anyone here into poetry?

[JesseQuinn]

I'm a voracious reader (novels, history, biographies, etc) but I also thirve on poetry

I write a lot of my own but it's not for public consumption, just me working through stuff

anyway, I'm reading Tar Baby by Toni Morrison right now where a so-called 'poet' plagiarizes a line from one of my fav poems ever


Richard Cory

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich—yes, richer than a king—
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.

-E.A. Robinson


my next fav, Lady Lazarus

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it——

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?——

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot——
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I’ve a call.

It’s easy enough to do it in a cell.
It’s easy enough to do it and stay put.
It’s the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

‘A miracle!’
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart——
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash—
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there——

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air

-Sylvia Plath


so any poetry peeps up in here? if so, what are your favs?

[AmeliaG]

Oh wow, haven't thought of that Edwin Arlington Robinson poem in forever, but it was such a favorite when I was a kid. Such perfect rhythm, rhyme, and message.

Always thought I should like Plath, but she didn't resonate. In general, I like song lyrics but not so much lines intended to be poetry.

[Klen]

I am , i wrote several hundred poems.

[CaptainHowdy]

Poetry is nobody’s business except the poet’s,
and everybody else can fuck off.

—Philip Larkin

[CurrentlySober]

i lik pooetery:
Hers is a pooem i wrote

Just stick 2 fingers up your bum, and wiggle them around...
When you take them out again, they've turned a shade of brown!
They're sticky & they're smelly, & they kinda taste like shit...
But if your afraid to taste them, then just give em a good sniff!

© - CS - 2022

[k0nr4d]

Originally Posted by CurrentlySober

i lik pooetery:
Hers is a pooem i wrote

Just stick 2 fingers up your bum, and wiggle them around...
When you take them out again, they've turned a shade of brown!
They're sticky & they're smelly, & they kinda taste like shit...
But if your afraid to taste them, then just give em a good sniff!

© - CS - 2022

One day you will take your rightful place amongst the great poets of history

[JesseQuinn]

Originally Posted by CaptainHowdy

Poetry is nobody’s business except the poet’s,
and everybody else can fuck off.

—Philip Larkin

true motherfucking say

Originally Posted by Klen

I am , i wrote several hundred poems.

it's really cathartic, isn't it

Originally Posted by k0nr4d

One day you will take your rightful place amongst the great poets of history

agreed

Originally Posted by AmeliaG

Oh wow, haven't thought of that Edwin Arlington Robinson poem in forever, but it was such a favorite when I was a kid. Such perfect rhythm, rhyme, and message.

Always thought I should like Plath, but she didn't resonate. In general, I like song lyrics but not so much lines intended to be poetry.

I love Plath but kinda feel ya, I've read her novel The Bell Jar way more times than Ariel. I just love some of the lines in that poem, particularly the last couplet. was a kid when I first read it and first time I dyed my hair (red)

to me music lyrics are often poetry. P.E., Nas, Depeche Mode, Wu Tang, Protege etc etc. they just...hit me in such a good way. and it's not just the beat-it's the words too. I'll never dance to Can't Truss It or A Better Tomorrow but both are pure poetry

anyway, another one for you:

Eros Turannos


She fears him, and will always ask
What fated her to choose him;
She meets in his engaging mask
All reasons to refuse him;
But what she meets and what she fears
Are less than are the downward years,
Drawn slowly to the foamless weirs
Of age, were she to lose him.

Between a blurred sagacity
That once had power to sound him,
And Love, that will not let him be
The Judas that she found him,
Her pride assuages her almost,
As if it were alone the cost.—
He sees that he will not be lost,
And waits and looks around him.

A sense of ocean and old trees
Envelops and allures him;
Tradition, touching all he sees
Beguiles and reassures him;
And all her doubts of what he says
Are dimmed with what she knows of days—
Till even prejudice delays
And fades, and she secures him.

The falling leaf inaugurates
The reign of her confusion;
The pounding wave reverberates
The dirge of her illusion;
And home, where passion lived and died,
Becomes a place where she can hide,
While all the town and harbor side
Vibrate with her seclusion.

We tell you, tapping on our brows,
The story as it should be,—
As if the story of a house
Were told, or ever could be;
We’ll have no kindly veil between
Her visions and those we have seen,—
As if we guessed what hers have been,
Or what they are or would be.

