Poetry!!!

[Prufrock]

"Do poets approach language as the neutral instrument for confessional themes, on occasion themes of perjury? Or do they, in the very act of writing, manifestly reveal language itself, particularly language twisted into poetic shapes, as a substance of imagination radically perjured?"

I've read this twice and can't decide if:

a) it's pretentious rubbish, or
b) I'm stupid.

I'll accept there is a possibility c) - that both are true.

What don't you understand?

I think I understand it (no doubt being less stupid than Sponge ) but it could well go in to Private Eye's Pseuds' Corner if that still exists. The point could have been made in simpler and less confusing language.

Not got the hang of this poetry lark have you Monty ?

[thebish]

I think I understand it (no doubt being less stupid than Sponge ) but it could well go in to Private Eye's Pseuds' Corner if that still exists. The point could have been made in simpler and less confusing language.

have a go for us then...

[Montreal Wanderer]

Oh - don't you start.

Don't worry - I thought it rather pretentious too.

[thebish]

I'm off here tomorrow - weather permitting...

http://www.devon.gov.uk/es/index/enviro ... ytrail.htm

[bobo the clown]

I'm off here tomorrow - weather permitting...

http://www.devon.gov.uk/es/index/enviro ... ytrail.htm

There was an old vicar from Devon.
Who told everyone about Heaven.
But after a while,
Made everyone smile,
******************

Any offers for the last line ? Entries by Wednesday.

[thebish]

oi - from your perspective - I'm quite young!

[thebish]

there was an old welshman called Bobo
who was frightfully good on the oboe
when caught unawares
he would put on his flares
_______________________


entries by midnight!

[Bruce Rioja]

there was an old welshman called Bobo
who was frightfully good on the oboe
when caught unawares
he would put on his flares
_______________________


entries by midnight!

there was an old welshman called Bobo
who was frightfully good on the oboe
when caught unawares
he would put on his flares
And take up with TW's Hobo

[TANGODANCER]

there was an old welshman called Bobo
who was frightfully good on the oboe
when caught unawares
he would put on his flares
And shoot off to Whiskey-a-go-go.
_______________________


entries by midnight!

[TANGODANCER]

I'm off here tomorrow - weather permitting...

http://www.devon.gov.uk/es/index/enviro ... ytrail.htm

There was an old vicar from Devon.
Who told everyone about Heaven.
But after a while,
Made everyone smile,
On his motor-bike, when he went rev ing.
******************

Any offers for the last line ? Entries by Wednesday.

[Bruce Rioja]

There was an old vicar from Devon.
Who told everyone about Heaven.
But after a while,
Made everyone smile,
On his motor-bike, when he went rev ing.

Shouldn't it rhyme?

[Montreal Wanderer]

There was an old vicar from Devon.
Who told everyone about Heaven.
But after a while,
Made everyone smile,
By driving his bike in the Severn.

[William the White]

Sharon Olds, perhaps my favourite living poet, has won the T S Eliot Award for her collection Stag's Leap. I have the collection - a Christmas present from my youngest daughter, but i haven't yet started it.

It was wonderful to hear her on the Today programme this morning.

[William the White]

And now I have read two heart-breaking poems from the collection, which is the story of a betrayal and divorce after (I think) a 30 year marriage...

Powerful, moving, truthful... The work of a great poet...

[Montreal Wanderer]

And now I have read two heart-breaking poems from the collection, which is the story of a betrayal and divorce after (I think) a 30 year marriage...

Powerful, moving, truthful... The work of a great poet...

Sounds familiar somehow.

[tankcopters n aids]

Hoe cakes by Mf Doom.

[William the White]

Seamus Heaney, the most beautiful, gentle poet, died today.

A brief tribute:

The poem was over,
the poet had performed, a pleasant murmer
started on the benches, stewards did the rounds
with wine in splendid jugs...

From Heaney's award-winning 1999 translation of Beowulf.

[thebish]

splendid jugs, you say?

[IggyTheDawgster]

Stolen.

Fireflies scar black twilight tonight,
Removed from sight and sat aside my lonely light,
Faithful darkness come collect me quickly,
Be swift to lift me from this pain inflicted,
I'd put no woman above you, Trust me, I love you.


With haste displace this taste I face from lies with kisses sweet as apple pies,
I find my mind aligned with lines, I ryhme in time and laugh as I still try to justify how you can cry,
When I have been the victim of this crime you seem to have to hide,
I need this time alone to try and figure out where I survive,
I will not leave you, You are mine, And I without you would surely die.


You have to understand what we have planned is sacred to this man,
So how could you go back on what you promised me, I cannot stand,
my knees will rest upon the floor, My eyes will produce tears, I'm sure,
But I love you Still, Forvever more, I swear I will not let you go.


I am not mad, Upset and Sad are more the words I'd choose to paint,
Your honesty is all I ask, But lies you mask with ill restraint,
I see you shine I swear I feel your soul within me all the time,
My stomachs pit is filled with sick and stolen kisses spring to mind.


I fear to lose you more than any other fear I've ever known,
I've ripped my pages out and without doubt the most to you I've shown,
You know I'm patient, I could wait until the the days no longer wake,
I won't forsake you, Never break you, But Lies I just can't seem to shake.


You have to know that I'm prepared for you to share my every thought,
My every smile, My every tear, My life and Death,
I'm so distraught.

[Annoyed Grunt]

splendid jugs, you say?

You're not really a man of the cloth, are you?