Honestly...

Honestly, when it comes to poetry what's the difference between "great poetry" and just some random jackass writing down some pretentious phrases that sounds like lyrics of a pop song?

What's the difference between a great painting and shit on a sidewalk.

The mona lisa takes an understanding of colors, lines, all kinds of shit, and objectively takes more skills than throwing poop on a canvas.

On the other hand, here's a poem I'll improv;

she left me by the wayside
my heart bled
a river unending
my voice is silenced

It's just random shit, but I imagine if I slapped a famous poet's name on it, people would love it

Great poetry follows the rules. There os built structure that makes real poetry, basically a skeleton before the actual writing, which is why poetry is bollocks. It basically makes you do math if you want to write it properly.

> my heart bled
> my voice is silenced

No, this is bad. Usually poets butcher and reconstruct their work like erasing and redrawing lines. It doesn't come naturally to them.

thats tumblr shit

>Allen Ginsberg
>Walt Whitman

>if I shat on the sidewalk and said Michelangelo did it people would like it
This is what you sound like

LOL

I'll be honest, if you put H. D. at the end of that I would say it's great

any books about a hot girl getting super fat?

Some of the classic well-known poets considered it a good day if they came up with one line they found acceptable.

I wonder what 8/2017 looks like.

A problem with poetry is that it wasn't really intended to be a "universal" kind of thing. Almost all other artforms have a large amount of universality in their appeal, but poetry is -- from the get-go and even now -- just "local" in its appeal. It's best understood and appreciated by the people who it was written for.

Whenever poetry is consumed outside of its local area of interest, the consumers do all these weird justifications to say it's great, even though it's not intended for them, and they miss the most logical impact that being the right audience would give.

Dadaist masterpiece

Fluflubing
1234 we arrive
Kelman did yoyoyo
Regretttttably many same letters
Letters to belle belles lettres
Caoutchouk bing bong bung
Cicici
Lalala
Didnt he announce he wouldnt use
'

If it was Tristan Tzara you would drop your semen. Unfortunately it's me.

Someone post poetry that sounds like random words put together but by renowned poets and say it's theirs, and viceversa. Let's see if Veeky Forums can sort them out.

She dead

my father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height

this motionless forgetful where
turned at his glance to shining here;
that if (so timid air is firm)
under his eyes would stir and squirm

newly as from unburied which
floats the first who, his april touch
drove sleeping selves to swarm their fates
woke dreamers to their ghostly roots

and should some why completely weep
my father’s fingers brought her sleep:
vainly no smallest voice might cry
for he could feel the mountains grow.

Lifting the valleys of the sea
my father moved through griefs of joy;
praising a forehead called the moon
singing desire into begin

joy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and pure so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would rejoice

keen as midsummer’s keen beyond
conceiving mind of sun will stand,
so strictly (over utmost him
so hugely) stood my father’s dream

his flesh was flesh his blood was blood:
no hungry man but wished him food;
no cripple wouldn’t creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile.

Scorning the Pomp of must and shall
my father moved through dooms of feel;
his anger was as right as rain
his pity was as green as grain

septembering arms of year extend
less humbly wealth to foe and friend
than he to foolish and to wise
offered immeasurable is

proudly and (by octobering flame
beckoned) as earth will downward climb,
so naked for immortal work
his shoulders marched against the dark

his sorrow was as true as bread:
no liar looked him in the head;
if every friend became his foe
he’d laugh and build a world with snow.

My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)

then let men kill which cannot share,
let blood and flesh be mud and mire,
scheming imagine, passion willed,
freedom a drug that’s bought and sold

giving to steal and cruel kind,
a heart to fear, to doubt a mind,
to differ a disease of same,
conform the pinnacle of am

though dull were all we taste as bright,
bitter all utterly things sweet,
maggoty minus and dumb death
all we inherit, all bequeath

and nothing quite so least as truth
—i say though hate were why men breathe—
because my Father lived his soul
love is the whole and more than all

Mira Gonzalez
"Daddy issues"

you googled that, cheater

>Honestly, when it comes to poetry what's the difference between "great poetry" and just some random jackass writing down some pretentious phrases that sounds like lyrics of a pop song?
the ability of the reader

>It basically makes you do math if you want to write it properly.
first of all,
>counting stresses and syllables in a bar is "doing math"
did you flunk out of kindergarten?
and more improtantly,
>Great poetry follows the rules
>write it properly
there is no "properly". there're no such things as "rules". not every great poem shares blatant indicators that you can check off on the "good ass poem" checklist and go hmm yep this is a great poem, it meets all the requirements! no, meter and form are just tools that good poets used to their own devices, and some poets wrote great poems without using the same tools. that's like saying using metaphor is a prerequisite to writing great poems. it's wrong

This is the first clever person I have encountered on Veeky Forums

to really appreciate this as a dadaist masterpiece, you need to consider the post number, the title, and your final blurb at the end to be a part of the poem

what is a good poetry anthology?

"Collected poems"

Hello, Rupi.

One of these is a Rupi Kaur poem, the other one I made up right now. Can Veeky Forums tell which is which?

you are the only one
whose fire is cool
on my skin
i am burned
but not in pain

you are wolf
even before he said you can't howl
you were strong
you will call to the moon
when he's gone

I'm guessing the wolf one is yours.

