/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.3076760]

/lit/,

what is your opinion of poetry?

also, post your favorite poet.

picture clearly related.

[Anonymous No.3076781]

>>3076760
Most of it sucks and is a waste of paper. I like Eugenio Montale though. Oh and Eliot, too.

"Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse."

(The love song of J. Alfred Prufrock)

[Anonymous No.3076788]

I don't see the point in poetry or lyrics in general, I listen music for the melody, if I wanted a story I'd read a book.

[Anonymous No.3076801]

I used to think that most poetry was emo faggotry with little point. However, after two quarters of a creative writing class I've gained new appreciation for it and frequently play around with how words sound together, stanzas, and shaping in my writer's notebook.Can't yet say I have a favorite poet, though.

[Anonymous No.3076803]

I don't really like poetry at all. I do like Baudelaire, though. This book was really good.

[Anonymous No.3076806]

I've gradually come to prefer it to prose ever since I discovered poetry with Yeats. I like that I can read 6 different poets in a day without it being ridiculous, which it would be to read parts of that many novels in one day.

My favourite poet is John Berryman.

[Anonymous No.3076807]

someone once confronted Theodore Sturgeon at an SF convention and said "ninety percent of science fiction is crap!"

Sturgeon replied, "ninety percent of EVERYTHING is crap."

with poetry, it's closer to ninety-eight percent.

the only two poets i respect are David Malouf - because "The Crab Feast" is incomprehensible" and Elsie Ann Shannon, because she's hot and when i emailed her, asked me if i wanted a blowjob.

[Anonymous No.3076849]

von goethe

[Anonymous No.3076860]

Opinion of poetry: I like good poetry. Also, all poetry should be read aloud.
Favorite poet: T.S. Eliot, followed CLOSELY by Shakespeare, Blake, Hopkins, and Poe.

[Anonymous No.3076862]

>>3076849
I remember my English teacher showed us The Erl King and said "This poem by Gayth..."

[Anonymous No.3077574]

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each prayer accepted, and each wish resigned ...


I'm on a real Pope kick.

[Anonymous No.3077633]

[Anonymous No.3077669]

>>3076860
Can you tell me what's going on with Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats? Not really sure if I should be looking for deep ass fucking meaning or if I should just enjoy the smile it gives me.

[Anonymous No.3077692]

I think i prefer poetry over prose and drama. Great poets are far less numerous than great authors. However, I really dislike what poetry is becoming, completely formless and pretty sickening. The trend of modernism and postmodernism towards almost anything being classed as poetry has resulted in pushing the form close to death, hence I find it difficult to read much beyond Eliot, Larkin and Yeats in terms of 20th century poetry.

Poets that I enjoy: the major Romantics, John Clare, Tennyson, Yeats, Larkin, Browning and Milton.

I also enjoy Rimbaud and Baudelaire in French and Dante, Petrarca and (especially) Leopardi in Italian.

[Anonymous No.3077700]

I never like how poetry books keep wasting paper. If they didn't have every line only a couple words the book will be a lot smaller. I know the line length is important in poetry but can't they just put a / saying where the next line is so there won't be all this empty space that's a waste?

[Anonymous No.3077708]

There's a quote by Nietzsche that describes how I feel about 99% of contemporary poetry. Can't find it, but it's something like --

"Unable to offer a pure mountain lake, they stir the muck of a swamp -- to pass for murky depth."

[Anonymous No.3077715]

>>3077669
>if I should be looking for deep ass fucking meaning...
>looking for deep ass fucking
>deep ass fucking

>yep. There it is.

[Anonymous No.3077719]

>>3077708

Found it. The quote is much pithier:

“They muddy the water, to make it seem deep.”

[Anonymous No.3077727]

>>3077719
Yeah. Your version was much more poetic.

[Anonymous No.3077729]

>>3076807
>Elsie Ann Shannon

That is the fucking funniest shit I have thought about all damn day.

[Anonymous No.3077733]

>>3076781
this line
;____;

"Should I, after tea and cakes and ices
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?"

Also, Rimbaud.