Meanwhile we do no harm; for they
That with a god have striven,
Not hearing much of what we say,
Take what the god has given;
Though like waves breaking it may be,
Or like a changed familiar tree,
Or like a stairway to the sea
Where down the blind are driven


Robinson is def one of my favs


I wasn't sure anyone would even reply in this thread, very cool to come home and see this. y'all are awesome. much love

[Klen]

Originally Posted by JesseQuinn

it's really cathartic, isn't it

It will discover emotions
which you didn't know they exist.
It will fulfill desires
which never meant to be filled.
It will speak to you words
which you never heard before.
It will remind you of memories
which has been forgotten long ago.

[JesseQuinn]

Originally Posted by Klen

It will discover emotions
which you didn't know they exist.
It will fulfill desires
which never meant to be filled.
It will speak to you words
which you never heard before.
It will remind you of memories
which has been forgotten long ago.

beautiful

gracias for sharing <3

[TaiGhost]

Originally Posted by CurrentlySober

i lik pooetery:
Hers is a pooem i wrote

Just stick 2 fingers up your bum, and wiggle them around...
When you take them out again, they've turned a shade of brown!
They're sticky & they're smelly, & they kinda taste like shit...
But if your afraid to taste them, then just give em a good sniff!

© - CS - 2022

Hallmark Cards there you go!

[TaiGhost]

I've read most of the good translations of Rumi. I like Byron, Shelley, T.S. Elliott.
Have written as well though same as Jessie. Mostly internal processing.

[NatalieK]

poetry can be fun, i´ve always enjoyed Spike Milligan

[JesseQuinn]

Originally Posted by TaiGhost

Hallmark Cards there you go!

Originally Posted by TaiGhost

T.S. Eliot

yessss

"Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer were a very notorious couple
of cats.
As knockabout clowns, quick-change comedians, tight-rope
walkers and acrobats
They had extensive reputation. They made their home in
Victoria Grove--
That was merely their centre of operation, for they were
incurably given to rove.

Originally Posted by NatalieK

poetry can be fun, i´ve always enjoyed Spike Milligan

haven't thought about him in several years, and poetry def does not have to be depressing

my fav line of mine by him is

"And God said, 'Let there be light' and there was light, but the Electricity Board said He would have to wait until Thursday to be connected"



to ya both

[Klen]

Originally Posted by JesseQuinn

beautiful

gracias for sharing <3

Found one funny poem:

Diana is my desire
To start my fire
The whole world is on platter
But only her would matter

Thousand souls around world
But only one is the gold
Thousand hits every time
But only one will chime

Will she be my guided missile
Or miss it like missed whistle
Will she by my final word
Or just a single cord

Can we make it to the end
To be away from any bend
Can we pass above the obstacles
To make an tasty popsicles

[JesseQuinn]

Originally Posted by Klen

To be away from any bend
Can we pass above the obstacles
To make an tasty popsicles

I'd like to be a homemade lime tang one por favor

[TaiGhost]

Originally Posted by JesseQuinn

yessss

"Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer were a very notorious couple
of cats.
As knockabout clowns, quick-change comedians, tight-rope
walkers and acrobats
They had extensive reputation. They made their home in
Victoria Grove--
That was merely their centre of operation, for they were
incurably given to rove.





haven't thought about him in several years, and poetry def does not have to be depressing

my fav line of mine by him is

"And God said, 'Let there be light' and there was light, but the Electricity Board said He would have to wait until Thursday to be connected"



to ya both

- Loving your posts.

[JesseQuinn]

Originally Posted by TaiGhost

- Loving your posts.

merci sire


for Amelia:

re track lyrics,

these are some hard one to listen to but so important. and yes, poetry

Can't Truss It- P.E




A Better Tomorrow- Wu Tang




Blue Dress- Depeche Mode




one of my favs by DP is Enjoy the Silence
prolly not appropriate for this thread

plus all he had in his arms was heroin


another one, I do dance to this track even though Protige choked to death on a fucking egg while in hospital for sickle cell treatment