As someone who's dedicated the last few years at becoming a decent poet, there are a lot of underlying factors which go into great poetry and will never be found in random bullshit.
For instance most random poetry will lack any sort of functional rhythm and meter. Typically the lines will only rhyme, and, given their wonky metric footing, will sound typically like boring, half assed song lyrics.
Typically from there you'll get the people who put in more effort and get to the point where they can emulate a particular style such as a sonnet, an ode, or a limerick with decent effect.
Then you'll get those who are better attuned to finding meter and rhythm and will be writing free verse or using blend of known techniques to create a desired effect in the poem. It's at this point you're usually looking at poetry just as much as music as you are a literary form.
From there, most poets are satisfied with their own understanding. Some may go further and design epics or large poems with polyrhythmic footings being established both through rhyme and meter which tend to establish motifs, progressions, and other more advanced musical techniques applied to poetry.

The third kind is the madness of those who are possessed by the Muses; which taking hold of a delicate and virgin soul, and there inspiring frenzy, awakens lyrical and all other numbers; with these adorning the myriad actions of ancient heroes for the instruction of posterity. But he who, having no touch of the Muses' madness in his soul, comes to the door and thinks that he will get into the temple by the help of art-he, I say, and his poetry are not admitted; the sane man disappears and is nowhere when he enters into rivalry with the madman.

And they came through the sea
From far away lands
Ugly as can be

Packs of wolves and bumblebees
Crowding up our cities
parks and trees

But lest I forget I shall continue
To speak of the woes
of the Russian people

You bismirch H.D. like that again. I dare you

You might actually be retarded. Post a poem that's considered great, that you think is shit. I'll show you the techniques they used.

>unbending instead of unending would've made you improv a little bit better btw

>she left me by the wayside
literal cliche

>my voice is silenced
literal cliche

>my heart bled
pointless and cliche

Child of limousines
What's the best place
That you have seen
All of the hands
That you have shook
Home of the queen of
Everything fancy
Is there a smell
That you can tell
Gives you some peace
Sends you to hell
All of the beds
That you have yearned
Is there a dream to
Where you’d return
Where is the plight
With the most stars
Where do you drink
By Echo guitars
What’s the best shore
Seen from a boat
Miniature heads that
Color the shore line
If you could rest
A minute to tell
Get me some grass
Iridescent shells
I know there’s a nest
Fit with a hatch
Sunset a glowin’
Makes us all sweaty

Shakespeare was said to have never gone back on a line (obviously not 100% all the way through, but still). Also, read "On Genius" by Schopenhauer or some Sophocles and what others have said about him.

this

Norton's is probably the biggest one

There is no difference in the English language.

Some little splinter
Of shadow purls
And weals down
The slewed stone
Chapel steps,
Slinks along
The riverrock wall
And disappears
Into the light.
Now ropy, riffled,
Now owlish, sere,
It smolders back
To sight beneath
A dwarfish, brindled tree
That chimes and sifts
And resurrects
In something’s sweet
And lethal breath.
This little shadow
Seems to know
(How can it know?
How can it not?)
Just when to flinch
Just where to loop and sag
And skitter down,
Just what to squirrel
And what to squander till
The light it lacks
Bleeds it back
And finds
My sleeping dark-haired girl —
O personal,
Impersonal,
Continual thrall —
And hammocks blue
In the hollows of her eyes.

The longer the poem, the greater the difference between a master and a bad poet.

Almost everyone can write one good line, even an idiot (Twitter is full of random people who release great one-liners).
Most poets can churn out 10 or 15 good lines and still look good.
Bad poets begin to look boring in 50 or 80 lines, no matter what they do.
And if the poem lasts 200 or 500 lines, it has to be masterful otherwise we just stop reading.

Now imagine an epic poem with 10,000 lines. That's where only the greatest can shine, because no one will read 10,000 lines of "just okay" poetry. It has to be divine not to be unbearable.

Exactly why one of my main goals in life is to become skilled enough at poetry to be able to craft a respectable epic. I have the story made, I just need the writing capability

So the most well-read poets are the best right? Every living literature PhD is a better poet than Homer amirite?

>rhyming where and here

animal collective is genius

Where are the rhymes

There isn't.

Cause the only thing that made that great painting "great" was consensus and the consensus these days is that any shitty(by old standards) painting can be great art.

Only good post in this thread, satan trips confirm

Wait what, I have to count stresses as well, what the fuck, how do I do that?

...

...

Rupi is too self-centered to use second person

Is it in space?
If it's not in space, it's useless and obsolete.

What the fuck?
What is that? What's stressing, even? Like stressing certain syllables?

jesus christ

im a foreigner pls no bully

>literal moonrunes

Do you have any book suggestions that introduce poetic "theory," as it were? I've found "The Making of a Poem: A Norton Anthology of Poetic Forms" which looks promising, but if you have any other suggestions I'd love to hear them.

Lol.

What is this jewish bullshit and why did you feel confident posting it on this site?

Yes, poetry makes English cosplay as a tonal language. It's just another layer, and it's useful for harmony. Some specific types of poems also need at specific stresses at various points in the lines, but I'm not sure about the details in English.

jesus go finish highschool please