[Anonymous No.3077735]

>>3077669
>>3077715


>>reasons I love /lit/

[Anonymous No.3077738]

>>3077719

Poetry exists as a separate form to prose precisely because of its focus on "murkiness". It doesn't have to adhere to the conventions of novel writing and focuses heavily on form and language in a way a novel simply cannot. Were poetry to be devoid of this, it wouldn't need to exist as a form.

[Anonymous No.3077764]

>what is your opinion of poetry?

It's probably the only form of writing that's truly worth reading, and the only form of writing that seems to be an unalterably basic part of human nature. There always will/has been poetry and there always will be, the same cannot be said for any other form of literature.

>also, post your favorite poet.

Probably John Berryman or Yeats, but "favourite poet" is like "favourite album" - it depends entirely on what mood you're in at the time.

[Anonymous No.3077766]

the decline of poetry is another example of academia's propensity to choke creativity.

mfa programs have institutionalized the art. poems aren't judged on quality or inventiveness -- but on their ability to excite established poets within the framework of the academic system.

this always happens when the academy becomes the principle patron of any form. today it's poetry -- and fiction, to a slightly lesser extent. 150 years ago, it was European painting. (think jacques-louis david)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Academic_art

pristine form, deadened spirit.

the academy smothers creativity.

[Anonymous No.3077788]

>>3077738

no. poetry does not have an a priori "focus on 'murkiness.'" that's absolute bullshit.

murkiness is relatively new to poetry. it arose in the 20th century, along with modern art.

this isn't to say that there weren't obscure outlier poems written before the 20th century -- but the great poets all stressed CLARITY over obscurity.

[Anonymous No.3078178]

you're all faggots.

[Anonymous No.3078196]

>>3077719
>tfw applying principles of philosophy to poetry
>tfw poetry is superior to any philosophy

[Anonymous No.3078198]

sound flow in language is fun but most music doesn't appeal to me in that way b/c it's instrumental

also i enjoy playing w/ words grammatically

i like frost, billy collins n john donne, although i haven't read a lot of poetry

[Anonymous No.3078250]

When the night wind makes the pine trees creak
And the pale clouds glide across the dark sky,
Go out, my child, go out and seek
Your soul: the eternal I.

For all the grasses rustling at your feet
And every flaming star that glitters high
Above you, close up and meet
In you: the Eternal I.

Yes, my child, go out into the world; walk slow
And silent, comprehending all, and by and by
Your soul, the Universe, will know
Itself: the Eternal I.

[Anonymous No.3078267]

>>3076760

Anglophone poetry is shite and a waste of paper/electricity.

Poetry in other languages is boss, though.

[Anonymous No.3078716]

A lot of you are simply reading shitty poetry. Most of the poetry they force on us in school is shit, so poetry gets a bad name. Get away from that stuff and find stuff that is more relevant or provocative. Personally, I enjoy Jim Carrol, Anne Sexton, Henry Rollins, Saul Williams, Mutabaruka, Hal Sirowitz, and Mary Oliver. If you don't like the 'dead white males' -find something else! There's LOTS more!

[Anonymous No.3078892]

I think poetry is cool beans

>>3076781
fuck you that's my favourite line of my favourite poem. Now I can't post it. You have good taste.

[Anonymous No.3078942]

>>3077788

If a poem is instantly completely understandable to a reader then it's not much of a poem. I agree that a lot of modernist poetry relishes in this fact than previously, but if you think that you can read through something like "In Memoriam" or "Paradise Lost" and understand every single reference, nuance of language, piece of imagery or the relevance of the form upon the first reading, you are mistaken. You can understand parts of it, such as the general narrative or suchlike.

The greatest poems have this position because they have so many levels to them. You are doing the "great poets" a disservice by suggesting that what you see superficially upon one reading is all that they intended.

[Anonymous No.3078950]

>>3078942
I think you have misread his post entirely. There is nothing contradictory with what he said and you said.

[Anonymous No.3078957]

>>3076801
>I used to think that most poetry was emo faggotry with little point.

Thats probably because you have only read modern ones. Try the classics.
Its just like with modern art, which now has little in common with what a painting was previously supposed to be.

>>3076803
>I don't really like poetry at all. I do like Baudelaire, though.

How by everything that is holy in this dear world can you read and enjoy baudelaire and NOT fall in love with poetry instantly?

