When critics are waiting to pounce upon poetic style on exactly the same grounds as if it were prose, the poets tremble.
quote by John C. Ransom
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Modern Poets And Modern Poetry
Modern poets and modern poetry seem far too complex to understand
For such as I a common labourer from the boglands of Ireland
Though whether it be good or not so it is not for me to say
As I'm not a poetry critic and so I'll keep my tongue at bay.
Maybe some of these modern poets are special and the poems they write are great
And maybe they are superior thinkers writing from exalted state
Most poetical critics now acclaim them and prefer the modern style
And 'twould seem that modern style poets are now the in thing and their efforts seem worthwhile.
But for me it's old style ballad, give me good old fashioned rhyme
To the modern style of poetry I'd prefer it every time
Like I say I'm just a labourer from the boglands of Ireland
And the complex modern style of poetry is far too hard for me to understand.
poem by Francis Duggan
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There is poetry even in prose, in all the great prose which is not merely utilitarian or didactic: there exist poets who write in prose or at least in more or less apparent prose; millions of poets write verses which have no connection with poetry.
quote by Eugenio Montale
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Poetry Critics
Our poetry critics ageing males on saturday evenings from six to nine
Meet at the literary room of the Lions Club to do what suits them fine
To talk of poetry and poets each to their point of view
Though they agree on one thing that good poets only few.
Well educated gents of course and they could not be rude
But contemporary rhyme poets only poetasters and them they exclude
From their talk of poets and poetry and in their literary knowledge they take pride
And who is or who is not a poet seems their right to decide.
They never talk about bush poets such verse they see as slipshod
And they see them as the children of the lesser poetry god
And for their years in Uni they have their degrees to show
And of poets and of poetry so much they think they know.
To them a poem is not a poem unless it reads like prose
And a ballad different from true verse as a weed is from a rose
And true poets only write for the privileged few that's what they do imply
And never for the ordinary, people like you and I.
Our poetry critics at the Lions they meet on saturday
And who is a good poet and what is a good poem each like to have their say
And if you wish to become a member of their club you must have your Uni Degrees
For if not to them you are not qualified for to talk about poetry.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I've already written 300 space poems. But I look upon my ultimate form as being a poetic prose. When you read it, it appears to be prose, but within the prose you have embedded the techniques of poetry.
quote by Story Musgrave
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0026 To live in poetry
So often, poets
with their poetic eyes,
ears, minds, hearts, souls,
record actions that
are already poetry or poetic
in themselves
or so it seems
which makes it easy
for poetic poets to write
poetic poetry
as when I watch you
poised so still, sitting there,
your face against the light,
painting meeting sculpture,
still as any animal,
still as any goddess
roaming the cosmos in your mind
seeking, ballpoint poised,
the answer to some hidden
crossword clue
living in poetry
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Two schools of thought.
.
The lady chose to take offence
Although I said she wrote fine prose
She may not know the difference
between poetry and prose
She thought that she wrote poetry
But what she wrote was free form prose.
I offered no apology
It was not my fault that she chose.
Not to learn the basic rules
defining prose and poetry
Two very different writing schools
in which to show your artistry.
The so called experts can’t agree
and coined the term poetic prose.
Though writing cannot possible
be classed as poetry and prose.
If it’s not metered it is prose
no matter how poetical.
But you’re entitled to compose.
Fine prose and call it poetry.
Though I suggest respectfully
you should be proud of writing prose.
As some do most successfully.
But it was poetry I chose
Thursday,11 March 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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My Poetry Has Become Prose
MY POETRY HAS BECOME PROSE
My Poetry has become Prose
I have lost my music
Nothing sings in me;
I have lost my richness of meaning
Nothing in me is not linear, flat and clear.
I have lost my poetry
And have become a writer of Prose
In pseudo Poetic Form-
There is in me no Line
That says more than itself-
I am Prose now not Poetry
And yet still secretly hoping
My inner irony will
In contradicting me
Save me.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Who stands with me?
True poets write in meter.
