p.s. ha, i can't find him... is Kooser the full screenname?
cheers,
Huck
my book
Kooser is a rather well known poet.
Detach your ego from your poem, step back and maybe you'll see that what you have posted is quite awful (not your readers).
L
p.s. I'm trying to do you favor. Certainly I can't be the first to have told you this?
Detach your ego from your poem, step back and maybe you'll see that what you have posted is quite awful (not your readers).
L
p.s. I'm trying to do you favor. Certainly I can't be the first to have told you this?
I simply cannot see where there is to get to. Plath
Even despots have access to 'Welcome' mats. Me
Desperation is easily confused with enthusiasm. Me
Even despots have access to 'Welcome' mats. Me
Desperation is easily confused with enthusiasm. Me
aha! i got the wrong end of the stick and looked for him here. heh. 
why not try detaching your ego from your opinion? you are not trying to do me a favour; if you are, your tone is completely wrong. of course i have had criticisms before, and where i have found the comments and suggestions to be sound, i have taken them on board. in this case, however, i really feel that you just don't like my poetry! that's fine, and judging by the poems on this board which you praise, i can rest quite easy.
why not try detaching your ego from your opinion? you are not trying to do me a favour; if you are, your tone is completely wrong. of course i have had criticisms before, and where i have found the comments and suggestions to be sound, i have taken them on board. in this case, however, i really feel that you just don't like my poetry! that's fine, and judging by the poems on this board which you praise, i can rest quite easy.
I'd like to take back the part where I second what Laurie said. I don't think it was very nice of me.
I stand by everything else I said.
Not understanding a poem is not always the fault of the reader. I am intelligent. I tend undermine my interpretations of poetry because lit is not my field, but I think I am capable of figuring things out pretty well if there's something to figure out.
I stand by everything else I said.
Not understanding a poem is not always the fault of the reader. I am intelligent. I tend undermine my interpretations of poetry because lit is not my field, but I think I am capable of figuring things out pretty well if there's something to figure out.
ha, well, the truth will out... the fact is your critique amounts to "i don't like this", and that's why i can't take your feedback seriously, or to heart. i have ears, but also convictions.Alan Alda wrote:Actually Huck, its come to the point where I feel sorry for your poetry, and dislike you.
toodles,
Laurie
of course it's not always the fault of the reader. i could make clarity the number one factor of everything i write, but i would feel i was trying to spoonfeed the reader. i happen to like wordplay and elaborate forms, and i would say that a flaw of this poem is that it is not very emotive; it is perhaps more about style. nevertheless, it is what it is.Manna wrote:I'd like to take back the part where I second what Laurie said. I don't think it was very nice of me.
I stand by everything else I said.
Not understanding a poem is not always the fault of the reader. I am intelligent. I tend undermine my interpretations of poetry because lit is not my field, but I think I am capable of figuring things out pretty well if there's something to figure out.
i'd be very interested to see what you guys think is an example of this membership's best work. humour me?
You could find these yourself, but here are some of my faves of my own that I've posted here:
1. Myth of Wisdom (this one is about LC, though it's not all that complimentary. Sorry, Leonard.)
2. Memory holds a moment (I like this one a lot, it may be my No. 1.)
3. Midnight Whiskey (A fun one)
4. When Leonard Dies
5. and back again (Too new to know if I like it yet, but so far, I do)
And I'm just about to post one called Birthmark that I like a lot.
1. Myth of Wisdom (this one is about LC, though it's not all that complimentary. Sorry, Leonard.)
2. Memory holds a moment (I like this one a lot, it may be my No. 1.)
3. Midnight Whiskey (A fun one)
4. When Leonard Dies
5. and back again (Too new to know if I like it yet, but so far, I do)
And I'm just about to post one called Birthmark that I like a lot.
-
Byron
- Posts: 3171
- Joined: Tue Nov 26, 2002 3:01 pm
- Location: Mad House, Eating Tablets, Cereals, Jam, Marmalade and HONEY, with Albert
Huck, do you have any examples of your own in haiku form?
The reason I ask, is to see how you manage to distil.
Because you asked, this is one of my forum poems.
Winter Feeding
January.
Sitting at peace, content
peering through french doors
ignoring my reflection.
Birds ignore me
Three bird feeders
catching the rhythm
swing on pollarded remains
of autumn’s last chop
A trinity of reserve,
hope for this winter
One, a basket of suet
to clothe fragile bones
Two, a station of black sunflower seeds;
oil for joints and aerial locomotion
Three, a tower of seeds with ports of call
for almost one and all, almost
Visitors aplenty passing through
jostle for life on invisible stairs
Alpha male sparrow sporting cravat
barging into tiniest gaps, scattering seeds
unaware of his bounty
to those below
Elegant greenfinch, tubby blue tit, corporal chaffinch
deploying beaks in short sharp attacks
on suet, seed, nut
House sparrows
helicopter in
with flying school precision
A dip, a dart, a weave
of near misses
as a great tit fails
to master the art
of bilocation
while pushy Robin flicks his tail with affectation
Aloft, a magpie’s crackling announcement
introduces her handsome cousin:
Jay (kingfisher blue tuxedo)
floats to the catwalk
struts his stuff
and is gone
Courting collared doves meander
in pairs through priapic shoots
delicately picking
at the entree between
Food to stand in stead
against chills that take no prisoner
A wren peeps from the blackness below
waiting her turn, weighing the odds, wavering
vanishes.
The reason I ask, is to see how you manage to distil.
Because you asked, this is one of my forum poems.
Winter Feeding
January.