[Anonymous No.3078964]

>>3077788
I just don't believe great pre-twentieth poetry focussed on clarity. Like the other anon said, Paradise Lost is a very difficult work. Shakespeare's language is also quite complicated. Gerard Manley Hopkins (whom I love) often has devillish syntax. In fact, I'd argue that the drive for clarity is a more recent invention, because it arose as a reaction against modernism - look at Philip Larkin, John Betjeman, Billy Collins. I think poetry normally uses the aesthetic properties (among other ones) of language at clarity's expense.

[Anonymous No.3078965]

>>3078957

Agreed. The problem is that poetry these days, much like /mu/, is all about "patrician" circle jerking. The more obscure and unreadable a poem, the more the elite praise it. It's a difficult cycle to break.

>>3078950
Perhaps I'm misunderstanding something then. I see his post as claiming that poetry with any level of ambiguity is a modern invention. What do you think it's saying?

[Anonymous No.3078968]

>>3078942
Many poems are there to express DAT FEEL and not to have any deep meaning behind them.

[Anonymous No.3078973]

>>3078968

It is true that such poems exist, but most of these aren't recognised as great works precisely because of this lack of meaning.

This is something I find difficult to reconcile. The position I'm arguing is the more academic one, where poetry is valued by its depth and innovation. Personally, the poems I enjoy the most are because I enjoy the way they sound or a particularly cleverly worded phrase or idea. Poems such as that dreadful one about Plums by William Carlos William may be appreciated because they have so many potential interpretations, but in my eyes, that doesn't make them a good poem.

[Anonymous No.3078981]

Painting is silent poetry and poetry is spoken painting.

[Anonymous No.3078982]

>>3078964
>I just don't believe great pre-twentieth poetry focussed on clarity.

But the examples you stated are particularly difficult ones. There a so, so so many "easy" and short poems, that you can understand instantly.

For a famous example, take The Raven by poe. It has brilliant structure, a very unique and pleasing rhyme scheme and it effortlessly conveyed the desired impressions. But the poem itself is not difficult to understand. You get it on your first try.

I myself are no native english speaker and I have read the poem and fell in love with poe's poesy at a time when I didnt even completly understood the english language.
The same goes with Verlaines poems, which you can understand and love even with very rudimentary french.

[Anonymous No.3078987]

>>3078981
I mean, it looks cool but how do you reach the book on top? Quite inconvenient

[Anonymous No.3079007]

>>3078987
You roll it around until it's at the bottom.

[Anonymous No.3079052]

>>3078965
The depth doesn't have to include ambiguity. See my examples with these two boxes.

The red box is older poetry. It is total in its clarity, it is red and you can the see the shades and nuances of the different sides, afterwards you can stick down your hand in the box and holy fuck, there are things in their.

The Necker Cube is modern poetry. It speaks to the reader, look at me, i'm a box. But yet you see no box, no sides, no nuance. It tells you to stick down your hand and find all the content. You do. Nothing is there. The trick is however, if you go on long enough, your brain will actually create a context for you, in order to satisfy itself. That is why authorial intent is dead, it doesn't matter at all. Because it really wasn't there from the beginning, in both lack of theme, form and structure.

One has to ask themself, if authorial intent doesn't matter, why do you even bother reading the book at all. You can just make up as you go along instead.

[Anonymous No.3079057]

>>3079052
Authorial intent lies within the clarity of the text. Writing basically molding your thoughts into something physical. So more thought has gone into what is more clear. That is my opinion anyway.

[Anonymous No.3079058]

>>3076760
Мне мало надо!
Краюшку хлеба
И каплю молока.
Да это небо,
Да эти облака!

[Anonymous No.3079094]

I'm fond of memorising poems and reciting them (aloud or mentally) while doing menial tasks to amuse myself.

[Anonymous No.3079108]

>>3076760
superior in form and content to the romance and the treatise

[Anonymous No.3079111]

ITT: the victory lap for the bourgeois and their stupid little story books

[Anonymous No.3079116]

>>3079094

Same, but not for menial tasks. I live by the sea, so when the mood takes me, I'll either go by myself or with a book to the edge of this old pier and spend time thinking/ reciting poetry.