Black or Red they want us dead. they're still digging up the bodies of Native kids killed at residential schools in Canada. some of them had an 80% death rate. the ones that survived suffered unreal abuse. denial of access to fam, their languages, their heritage, physical, sexual, abuse, zero health care you name it

have no idea how the oldest sister (my mom) dropped out of school and managed to get some work to keep those fucking social workers off their doorstep to save her sisters

apologies if I'm getting depressing again but this needs stating. this is important




had a non-platonic friend over last night, we fucked a couple of times but in between had such wicked convos. love (not 'in love', he's just hot, smart and fun and enjoy his company in every way) people who are not boring and more than just a body

anyway, we were discussing at one point injustices in our communities and he intro'ed me to this chica on yt called JessicaOS. her words are meant for dudes but also very instructive to relationship-oriented females (of which I am SO not). but so down with everything she says

pass her on to anyone you think would benefit

[TaiGhost]

One of the truly brilliant writers working in hip-hop

https://genius.com/artists/Krs-one

I met him for music biz once. My editor let me tag along after begging him for a week or so. Super fucking cool.

[candyflip]

One of my business partners has a degree in American Poetry.

[Look Chang]

To stay into GFY spirit --> https://allpoetry.com/poems/about/Pornography

One poem published on this site :

When I was thirteen,
some neighborhood kids and I
found a brown paper bag
by the side of the road,
with a gold mine inside.

We argued,
divvied up the spoils,
and pedaled our bikes home,
booty stashed in waistbands
under sweaty tshirts.

I kept mine hidden under
my mattress, to savor
the glossy images
of those bodies
at my leisure.

Things are different now,
new and improved,
you might say,
for teenagers on phones
and computers.

An endless array of images
open doors those boys never thought
of passing through,
and into forbidden hallways
lit in red and pink,
dim and seductive.

They explore this labyrinth
in dark bedrooms,
drawn to the intensity,
the next strange fetish,
the stronger high,
their faces flushed,
their eyes dilated,

as scowling, incredulous
teenage girlfriends say,
"You want me to do what?"


© 4 years ago, Brian Rihlmann teen • pornography • fantasy

[JesseQuinn]

Originally Posted by TaiGhost

One of the truly brilliant writers working in hip-hop

true say, so jealous you got to meet him

Originally Posted by Look Chang

To stay into GFY spirit --> https://allpoetry.com/poems/about/Pornography

One poem published on this site :

When I was thirteen,
some neighborhood kids and I
found a brown paper bag
by the side of the road,
with a gold mine inside.

We argued,
divvied up the spoils,
and pedaled our bikes home,
booty stashed in waistbands
under sweaty tshirts.

I kept mine hidden under
my mattress, to savor
the glossy images
of those bodies
at my leisure.

Things are different now,
new and improved,
you might say,
for teenagers on phones
and computers.

An endless array of images
open doors those boys never thought
of passing through,
and into forbidden hallways
lit in red and pink,
dim and seductive.

They explore this labyrinth
in dark bedrooms,
drawn to the intensity,
the next strange fetish,
the stronger high,
their faces flushed,
their eyes dilated,

as scowling, incredulous
teenage girlfriends say,
"You want me to do what?"


© 4 years ago, Brian Rihlmann teen • pornography • fantasy

love it


y'all really surprised me here, in this thread. a gift

[CaptainHowdy]

"Y yo soy tu poeta y adentro te entra esta . . ."

- Kaleb Di Masi



"Sometime while night obscures the tree
The zenith of its life will be
Gone past forever, and from thence
A second history will commence . . ."

-Tennessee Williams

[baddog]

The Canterbury Tales by Chaucer is one of the best, followed by Homer's Iliad

[TrafficRush]

Here I sit broken hearted...took a shit and then I farted!

[INever]

https://classicalpoets.org/category/poetry/

[TaiGhost]

Originally Posted by JesseQuinn

true say, so jealous you got to meet him




love it


y'all really surprised me here, in this thread. a gift

Soft spoken. Really mellow personality. Then he detonated on stage. One of the best shows ever.

[MatureKing]

Real POETRY

One night with you (20 stories)

[CaptainHowdy]

Originally Posted by MatureKing

Real POETRY

One night with you (20 stories)

That is not poetry, that is puppetry (which is fine) . . .

[manilaagent]

You would think a good poet is a good rapper?

[TaiGhost]

Originally Posted by manilaagent

You would think a good poet is a good rapper?

The Last Poets were both.

https://youtu.be/UJ-5NFfZTx8

[MatureKing]

Originally Posted by CaptainHowdy

That is not poetry, that is puppetry (which is fine) . . .

Ok ok ok man... be free to discover

[CaptainHowdy]

"The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!"

