Poetry - Save the poems!

>Do you like poetry?
Yes
>Have you ever written a poem?
I tried to, but they suck. I want to read more poetry before trying again.
>Name a poet you like.
Théophile Gautier
>Name a modern poet.
Gaston Miron
>Ever read foreign poetry in their native language? If so, what language, which poet?
English, many poets. I'm waiting on my edition of Keats complete poems from amazon.

here's some freeverse slightly stoned and hungover poetry for all yall to shit on

apple-water flows over cinnamon fish
scaling a two storied courthouse
brimming full of hypocrites

the layman lawyer schools
a bank of trout

the judge sentences
a crawdad's in-laws

i renew my fishing license
and swim away
to next monday's wake

breathing water like a mistake
the apple of the sea is rot

That is stoned indeed.

>Do you like poetry?
Yes
>Have you ever written a poem?
Yeah, I'm published in a few tiny publications.
>Name a poet you like.
Joe Bolton. Louis Gluck.
>Name a modern poet.
Dean Young.
>Ever read foreign poetry in their native language? If so, what language, which poet?
I was working on Sappho back when I was interested in learning Greek.

Here's a little piece I'm working on now.

Hmm, nice.
Thanks a lot for sharing

Is it paid well or nah?

It depends on the publication, some pay and some don't. If they do pay, it's usually not much.

Well, I wish you luck user. Maybe one day I'll get published too.

There aren't any poets that make their living entirely off their work. Most do some teaching and such as their main gig. But yeah, thanks. Getting published in collections isn't actually terribly hard, you just need to find the right one for your style of work. Getting a collection of your own work published, however, is a lot harder.

How do I search out poets that aren't in the Western Canon?

>Joe Bolton

damn, where'd you find this guy hes incredible

>Do you like poetry?
Yes, very much.
>Have you ever written a poem?
I've written many; it's all melodramatic garbage.
>Name a poet you like.
Frank O'Hara
>Name a modern poet.
Evie Christie

I wrote you a poem, not to Xena

Hello there lit
You're all dicks
This tiny speech
Is for your winnie-win

muh dick desu

Poetry professor introduced me to him. You can't find much of his stuff online unfortunately. You should check out his book The Last Nostalgia if you get a chance.

>Do you like poetry?
Sometimes.

>Have you ever written a poem?
As a teenager.

>Name a poet you like.
Whitman or Poe, I guess. I'm a pleb.

>Name a modern poet.
ur mom lol she seduced ME i swear

>Ever read foreign poetry in their native language? If so, what language, which poet?
No, but I'd like to become more cultured.

Here's a poem about Xena.
She does strange things to my weina.
I hope Lucy truly is lawless,
'cause what I want to do to her is illegal.
Your mom loves it. The end.

I managed to find like 10 of his poems on somebody's blog but yeah that was it. You know of any other lesser-known poets with a similarly wistful tone?

>Moisture
Oh bby

You might enjoy Dean Young. Not quite as somber as Bolton, but wistful nonetheless.

poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/detail/57050

This is one of my favorites from Young.

Thank you user

No problem. Keep checking back in this thread, I'll try to think of some other contemporary poets that are like Bolton.

In Memoriam is definitely my favorite poem by Tennyson

How do you guys read poetry? Do you read anthologies for breadth, or do you read individual collections for depth of insight into a few poets but not knowing much about others. There seems like such a wide necessary canon of poetry to read, and I'm concerned that if I focus on just a few of the ones I like that I'll miss out on others

Death rises and blows. Not with water nor sun
does it surround all that matters. What is rare
is its absence. In a century or two
natural forms decay, unless a sphere
of unity intervenes- a body
of perfection which challenges the gaze
of aesthetes emerging from a darker place.
Imagine the flea’s panic in ungroomed hair,
tossing at night, upon peregrine pillows,
and you will know the black hand, unlicensed fear
which hardens into the familiar, and then
loses itself in worlds askance and askew
from the adamantine world the senses show,
and eyes sifting the shapes of uncertain urns.

Anthologies are a good way to start, then you can decide which poets you like in the anthology and go find their individual collections. What sort of poetry are you most interested in? I can recommend a collection for you.

This isn't good. The diction doesn't mesh with itself and sounds forced. Askance and askew? Really?

>Do you like poetry?
Loved it for years

>Have you ever written a poem?
Working on a book right now

>Name a poet you like.
Basho

>Name a modern poet.
Hass

>Ever read foreign poetry in their native language? If so, what language, which poet?
Yes. Haiku collections in Japanese
And some postmodern french garbage

...

Francisco X. Alarcón

idk how it rotated like that...

...

Dites-moi où, n'en quel pays,
Est Flora la belle Romaine,
Archipiades, ne Thaïs,
Qui fut sa cousine germaine,
Echo, parlant quant bruit on mène
Dessus rivière ou sur étang,
Qui beauté eut trop plus qu'humaine ?
Mais où sont les neiges d'antan ?

Où est la très sage Héloïs,
Pour qui fut châtré et puis moine
Pierre Esbaillart à Saint-Denis ?
Pour son amour eut cette essoine.
Semblablement, où est la roine
Qui commanda que Buridan
Fût jeté en un sac en Seine ?
Mais où sont les neiges d'antan ?

