The Everlasting Throes of Those

The Everlasting Throes
Of Those
Who Argue about Poetry versus Prose
And about the Propriety or Crime
Of Meter and Rhyme
In Poetry:


as I see it, it’s back to the ancient Greek idea
of three near-absolutes – Truth, Beauty and Goodness
and although they’re all absolute in their aim,
and therefore theoretically equal,
most of us, I suspect, have our personal order for this list

those who put Truth first at all costs are more likely
to write prose; but if they love beauty in words
and have the urge to write something beautiful in words
they may try poetry; but to them,
rhyme is untruthful, dishonest, because
looking for a rhyme
becomes a crime:
and leads your mind away from the strict Truth.

while those who put Beauty first don’t have
a fixed attitude – they may, as children do,
love the formal music of hearing about
A certain Mrs Dhutti
Who was very slightly nutty
She wouldn’t wear a saree
As her arms and legs were hairy
And thought it was much better
To wear trousers and a sweater
etc.
or they may feel that their response to the world
is so full of love, of awe, of wonder
(of which Aristotle said the second and third
are shared by philosophers, that is, lovers - note the word - of wisdom,
and poets – though a poet
may not know it…)
where was I oh yes, their response to the world
is most truly - note the word - expressed
in free verse
which may be better poetry
or worse

and what about Goodness – oh let’s not
get into that: the poetry Forums are full of the emptiness
(though it’s a necessary evil, looked at in a way)
of poets and readers and critics saying
what’s good poetry and what’s bad
according to them and feeling
they’ve made a contribution to
Truth, Goodness, and Beauty, in that order
by pronouncing this.

some few, some worthy few, and I’ll mention no names
for reasons not unconnected as Milton might put it
with the previous stanza,
whose brilliance of that servant mind which we all share,
manages to juggle Beauty, Goodness and Truth,
in that order in this instance, and not only juggle but
remain faithful to them all; we could call them
The Absolutely Great – they speak straight from heart to heart
and they don’t worry about prosaic considerations like the above
because they’ve got it all, all this, within their art; within
their constant heart.

(Readers, please note,
that last line’s a quote.)

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Great Poetry?

How could anyone ever truly
Define great poetry?
Factors are so many that contribute
To the way each person does hear-feel-and see.
The season, the day, the very time,
Along with each readers wisdom-knowledge-and mind.
A line read one day
May deeply stir the spirit
While the very next time read
The reader simply just can't 'get-it'.

Besides, who is to judge,
And who is to decide?
Who always speaks truth,
And who pray tell has never lied?
Let the one who has never struggled with emotion and word
Cast the first critical stone,
Let the pure, perfect poet
Read and write completely all alone;
Enshrined by himself
Upon his own empty throne.

After all, it is supposed to be
A bit (or more) of myth and mystery,
A little difficult to decipher, somewhat vague,
Meant to speak, but not brag.
For Goodness sake, it's poetry.
Not prose, not essay, and certainly not the news.
It's forms are many and free,
It's thoughts different and deep,
It's direction everywhere the heart can see,
It's origin, and destination, ineffable...

But to write, one must try, or die... such is the poems strength.
So, let the creator of words create.
With wild and wonderful words to decipher and debate;
And never let the beauty of it all
In trivial criticism suffocate.

What is great poetry though you still inquire?
I should have told you from the start;
(But, then you would not have listened)
Great poetry is always, and only,
Beautiful words written truly
From, and for, the heart.

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Dullard's Diatribe

Life is poetry, how it can be!
Life is without rhyme and rhythm,
Poets seek flow and mystic music,
Life lacks both and stumbles like a freak,
All these are make believe and a false promise,
Truth lies in meter and foot, a fool's paradise!
Life, poetry, truth and beauty in different tracts,
Truth is bitter beauty is sweet, in fact a true fact.
So No truth and no beauty in poetry, all are bogus
A hoodwinking, blackmailing and logically fallacious.

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A Big Or Brief Poetry......!

Big or brief, what is poetry?
Poetry is......
Creating beauty out of blemish,
Making order out of disorder,
Producing meaning out of musical words,
Creating Universal truth out of trivialities,
Arranging points out of less known facts!