The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast,
Warm breath, light whisper, tender semi-tone,
Bright eyes, accomplish’d shape, and lang’rous waist!
Faded the flower and all its budded charms,
Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,
Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,
Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise –
Vanish’d unseasonably at shut of eve,
When the dusk holiday – or holinight
Of fragrant-curtain’d love begins to weave
The woof of darkness thick, for hid delight,
But, as I’ve read love’s missal through to-day,
He’ll let me sleep, seeing I fast and pray.

- John Keats

[TheLegacy]

Originally Posted by CaptainHowdy

"The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!"

The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast,
Warm breath, light whisper, tender semi-tone,
Bright eyes, accomplish’d shape, and lang’rous waist!
Faded the flower and all its budded charms,
Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,
Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,
Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise –
Vanish’d unseasonably at shut of eve,
When the dusk holiday – or holinight
Of fragrant-curtain’d love begins to weave
The woof of darkness thick, for hid delight,
But, as I’ve read love’s missal through to-day,
He’ll let me sleep, seeing I fast and pray.

- John Keats

Keats is one of my all time favorites along with a few others like Wilde, Kipling, Frost and others like them.

[JesseQuinn]

Originally Posted by TaiGhost

The Last Poets were both.

Originally Posted by MatureKing

Ok ok ok man... be free to discover

I'd call it abstract poetry. either way, enjoyed your sample MK

Originally Posted by CaptainHowdy

...

sigh, beautiful el C

Originally Posted by TheLegacy

Wilde

now I just need to find my handbag

[MatureKing]

Originally Posted by JesseQuinn

I'd call it abstract poetry. either way, enjoyed your sample MK

Keep it real, Jess

[JesseQuinn]

Originally Posted by MatureKing

Keep it real, Jess

I try


back on topic, or rather a slight deviation but still about poetry of the musical sort

as per the title of this post please sign your organ donor cards (if available in your nation) and let your loved ones know

my dad died earlier this year, but in Canada still need approval from the remaining nuke fam to proceed

was shocked when my mom asked me if I was ok with it; my dad while responsible when it mattered wasn't exactly responsible in other ways

anyway, my answer was of course, fuck yes. it's not like he needed them anymore

my mom sent me photos of 4 anon thank you cards she received via the Kingston (Ontario) organ donor team. they were able to recover one of his lungs (shocking as he smoked almost as much as me), portions of skin for burn victims, veins from his legs for heart issue patients and his eyes. the latter to me was/is the coolest. two people can see again, through my dad's eyes

attended a zoom organ donor tribute thing this afternoon, wasn't sure I'd attend but wrote the tribute spoken in his honor ending with "shine on you crazy diamond". we both loved Floyd

two of my best friends (one the artist I wrote about in another thread) asked me if I wanted them there for support but I figured I might cry and I do NOT cry in front of other people

so watched buttressed by a kitten (all cats are kittens) on either side (my babies are so sweet and intuitive) and copious amounts of herb but still cried like a bitch when dad's tribute came up

he now has his name on a leaf on the tree of life at the Kingston hospital


anyway, we rarely skyped but exchanged a lot of music via email. he sent me pics of the elaborate meals he cooked as well, that I didn't reciprocate as protein shakes and tang slushies aren't exactly exciting

but we absolutely shared a love of math, words and music

two lyrical poems in his honour:

from the same album quoted in his tribute, a fav of both of us:




and my finest achievement in converting him to hip hop:




both absolute poetry (in motion)

and please sign your cards. just cuz you're gone you can't still change other peep's lives

off for a nap with a cold compress over my eyes to reduce the puffiness before my 2nd work shift

[MatureKing]

[CaptainHowdy]

I'm slowly getting back to GFY so . . .

It’s coming — the postponeless Creature —
It gains the Block — and now — it gains the Door —
Chooses its latch, from all the other fastenings —
Enters — with a “You know Me — Sir”?

Simple Salute — and certain Recognition —
Bold — were it Enemy — Brief — were it friend —
Dresses each House in Crape, and Icicle —
And carries one — out of it — to God —

~ Emily Dickinson

[JesseQuinn]

Originally Posted by CaptainHowdy

I'm slowly getting back to GFY so . . .

It’s coming — the postponeless Creature —
It gains the Block — and now — it gains the Door —
Chooses its latch, from all the other fastenings —
Enters — with a “You know Me — Sir”?