La roine Blanche comme un lis
Qui chantait à voix de sirène,
Berthe au grand pied, Bietrix, Aliz,
Haramburgis qui tint le Maine,
Et Jeanne, la bonne Lorraine
Qu'Anglais brûlèrent à Rouen ;
Où sont-ils, où, Vierge souvraine ?
Mais où sont les neiges d'antan ?

Prince, n'enquerrez de semaine
Où elles sont, ni de cet an,
Que ce refrain ne vous remaine :
Mais où sont les neiges d'antan ?

Isn't this like Rupi Kaur stuff?

To Xena

A delicate balance must be found
Between warrior
And princess
To convince anyone you're either
Especially both at the same time

Strength, meekly displayed
Diplomacy, aggressively fought
You show them you're a woman
While showing them your sword

Xena, Xena
Where would you be
Frought for meaning
Memorialized by boys
With memories like a chalkboard

Xena, Oh Xena
Cum-stained stained glass mementos
Used for message board fodder
And self-agrandizing nostalgia
I'll weep for you
Warrior and princess
Passion and prudence
Earth and stars

I think, if you wrote this sober, I would enjoy it, it has good intentions at least. The best bit is the part about renewing your fishing license, it was the most interesting aspect of your theme, to me

I think I'm more inclined to enjoy poetry that doesn't feel so tightly bound to convention, though of course not totally eschewing rhythm and intonation. I've liked Rimbaud, Hart Crane, Williams, some Conrad Aiken when he's not being stuffy, some Wallace Stevens, Edward Arlington Robinson, Elizabeth Bishop. Basically my taste is very mainstream at the moment, mostly because I don't really know what direction to go in. I'm not formally educated in poetry so I don't get many opportunities to delve into pet recommendations of my peers or anything

I disagree, but you can decide for yourself. Not ALL of his poems are like that and some of them do actual poetic stuff. Here's another short one: (typed out because I don't want it to rotate again)

Rescue

at the end
I found

myself
holding

the other end
of the rope

and one more

Day and Night

I bleed
in silence
all alone

in field
in streets
in cells

my fists
hit
walls

whips
undress
my ribs

from
my mouth
come out

broken teeth
blood
butterflies

bumpin

He was touched or he touched or
Marianne Boruch

He was touched or he touched or
she did and was, or they were
and would. Or the room could, its
three doors, two windows or

the house on a slant touching,
touched by the drift down street, cars
pressing quick or slowing. All along
the town touched a river, the river

the filth falling through it. What was clean—
a source pure as rumor—a shore
touching lake touched by wind above,
and below, a spring. All touch blindly

further water. That blue touching
blacker regions in the sea so weirdly
solitary, each to under, to every
sideways past deeper, where nowhere.

A warrior princess named Xena
Wanted to become a Queena
But no prince in the land
Wanted her hand
So now we just call her Has-Beena

Shit I used "wanted" twice.
Mentally replace the second line with "dreamed of becoming a queena".

thanks for the edit, now it's great poetry

Really? I made it rhyme so I figured you guys wouldn't like it.

Not bad user

English is not my mother language, so please excuse my question, but I'm unfamiliar with 'Has-Beena', what does it mean?

GAHHH very good

in the bottom of a motel six pool
i found a trout, rainbow in the scales
hook piercing a fish bone cheek

he found words like a toddler
"i can't find my home"

grabbing his tail
i sewed him to the back of my homesick blues
postmarked with good intentions
i sent him home to mama

The surreal becomes real,
And real life's fake
What's left to go right,
When right's a mistake

If I go then you'll stay
So you stay and I'll go
Heaven in this hell
Has never been so close

Really awkwardly worded, and the end is too "out there" with not enough setup

Nothing about this is original

sup mon frère

This is pretty, I like it a lot

I've only written one poem ever in highschool (besides caligrammes when I was very little)

Quand le ciel gris descend aux lacs couverts de givre,
Et une ondée de grêle fouette les arbres nus,
En se traînant chez lui, par neige fait chenu…
Il n’existe qu’un rêve pour un homme assez ivre:

Les sarments de cette aube, qui peint la nuit en cuivre
De sang, une promesse du répit imprévu:
Au bord d’une falaise il guette au loin la vue
Du soleil et ses flammes, qui pourraient le revivre.

La chaleur de l’été qui étouffe la vie,
Salvatrice suprême, charmante elle convie –
Bien qu’il n’y voie rien que la brume qui le noie.

Il louche et il trébuche, engourdi par le vent.
Il prie pour le dégel, son seul souhait fervent.
Autour de lui pourtant les flocons lourds tournoient.

Now post something of yours, your taste implies you have probably written something better

You must reach the stage where you relinquish lyricism for pure meaning, or you will never be able to enjoy the works of one of the greatest poetic giants of our time

cosmoetica.com/Poetrylinks.htm

cosmoetica.com/s2-des2.htm

>cosmoetica.com/s2-des2.htm
none of your poorly written slop makes the posted poem any better than garbage

Dan Schneider is the only poet in our time that keeps to that ornate muscular poetic tradition. In exchange, he relquinshed all meter and lyricism.

What other poet could write a dual twin towers Sestina just because he felt like it?

cosmoetica.com/Skyline.htm

Dont worry. One day you'll get it.

Leather armour
darkness in her hair
Blood dripping from steel
A princess without distress

H-how did I d-do it, lit?