Sitting at peace, content
peering through french doors
ignoring my reflection.
Birds ignore me
Three bird feeders
catching the rhythm
swing on pollarded remains
of autumn’s last chop
A trinity of reserve,
hope for this winter
One, a basket of suet
to clothe fragile bones
Two, a station of black sunflower seeds;
oil for joints and aerial locomotion
Three, a tower of seeds with ports of call
for almost one and all, almost
Visitors aplenty passing through
jostle for life on invisible stairs
Alpha male sparrow sporting cravat
barging into tiniest gaps, scattering seeds
unaware of his bounty
to those below
Elegant greenfinch, tubby blue tit, corporal chaffinch
deploying beaks in short sharp attacks
on suet, seed, nut
House sparrows
helicopter in
with flying school precision
A dip, a dart, a weave
of near misses
as a great tit fails
to master the art
of bilocation
while pushy Robin flicks his tail with affectation
Aloft, a magpie’s crackling announcement
introduces her handsome cousin:
Jay (kingfisher blue tuxedo)
floats to the catwalk
struts his stuff
and is gone
Courting collared doves meander
in pairs through priapic shoots
delicately picking
at the entree between
Food to stand in stead
against chills that take no prisoner
A wren peeps from the blackness below
waiting her turn, weighing the odds, wavering
vanishes.
"Bipolar is a roller-coaster ride without a seat belt. One day you're flying with the fireworks; for the next month you're being scraped off the trolley" I said that.
-
Byron
- Posts: 3171
- Joined: Tue Nov 26, 2002 3:01 pm
- Location: Mad House, Eating Tablets, Cereals, Jam, Marmalade and HONEY, with Albert
This is a recent one
During The Falling Of Leaves.
During the falling of leaves
‘tween dusky Angelus
and the bursting Sun
I think of you
Last prayers to rising
Heavy lids through dreams
Slippers to alarms
I think of you
Sinking to waking
Vixen’s cry to cockerel
Off to switch on
I think of you
‘neath covers to suits
cotton to linen
cocoa to coffee
I think of you
I think of you
You may also wish to read, I'll Be Along Soon, in the members' poetry section as well?
During The Falling Of Leaves.
During the falling of leaves
‘tween dusky Angelus
and the bursting Sun
I think of you
Last prayers to rising
Heavy lids through dreams
Slippers to alarms
I think of you
Sinking to waking
Vixen’s cry to cockerel
Off to switch on
I think of you
‘neath covers to suits
cotton to linen
cocoa to coffee
I think of you
I think of you
You may also wish to read, I'll Be Along Soon, in the members' poetry section as well?
"Bipolar is a roller-coaster ride without a seat belt. One day you're flying with the fireworks; for the next month you're being scraped off the trolley" I said that.
A Poem Shouldn't Mean But Be
I once returned an item to a produce manager (a bruised tomato) and told him "the corporal integrity of this product is no longer intact."
After a triple take, he said - you mean it's damaged.
Huck - a damaged tomato can be used in a salad or thrown out
unless rewritten, a damaged poem can't be sold.
Ted Kooser was the 13th Poet Laureate of the US. He felt that his poems should be as clear and succinct as possible to respect his readers.
kokenpere
After a triple take, he said - you mean it's damaged.
Huck - a damaged tomato can be used in a salad or thrown out
unless rewritten, a damaged poem can't be sold.
Ted Kooser was the 13th Poet Laureate of the US. He felt that his poems should be as clear and succinct as possible to respect his readers.
kokenpere
thanks Byron. i'll read these and get back to you.
kokenpere, you miss the point. nobody has proved the failure of the poem; they have only expressed a conflict with their personal taste, and even admitted to not understanding. i cannot be expected to listen to criticism if i genuinely feel it is facile.
as for Kooser - well, good for him. "clear and succinct" is a very noble ideal, and that's probably what made him the laureate. however, that does not mean everyone should follow suit. if they did, we would not have Cummings, or Ginsberg, or Kerouac. obviously i will never be as good as them, but their success proves there's a market for poetry that doesn't discard flair and complexity in favour of clarity.
kokenpere, you miss the point. nobody has proved the failure of the poem; they have only expressed a conflict with their personal taste, and even admitted to not understanding. i cannot be expected to listen to criticism if i genuinely feel it is facile.
as for Kooser - well, good for him. "clear and succinct" is a very noble ideal, and that's probably what made him the laureate. however, that does not mean everyone should follow suit. if they did, we would not have Cummings, or Ginsberg, or Kerouac. obviously i will never be as good as them, but their success proves there's a market for poetry that doesn't discard flair and complexity in favour of clarity.
I enjoyed your poem Byron,
That's how it reads for me, anyway.
Regards, Matj
Huck, I know how you feel about Lauries comments. He had a shot at one of my poems awhile ago. I got defensive. My mistake.
It is no point trying to justify your work. Just write and take on board the criticisms, they are often accurate, and first up, hard to swallow.
Move on and post another of yours that you like.
Regards, Matj.
During The Falling Of Leaves.
I like the way the recurring "you" in your poem could be one you love and miss, your own soul, or it could be God.I think of you
That's how it reads for me, anyway.
Regards, Matj
Huck, I know how you feel about Lauries comments. He had a shot at one of my poems awhile ago. I got defensive. My mistake.
It is no point trying to justify your work. Just write and take on board the criticisms, they are often accurate, and first up, hard to swallow.
Move on and post another of yours that you like.
Regards, Matj.
"Without light or guide, save that which burned in my heart." San Juan de la Cruz.