Simple Salute — and certain Recognition —
Bold — were it Enemy — Brief — were it friend —
Dresses each House in Crape, and Icicle —
And carries one — out of it — to God —

~ Emily Dickinson

excellent choice, not a general fan of E.D. but that one rocks

so you're getting a new sig soon, am I still gonna be able to decorate your avatar? either way you know I adore you

I stare at words that mean nothing

that poem so not cheery enough for the forum

[CaptainHowdy]

Originally Posted by JesseQuinn

cheery

The Nameless One

Tell thou the world, when my bones lie whitening
Amid the last homes of youth and eld,
That there was once one whose blood ran lightning
No eye beheld.
And tell how trampled, derided, hated,
And worn by weakness, disease and wrong,
He fled for shelter to God, who mated
His soul with song.
Go on to tell how, with genius wasted,
Betrayed in friendship, befooled in love,
With spirit shipwrecked and young hopes blasted,
He still, still strove.
And tell how now, amid wreck and sorrow,
And want and sickness and houseless nights,
He bides in calmness the silent morrow,
That no ray lights.
And lives he still then? Yes. Old and hoary
At thirty-nine from despair and woe,
He lives enduring what future story
Will never know.
Him grant a grave to, ye pitying noble,
Deep in your bosoms. There let him dwell.
He too had tears for all souls in trouble
Here and in Hell.

~ James Clarence Mangan

[Mr Pheer]

Will Smith, a 10yr old in 1980:

I have a buddy
My buddy is a toad.
He's kind of muddy
and flat in the road.
But he's my buddy, my buddy to stay
Until he is peeled up, and sailed away.

I was never asked to write another poem in the 4th grade.

[JesseQuinn]

Originally Posted by CaptainHowdy

...

excellent

To be Irish is to know that in the end the world will break your heart.

-Daniel Patrick Moynihan

Originally Posted by Mr Pheer

Will Smith, a 10yr old in 1980:

I have a buddy
My buddy is a toad.
He's kind of muddy
and flat in the road.
But he's my buddy, my buddy to stay
Until he is peeled up, and sailed away.

I was never asked to write another poem in the 4th grade.

if you weren't plagiarizing Garfield you'd be the Bard of gfy =p


You have to be always drunk. That’s all there is to it—it’s the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.

But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.

-Baudelaire

[Mr Pheer]

Originally Posted by JesseQuinn

excellent
if you weren't plagiarizing Garfield you'd be the Bard of gfy =p

Actually it was Jon, but yeah

I only remember it because I actually turned it in as my assignment

[sarettah]

the thunder roared
the lightning flashed
the tree fell down
and the frog got smashed

someone, somewhere, long time ago

.

[JesseQuinn]

Originally Posted by sarettah

...

someone, somewhere, long time ago

.

for real you and Pheer need to lay off the cru$h porn

besides, I hear live toads are super fun to lick

[fastball]

Originally Posted by JesseQuinn

for real you and Pheer need to lay off the cru$h porn

besides, I hear live toads are super fun to lick

The thunder rolls, and the lightnin' strikes
Another love grows cold on a sleepless night
As the storm blows on out of control
Deep in her heart the thunder rolls

I interviewed Garth, and we had lunch. He is a poet, Jesse Quinn.

[MatureKing]

UP!

ONE NIGHT WITH YOU - (20 STORIES) - YOU BET!

[sarettah]

Elenore, gee I think you're swell
And you really do me well
You're my pride and joy et cetera


(Kaylan)

[sarettah]

Met you, brushing your hair with the wind
Riding your bike up on Mulholland Drive

Oh, I got a five minute rush from
You in your faded blue jeans

How many years is it you’ve been alive?
Oh I’ll take a guess

Rebecca, could it be eighteen, nineteen or so
Rebecca, will I ever know?

No way, how will I fit in your life?
How could you live with a man without change?

Too strange and too poor to be trusted
Busted a couple of times

Shaken a bit by the years on the road
And the women I’ve known

Rebecca, you’d have liked the name I gave to you
Rebecca, if you only knew…

Go home, to your father’s friend’s
straight sons

To your mother’s friend’s
sweet ones

To the families,
so well-to-do and so well-established and

One day, you might wake up to a shock girl
What has it come to?… this sensible life

The wife of a fool…

Rebecca, reading magazines in a chic salon
Rebecca… where’s Rebecca gone?

(Volman/Kaylan)

[CaptainHowdy]

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

~ Matthew Arnold