Is poetry just making rhythm and rhyme
Without meaning, life, force and taste,
Without free flowing musical words,
Without words of music, beauty, fun?

Poetry is free flowing river of words
With full of images, lively and lovely,
Transporting from this world to that world
Forgetting himself and readers here!

Just end rhyme is not enough to make it so;
Internal rhymes make music in rhythm
Making all enjoy music, meaning and ideas!

Poetry is the medium to say complex things
Not possible to say in other forms of language,
Saying unknown things using known things;
It is sound, substance, message and meaning!
And many more matters to many men in the world!

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A Platonic Reminiscence of a Great Lady

Someone mentioned your name yesterday
and I was silent

You loved goodness, you were goodness,
and I think goodness must have
loved you; and we,
we loved you for your goodness

You loved truth, spoke truth,
and surely the truth
loved you for loving it; and how
we loved to hear you
speaking truth

You loved beauty in
so many ways that beauty
blessed you: in movement,
in actions, in thought, in words and yes
the beauty of goodness and
the beauty of truth shone from you –
how could we not love you
beyond you?

How often in this poem to you
the word love appears
as it did
in you

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Potential Poetry!

Love has no fear whatsoever in the world;
Poet does all by his love of all matters here;
Poetry is inspiring words of poet for all!

What's not possible by poetry is nothing!
Impossible is expressed in possible words
Making unknown known by poetry only!

Forms and style are poets own creations;
Poetry is ever new in expression of ideas
Inspiring all to be enthusiastic, enlightened!

Love of Nature, life, beauty and love poetry
Explores always deep to express truth new!
Poets are gods of Earth to men to new realm!

Poetry briefly converges all in a nutshell
As powerful as atomic energy in control!

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Most Of The So Called Literary Experts

Most of the so called literary experts are dismissive of rhyme
They say 'tis the poetry of a long gone time
Yet the poets that they laud the poems they do write
Cannot be put to music and are hard to read and recite
The rhymer of today is not looked on as a poet
Or is not seen as one worthy of literary note
By the so called literary experts with literary degrees
Though their judgement on what is or is not poetry not everyone does please
They never will convince the old style rhyme buff
To him or her well written rhyme is not throw away stuff
In well written rhyme are the words to a song
And good rhyming poetry to music belong
Yet the degreed literary experts who on poetry like to have their say
Dismiss rhyming poets and their poetry as of yesterday.

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Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !

Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
Why are we addicted to Poetry?
We Poets who write,
All day or all night,
That Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !

There’s scarce a moment in time,
That thoughts don’t find words in rhyme,
To put into verse,
Whether better or worse,
In that Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !

Why do we write all these Verses?
We must have better things to do,
But whatever we try,
And I don’t know why,
We write Poem upon Poem for you.

It’s funny how my style has changed,
It’s a Limerick today I’ve composed,
It wasn’t meant to be,
But it is ~ you can see,
Just Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !

© Yisroel Yonatan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 26 January 2006

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Poetry...Poetry...

Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the beginning of new life,
Poetry is in the tears of a child,
Poetry is in the warmth of mother's kiss,
Poetry is in the child's bliss,
Poetry is in the hug of a father,
Poetry is in the love of a dear,
Poetry is in the happiness of affection,
Poetry is in the pain of separation,
Poetry is in someone's loss,
Poetry is in missing someone very close.

Poetry...Poetry...

Poetry is in the first rain,
Poetry is in the cultivation of first grain,
Poetry is in the first light of dawn,
Poetry is in the drops of dew o the grass of lawn,
Poetry is in the blowing of cool wind,
Poetry is in the beauty of green,
Poetry is in the twinkling star,
Poetry is in the aroma of a flower,
Poetry is in thunder and lightning,
Poetry is in the heat scorching.

Poetry...Poetry...

Poetry is something more sweeter than sweet,
Poetry is something more closer to heart beat,
Poetry is something more than the most beautiful creation,
Poetry is something more than the depth of an ocean,
Poetry is something more higher than the blue,
Poetry is something more true,
Poetry is something more enjoyable than wine,
Poetry is something more shiner than sunshine,
Poetry is something more pure than air,
Poetry is something which is present everywhere.