Not because they think it’s neater
but because the flow is sweeter
When their words are read aloud
as they perform before the crowd.
Their poems pass the acid test.
Prose writers do not choose to rhyme.
They see it as a waste of time.
Although their word choice is sublime.
Without meter it is prose,
not poetry as they suppose.
Their definition I contest.
Poetic prose it’s plain to see.
Can not be classed as poetry.
I can accept you disagree.
I know I have a biased view
I think I am entitled to
Decide which one I like the best.
I choose meter every time
Preferably with lines that rhyme.
I find such poetry sublime.
Though I enjoy well written prose.
Each to his own I must suppose
So write the way that suits you best.
I am old fashioned I admit
and not one whit ashamed of it.
I do not find rules inhibit.
Free expression of my views
They merely mean I have to choose
the words that will express them best
Free form, free verse, poetic prose.
Are methods other writers chose
as being fit for their purpose.
To rebel against fixed form.
Which was regarded as the norm.
Just to be different from the rest.
But fashions change and now free form
Must be regarded as the norm.
I see no reason to conform.
I choose to write my poetry
In the old way that pleases me.
A lonely voice raised in protest.
The wheel of fate will slowly turn
Metered poetry will return
and well deserved plaudits earn.
I hope I live to see the day.
when classic poets can display.
That fixed forms can outshine the rest.
Monday,06 December 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I would never write realistic prose. I don't like people who try to write in a poetic style, but in the course of their book abandon it for realism, and weave back and forth like drunkards between the surreal and the real.
quote by Marguerite Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Spirit Of Poetry!
when a spirit of poetry decent,
it came
In a form of dove
When it came
Jesus became first poet under sun
And Almighty God
Was already, first poet over sun?
Using Poetry in poetic foam
Almighty GOD spoke through poetry
And he is a poet himself
Now his poetry is everywhere, and anywhere
We interact with poets
Words are like soil, are everywhere
Brighter that Sun
His poetic lights lead the way
When he likes
He will come
He will be in poetic foam
To Re-arrange poems
Schedule them in a poetic manner
On a judgment, He will met poets first
And secondly meet
Those who haven't written a poem
To Discuss similes, metaphors and personifications
Future of poetry is in heaven
poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
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A matter of form for friend leslie
Consistency and symmetry
combined with meter seem to be
Ingredients of good poetry.
Though modernists will disagree.
They take a different point of view.
Convinced that anything will do
That writers need not follow rules
and those who do they see as fools
Consider rhyming is a crime
and meter just a waste of time.
But can this kind of writing last?
like that of poets from the past.
I don’t dispute they have the right
to choose the way in which they write.
Poetic prose can be divine
but not if it lacks discipline.
Your writing must be coherent.
A well established precedent
If what you write does not make sense.
What can be said in its defence?
If readers cannot comprehend
the message which you try to send
Because your meaning is not plain.
Perhaps its time to think again.
And realise there must be rules.
A craftsman has to know his tools.
If he does not then he will fail
his efforts all to no avail.
Some readers will choose poetry
and others prose preferably
It is your reader’s right to choose
to read your writings or refuse.
If you don’t cater to their needs
don’t be surprised if no one reads.
If how you write is too obscure.
Then change your style. The only cure.
30/06/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Poem about Poery - Poetic World
a hindrance for poets
are those who read
some poems and
think they know what
all poets are up to
they live in a world
of make believe -
a poetic world indeed
that somehow clashes
with the actual poetic world
if the rain would just fall
down in one straight line
the ants all created in a single rank
and the wind, blowing from
one lasting direction
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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An Apple by any other Name...
“The apple, reddish plump,
hanging from rooted branch
beckoning to be taken, tasted
to savor deep, sweet, sweet flesh.”
Now these simple words penned
in poetic form take meaning more
as readers ponder the hidden core.
Surely a metaphor they surmise…
Maybe a lady… virginal and all
waiting to be taken in whatever way
or the sinly sin, snake charming bites.
On the mind goes, pondering poets play.