On calm nights, it's something like "Dover Beach" or on wilder, darker nights, something like "Rime of the Ancient Mariner"

>>3079052
This is true, although as a rule the more ambiguous something is, the more depth it can have as it is a lot easier to insert one's own meaning into the poem. This is going into the realm of the relevance of authorial intent though, which is in itself a dangerous area. Analysing literature wouldn't really work if authorial intent was taken as objectively true as so much literary criticism is based upon the response of the reader. There is a rejection of the objective truth of the creator thus an acceptance of the subjective.

>>3079057

This is really where the semantics comes into it. Is the poet who creates a deliberately ambiguous work doing so with all the possible interpretations of said poem in his mind? Does the fact of this depth make it superior to another poem which lacks this depth, but is more understandable? It's all far too subjective to allow for a definitive answer.

Personally, I view poems as something quite naturalistic. A poem is "good" because of how it feels when I read it and what it evokes in me. I can appreciate a poem about FEELS ending with a profoundly touching last line, yet which lacks references to Sumerian drama far more than I can appreciate a disjointed work which makes very little sense but references the entirety of Iranian folklore and relates it to the work of the pre-raphaelites.

[Anonymous No.3079119]

>>3079111

Here's a hint: If you wish to be a convincing troll, be sure to use the right words. "Bourgeois" is an adjective; "Bourgeoisie" is the noun

[Anonymous No.3079137]

thou child of my right hand, and joy;
My sinne TH, on the just day.
O, could I loose all father, now. For why
Will man lament the state he should envie?
To have so soon scap'd worlds and fleshes rage,
And, if no other miserie, yet age?
Rest in soft peace, and, ask'd, say here doth lye
Ben. Johnson his best piece of poetrie.
For whose sake, hence-forth, all his vowes be such,
As what he loves may never like too much.

[Anonymous No.3079140]

Much of the Beat Generation is awesome. I'm probably going to get some hate for that, but fuck it.

[Anonymous No.3079141]

The flower in the glass peanut bottle formerly in the
kitchen crooked to take a place in the light,
the closet door opened, because I used it before, it
kindly stayed open waiting for me, its owner.

I began to feel my misery in pallet on floor, listening
to music, my misery, that's why I want to sing.
The room closed down on me, I expected the presence
of the Creator, I saw my gray painted walls and
ceiling, they contained my room, they contained
me
as the sky contained my garden,
I opened my door

The rambler vine climbed up the cottage post,
the leaves in the night still where the day had placed
them, the animal heads of the flowers where they had
arisen
to think at the sun

Can I bring back the words? Will thought of
transcription haze my mental open eye?
The kindly search for growth, the gracious de-
sire to exist of the flowers, my near ecstasy at existing
among them
The privilege to witness my existence-you too
must seek the sun...

My books piled up before me for my use
waiting in space where I placed them, they
haven't disappeared, time's left its remnants and qual-
ities for me to use-my words piled up, my texts, my manuscripts,
my loves.
I had a moment of clarity, saw the feeling in
the heart of things, walked out to the garden crying.
Saw the red blossoms in the night light, sun's
gone, they had all grown, in a moment, and were wait-
ing stopped in time for the day sun to come and give
them...

[Anonymous No.3079143]

>>3079141

Flowers which as in a dream at sunset I watered
faithfully not knowing how much I loved them.
I am so lonely in my glory-except they too out
there-I looked up-those red bush blossoms beckon-
ing and peering in the window waiting in the blind love,
their leaves too have hope and are upturned top flat
to the sky to receive-all creation open to receive-the
flat earth itself.

The music descends, as does the tall bending
stalk of the heavy blssom, because it has to, to stay
alive, to continue to the last drop of joy.
The world knows the love that's in its breast as
in the flower, the suffering lonely world.
The Father is merciful.

The light socket is crudely attached to the ceil-
ing, after the house was built, to receive a plug which
sticks in it alright, and serves my phonograph now...

The closet door is open for me, where I left it,
since I left it open, it has graciously stayed open.
The kitchen has no door, the hole there will
admit me should I wish to enter the kitchen.
I remember when I first got laid, H.P. gra-
ciously took my cherry, I sat on the docks of Prov-
incetown, age 23, joyful, elevated in hope with the
Father, the door to the womb wasopen to admit me
if I wished to enter.