Poetry...Poetry...

Poet ry is not just rhyme,
Poetry is but the voice Divine,
Poetry is not just Poetry,
Poetry frames History,
After so many lines,
Poetry still remains undefined.

Poetry...Poetry...

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My Preference

Modern proponents of free form.
Do not accept that poetry
has certain rules and must conform.
Or it becomes mere anarchy.

Anything goes just will not do.
It’s either poetry or prose.
One must give credit where it’s due
They both have merit I suppose.

Prose poetry cannot exist.
An oxymoron obviously
but modern writers will insist
that what they write is poetry.

They aren’t content to call it prose
well written and quite beautiful.
Care taken with the words they chose
describing something wonderful.

Although so many writers try.
There’s very few achieve their aim.
They do not stop to wonder why
But simply write more of the same.

Make no attempt to learn the rules
Meter and rhyme a mystery
they lack the simple basic tools
You need for writing poetry.

A poem is a message to
transmit your ideas and your thoughts.
So other folks can share them too.
If you can write them as you ought.

Simplicity and clarity
are prerequisites for our art.
The finest kinds of poetry
are written from the poets heart.

Mere strings of words in random lines
are neither prose nor poetry.
Each of us knows what he defines
as being his idea of poesy.

I rest my case I make no plea
I merely state my preference.
Applicable only to me
I do not wish to cause offence.

6-Jan-08

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Poetry Unlimited

Poetry is looking,
at a flower and,
seeing the beauty
hidden within.

Poetry is bringing
out love, deep in
your heart, telling
your love one how you feel.

Poetry is feeling
a cool breeze
as you lie in an open
field, so deep in thought.

Poetry is seeing
the beauty of soft
fluffy white clouds
as no one else does.

Poetry is hearing
sounds of nature
soaking it all in
to mind and soul.

Poetry is watching and
standing by river's edge
seeing rippling water
flowing to places unknown.

Poetry is gazing at
rolling hills stretching
as far, as the eye
can see.

Poetry is digging
deep into inter feelings
bringing it out
and exposing it.

Poetry is love
Poetry is feelings
Poetry is seeing
Poetry is what you are.

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Totally Biased

I do not often write free form
to me it is not poetry.
Freely admit my prejudice
I think it’s just a passing phase
Although I can appreciate
poetic and well written prose
This does not make it poetry
When I consult my dictionary
it makes it very clear to me.
All writing must be one of those
It can’t be both at he same time.
Prose poetry cannot exist
an obvious oxymoron
Though modern writer still insist
that what they write is poetry
.It may be really beautiful
and well presented on the page
but definitely not poetry.
Why can they not be satisfied
with their well written thoughts in prose.
Why do they call it poetry
a dandelions not a rose.
Its meter defines poetry
it doesn’t even need to rhyme.
Even free verse had its rules
but writers seem to think today
There are no rules anything goes.
I nail my colours to the mast
Not afraid to let my bias show.

31-Jan-08

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Poetry Is All In One!

Passion for poetry is insatiable!
Poetry gives pleasure nothing can!
Poetry is many subjects under one roof!
Poetry never bores to write and read ever!
Poetry is a compression of many ideas in a nut shell!
Poetry displays power of pen to capture men ever!
Poetry captures as photo castles built in air!
Poetry is spontaneous over flow of ides!
Poetry flows free if extemporary!
Poetry is prolific words sure!
Poetry is a thing of joy!
Poetry is beauty!
Poetry is witty!
Poetry cheers!

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There Is Another Poetry

THERE IS ANOTHER POETRY

There is another Poetry-
A poetry of inspiration
A poetry of help
A poetry of encouragement
A poetry of courage and heart
A poetry of love of life
Which teaches greater love of life.

There is another poetry
A poetry I would write
But the poetry I largely live in
Is complaint and question and fear and doubt
And trouble and sadness-
Oh why can’t I give some greater goodness to others
Than I am myself in my soul?

