, this is poetic grace.

And I think that good modern poetry deals with imagery all the time. Certainly, it's the foundation upon which I build my own poems, and it's what makes any poem I approach come to life. Building a poem with just abstract ideas is like trying to cook a meal with just a pan and fire and no food.

What is the title of this poem, and is it published?

[Ben Kenobi]

The Tennyson poem?

Nothing other than the Lady of Shallot.

[Asher]

No, the one I quoted.

[molly bloom]

Originally posted by Asher

For somebody who purports to be so suave with literature, you can't read very well.

I never asserted one was better than the other, that was all you, baby.

See, my logic works after all, once you actually think about it. It's something that's so underrated with the artsy people such as yourself.

It might be nice if for once you didn't presume to state what my opinions are, or to misrepresent them.

When have I asserted that my 'culture' was better than another?

I haven't even defined what my 'culture' is, so you're pulling your little factoid out of your arse.

I don't purport to be so 'suave' with literature either- although you might want to check you understand what suave means.

As for logic being so underrated with 'artsy' people such as myself, that's another misrepresentation and inaccuracy.

'See, I may not be a poetry expert, but at least I have logic and reasoning ability, which is infinitly more valuable.

Most of the modern "cultured" people are pompous *****. I'm cultured, just in a different way than you are. I may not be able to recite the precise weight of any tenor in the past 500 years, but I am more connected to the modern culture than you ever will be.

Your culture of old has been replaced with electronic culture, you can accept that now or you can keep denying it.

Culture is in the eye of the beholder. What I'm cultured in will lead to sizable wealth and happiness, what you're cultured in leads to snobiness and arrogant queens. '

Asher Non-Aristotelian Bonnaduce

Memory lapses?

I'd say the snobbiness and arrogance is all yours, silly little boy. But then ignorance is a fertile growth medium for arrogance....

[Asher]

Originally posted by molly bloom
It might be nice if for once you didn't presume to state what my opinions are, or to misrepresent them.

When have I asserted that my 'culture' was better than another?

I haven't even defined what my 'culture' is, so you're pulling your little factoid out of your arse.

You don't need to assert it verbosely, anyone who can read your trite crap can hear the arrogance and condescending tones oozing out of it.

I don't purport to be so 'suave' with literature either- although you might want to check you understand what suave means.

Thank you for proving my point.

As for logic being so underrated with 'artsy' people such as myself, that's another misrepresentation and inaccuracy.

Memory lapses?

I'd say the snobbiness and arrogance is all yours, silly little boy. But then ignorance is a fertile growth medium for arrogance....

Nonsense, I'm trolling, and you're biting back with a passion full of effeminite "little boy" references and quotes to obscure literature references as if it proves anything. Further, it's highly amusing to me, because you apparently don't get that you're doing the same thing I'm doing, while condemning what I'm doing at the same time.

I wouldn't be surprised if you threw your purse at me if we were having this conversation in the real world.

[Ben Kenobi]

And I agree Monolith, you should embed the imagery in the poem.

But I've read too much poetry lately that has simply made the embedding the only goal, without bothering to work on the imagery.

You end up trying to work it out, and then be disappointed when there's really nothing in the poem to work with.

Now, points to the one who can figure out this one.

Before I leave, my lords, I warn you through
my words, it would be hard to find today
In all the towns, Griseldas, three or two
When put to similarly strict assays
You would see the gold, so poorly alloyed
With brass though the coin appear so fine
It would rather break than bend in time.

[Ben Kenobi]

http://nylon.net/poetry/teenage.htm

You're heart is not a plaything,
You're heart is not a toy,
And if you want it broken.
Jus' give it to a boy
He'll say that he loves you dearly
And that he'll always be true...
But when he finds another girl
He'll say good-bye to you...


Written by: Roxy.

[monolith94]

I don't know that poem... I guess I haven't encountered it.

And yes - poetry's purpose isn't to be a literary jigsaw puzzle for intellectuals. The purpose is to create beauty through the bold elaboration of the poet's emotions.

[Ben Kenobi]

http://nylon.net/poetry/granny.htm

He was the laughter - he was the sun
His hands were dirty when the day was done.
He caressed the roses soft and sweet -
He touched the hearts of those he would meet.

When I was a little girl - his guitar he would play -
And sing me the silly songs he made up that day.
He would take me stores with toys and candy -
Or even to places that were fishy and sandy.

A carwash on a rainy day - was his delight -
And sitting at the campfire late at night.
Staring up at the stars and making up tales -
About cheesy macaroni and giant snails.

I was indeed a grown woman - but he could see
The playful, little girl that I used to be,
And he would walk with me through the flowers -
He would joke away my tears and the hours.

He was more than uncle - my friend for life -
He cared about my good times and my strife -
Like part of his garden - he treated me tenderly -
Growing up with kind hands and a grand memory.

He taught me to see his face in clouds above -
And I can hear him whisper on the wind with love.
He is the guardian of God's garden today -
The heavenly keeper where the angels play.

[Asher]

Thanks, that's precisely the site I copy/pasted from.

[Ben Kenobi]

http://nylon.net/poetry/teenage.htm

Drone

I am a pawn, a usless being
Controlled by simpletons of greater power
No will have i,broken and beaten
A slug to follow the masters trail

Watch me as i grovel at your feet
Control my spinless whimpering body
Defeat my thoughts, my wishs and idea's
Punish me as i fall out of line

An empty shell, i am nothing
A slave
A drone
Your servant till death
You have destroyed my creative mind
to an empty
Barren
Wasteland

Forgotten.