There are unused electricity plugs all over my
house if I ever needed them.
The kitchen window is open, to admit air...
The telephone-sad to relate-sits on the
floor-I haven't had the money to get it connected-

I want people to bow when they see me and say
he is gifted with poetry, he has seen the presence of
the Creator
And the Creator gave me a shot of his presence
to gratify my wish, so as not to cheat me of my yearning
for him.

Allen Ginsberg, 1955

[Anonymous No.3079174]

Dare you dabble with the blackened abyss?
'tis not a feeling sir, or one of his.
But a bottle of brandy flavored the favorite.
liquorice

[Anonymous No.3079175]

>>3079116
Sure, but I think that is what I was touching upon. You can be ambigiuous for the sake of being ambigiuous or you can be ambigiuous just because you don't know what the hell you are doing.
I agree with you that FEEELS poetry is good. And I don't need certain structure and rhyme. Rather I sometimes object it, when someone looks for a rhyming words instead of picking the one that has much more weight and clarity to it, but doesn't rhyme. That is a great poem. But it is quite a useless discussion and it is very subjective. It's a version of "What is art?", and I don't do those. So I keep reading to myself. :) Cheers bro. All I know is that when I read a book, I usually can tell if the author has really thought about his meaning. That is a sincerity, weight and clarity surronding the work--and I feel that it is often lacking in more modern literature. Best regards bro!

[Anonymous No.3079178]

I hated poetry when I was younger, but after taking a few college courses with some good professors who actually discuss the form of the language, it really helped me find an appreciation for it.

Now I love it. I find myself thinking about how words can fit together all the time. I never thought of myself as a poet before, but it's really interesting to me all the ways you can make a sentence sound nice.

[Anonymous No.3079616]

Bump this shit I need to discover new poets.

[Anonymous No.3079667]

>>3079616

Do you have any you've read and enjoyed?

[Anonymous No.3079685]

[Anonymous No.3079697]

>>3079667
Afternoon on a Hill

I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one.

I will look at cliffs and clouds
With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
And the grass rise.

And when lights begin to show
Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
And then start down!

Edna St. Vincent Millay

[Anonymous No.3079727]

A Minor Bird

I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;

Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more.

The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key.

And of course there must be something wrong
In wanting to silence any song.

Robert Frost

[Anonymous No.3080740]

fucking bumping

[Anonymous No.3080749]

I believe all poets/poetry is inferior to the poetry the guy on this thread created.

>>3068808

No one shall surpass him. Ever.

[Anonymous No.3080806]

>>3076760

Not my favourite poet, but I felt like posting something different to the stuff I usually recommend. John Cooper Clarke.

the fucking cops are fucking keen
to fucking keep it fucking clean
the fucking chief's a fucking swine
who fucking draws a fucking line
at fucking fun and fucking games
the fucking kids he fucking blames
are nowehere to be fucking found
anywhere in chicken town

the fucking scene is fucking sad
the fucking news is fucking bad
the fucking weed is fucking turf
the fucking speed is fucking surf
the fucking folks are fucking daft
don't make me fucking laugh
it fucking hurts to look around
everywhere in chicken town

the fucking train is fucking late
you fucking wait you fucking wait
you're fucking lost and fucking found
stuck in fucking chicken town
the fucking view is fucking vile
for fucking miles and fucking miles
the fucking babies fucking cry
the fucking flowers fucking die
the fucking food is fucking muck
the fucking drains are fucking fucked
the colour scheme is fucking brown
everywhere in chicken town

the fucking pubs are fucking dull
the fucking clubs are fucking full
of fucking girls and fucking guys
with fucking murder in their eyes
a fucking bloke is fucking stabbed
waiting for a fucking cab
you fucking stay at fucking home
the fucking neighbors fucking moan
keep the fucking racket down
this is fucking chicken town
the fucking train is fucking late
you fucking wait you fucking wait
you're fucking lost and fucking found
stuck in fucking chicken town

the fucking pies are fucking old
the fucking chips are fucking cold
the fucking beer is fucking flat
the fucking flats have fucking rats
the fucking clocks are fucking wrong
the fucking days are fucking long
it fucking gets you fucking down
evidently chicken town