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All Poetry... All The Time

All Poetry … All The Time
I Love To Read In Rhythm & Rhyme
I Love To Write Of Wistful Wishes
And Lips Speak Of Love Like Bold Kisses

All Poetry … All The Time
Poetry, Is A Medication For My Mind
Poetry, Has A Power To Overthrow Pain
Poetry, Should Be Spoken, Again and Again

All Poetry … All The Time
I Am Really Thrilled To Find
More Poet Lovers, and Their Word Artistry
All The Time … All Poetry

All Poetry … All The Time
May Each Poetic Puff, Rise & Climb
Into The Clouds, Up To The Stars
(Or Maybe Just Linger, Where You Are) …

All Poetry … For All Of Time


Written & ©: 5/24/10

By: MoonBee

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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.

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Teach Them How To Fish

you may give them fish
but for how long will you be giving them fish? for how long will you fish yourself?
teach them how to fish and they will also teach others how to fish.
that is wiser that way.

teach them poetry at first. let them read the easiest one to understand. let them
see the beauty of the simplest lines from you and from the poet that you love.

teach them how to write one from the fingers of their hand. love their work and tell them how beautiful are they. there is always beauty in every personalized line. i know.i am telling you. your lines speak what is in your heart and everything
inside our hearts are always innately beautiful

let them read their lines. let them speak the meaning that they are hiding in there. that which you have never seen yourself. let them defend beauty and grace and truth in their own work. beauty and truth and goodness have to be
defended by its creator too.

listen. open your mind. listen attentively.
teacher. listen to them. they are now making their own.
love each work.

teacher listen. now they are teaching you. now you are learning some more.
they have their own wings now.

teacher, see the sky. see them. oh how beautiful are they. they are all flying
and singing. do not wish them to come back to you. let them fly away.let them see the big wide world. let them find the other universes.

they are not yours. they belong to themselves. they are now free.
that is your happiness that even the gods cannot give you.
sit back. and write another poem for another batch. some more. some time.

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On A Famed Poet

Forgive me if his greatness I cannot seem to note
His poems never rhyme but he is a famed poet
By literary experts considered to be knowledgeable and wise
And for his poems he has won many a prize.

Though poetry is not very popular today
The poet of the poetry lovers the experts do say
In University literary magazines students his verses read
And they all agree he's a fine poet indeed.

Of poets and poetry I must confess so little I know
My favourites old rhymers from ages ago
On the poetry I do not like most experts agree
That it is well written and quite good poetry.

Forgive me if the worth in his verse I can't see
His non rhyming poetry does nothing for me
Of reading blank verse I do quickly grow tired
My truth is by such stuff I do not feel inspired.

The experts on his poetry great interest show
And his stature as a poet only seems to grow
Of him great things are written and great things we hear
And good luck to him on his literary career.

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0039 Well, chop my prose!

…for that’s the way that poetry goes…
and goes…mere pose, tapped out as prose…

Yes, most of us, these days, undisciplined,
approach the temple of pure poetry,
when some thought stirs in deepest heart and mind, ,
with all the earthy tread of careful prose…

yet with a certain hope, a faith, a love,
a purity of heart – that if we tread -
unmetered and unrhymed petitioners -
as pilgrims, sackclothed, ashen from the urn
of some poetic crematorium;

that, as we stumble on the heart’s true path,
the Muse, with long and patient, weary sigh,
- the music of the ages in her ears -
will catch up with our steps along the road
and guide us to that sacred, lovely place
where, with a gasp – our verses dropt from hand –
we’ll be where goodness, truth and beauty dance
and sing and laugh and love – now three; now one.

(thanks, WD)

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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

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There Are A Few Poets

THERE ARE A FEW POETS

There are a few poets
Beyond the poetry you and I know
And are capable of –

There are a few poets
Who seem to write a poetry
Which is Poetry itself,
A Poetry which is everything Poetry should be-

Those poets are somewhere else
On a level far beyond any we can hope to reach-
They are Poetry –

And we we are the little listeners and readers
Who can in awe and praise worship
What we ourselves will forever be incapable of.

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