And timid hands keep downward pose
as the poet posts and waits replies
but one lone soul does venture forth
and braves a response to poet’s prose
“I think it is about eating an apple! ”
(V – 2010) The Poet’s Nature
Reflecting Nature’s various hues
Poets write colourfully.
Echoing Nature’s innate songs
Poets write musically.
Learning from Nature’s righteous laws
Poets write more sensibly.
Drawing from Nature’s spotless love
Poets write more humanely.
Living with Nature’s poetic life
Poets write living poetry.
A poets prayer
A poets prayer
~
To the poets lost
please look upon me
as a kindred spirit
guide my words
that I may write well
watch over me at night
help me dream your dreams
teach me about poetry
~
to the poetic spirit
reveal your love to me
show me the beauty of life
in all its many forms
that I may understand
the ways of this world
and that I may convey them
in a verse to others
~
to the poets lost
and the poetic spirit
I ask of you this favour
to guide me in life
in the poetry I write
I ask of you also
to watch over those I love
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Verdict
Did you do me right?
Did I do right by you?
When I bared my soul it seems you did not hear
Can this be true?
Am I fool to fight?
I could do just what you say
But Im following my heart and that takes me another way
Its not easy when theres no one one giving prizes at the end
Waiting in the wings
Wishing that the band would start to play
As the show begins
Wonder what the critics have to say
Waiting
Waiting
For the verdict
Some people live so fast
Theyre so scared of getting old
Some people keep on working
All they do is line their graves with gold
We dont know what happens when we die
We only know we die too soon
But we have to try or else our world becomes a waiting room
Would you testify for me?
I think Id do the same for you
Waiting in the dark
Waiting for the phone to ring all day
My witness disappears
Wonder what the jury has to say
Waiting
Waiting
Waiting
Waiting
Waiting
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Almost Poetic
It's almost poetic
The way you speak
It's almost poetic
The way you think
The way you sleep and dream
It's almost poetic
The way I feel for you
It's almost poetic
The way we argue
It's almost poetic
When we say goodbye
Not knowing the next time
We'll see each other
You are the curved line
And I am the dot
That creates the question mark..
And it's almost poetic
If it were not so pathetic.
poem by Jeremy Rascon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Style
Style must not be underrated
Style is often overlooked
Style is never in the papers
I read it like an open book
Style
If you cant see the substance
Style shows how its organized
Style is looking for your money
Its in the way you paint your eyes
There is always a way
A way things are done
Ive been learning my abcs
I know what is 10, I know what is 1 in
Style is a naked look
Underneath your style
Style of a different place
Talking through your style
Even the way you hide it
Reveals the thing you hide
Your style may never cause a riot
Its still a style to have no style
There is always a way
To light up a lamp
Its been a crazy year all around
The check never came
I cant let it cramp my
Style is a world for sale
You cant buy this style
Style that you cant resist
You wont cramp my style
song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Waiting To Unleash!
Too much grief due to communal conditions,
Too much anger due to nonsensical notions,
Too much rigid restrictions due to obligations
Make one a poet at last to pour emotion in poems!
At such a time and mood can there be any form
Being followed according to regular poetic models
Usually known to all including both poets and critics
Who can comment and criticize according to fashion?
Grief and anger find whatever weapons available
To hit at the opponents according to their maturity
To establish fair points of view for stirring emotion
To make justice, truth and reason stand above all!
On such occasions words flow in cascades at will
From the depths of the poet’s heart that are hidden
And saturated for a long time inspired, ruminative
And contemplative in nature waiting to unleash!
poem by Ramesh T A
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If I Was Here To Impress
Your approach and style,
Seems to have had its benefits...
And advantages.
'I know.
And I find that remarkable.
To sit back and see my influence,
All over the place.
Especially copied by those,
Who didn't know the difference...
Between poetic verse and definition.
Or the rhyming done within prose.'
How do you feel about that?
'My track record speaks for itself.
And besides...
If I was here to impress,
I'd be the first to address that in forums.
To compose with a showing,
The deepness of my sincerity.
To those convinced I offer originality.
And not plagiarized imaginations,
To gain notoriety.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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