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[personal profile] alexconall
Once there was a girl; once there was a girl. Women, both, really. Her name was Lien; her name was Michelle. After Lien met Michelle, she copied out this poem and gave it to Michelle.

Fragment 31
Sappho tr. Anne Carson

He seems to me equal to gods that man )

Sappho. The most readily recognized queer female poet in the world. Not, probably, the first—that honor may go to Enheduanna, the first poet whose name we know. But the most recognizable name among queer female poets, and Sappho 31 may be her best-known poem.

All is to be dared, Sappho wrote. So Lien dared. But the rest of the poem, unless the last stanza of Catullus 51 is an accurate translation (unlikely), is lost.

Source: If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho, Anne Carson
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[personal profile] poetree_admin
“Each time is true, but the truths are not the same.”

    ― Alan Lightman, Einstein's Dreams

What's the time? Depends on who you ask — and where you're standing. To someone on a planet 63 light years away, the year on Earth is 1951. To a fly, 'now' is quite literally longer. ("Research suggests perception of time is linked to size, explaining why insects find it easy to avoid being swatted.")

The rate of our metabolisms are linked to the span of our lives in ways we do not fully understand. Our cells oscillate with the earth passing around the sun, our clocks are calibrated to hyperfine transitions of atoms, and age like time proves relative over and over again.

This week, we explore perceptions of time through poetry. Please see the schedule below to orient yourself temporally:

Wednesday: [personal profile] alee_grrl: Playing with Time - Prompt and Response Game

Thursday: [personal profile] jjhunter: Poem: "around the day (circadian)"

Friday: [personal profile] kaberett: Time Heals All Wounds

Saturday: [personal profile] ysabetwordsmith, Time: A Weapon of Mass Destruction & Poem: "A One-Way Trip"

Last edited 4/5/14 by jjhunter
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[personal profile] pt_lightningmod
[community profile] pt_lightning would like to welcome [community profile] poetree members to join us this March for Round 3 of Pod Together Lightning!

This week the [community profile] pt_lightning admins, [personal profile] somnolentblue and [personal profile] fleurrochard, are collaborating with [personal profile] poetree_admin to bring you a week of tie-in activities leading up to this Saturday, when sign-ups officially open. Today, we're saying hello (hello!). Our plans for the rest of the week include a short form poetry game, this round's official trailer, a coffee house meet 'n greet, and more.

Pod Together Lightning Round 3, March 2014
One Month, One Fanwork
Sign-ups open March 1

Pod Together Lightning is a quickfire collaboration challenge. Inspired by [community profile] pod_together, writers and podficcers work together over the course of a month to create a fanwork of at least 100 words. It could be short and sweet or long and savory, something you've never tried before or something you've always loved doing -- whatever your partnership decides. Join us and collaborate, create, and have fun!

Schedule )

Ways you can participate )

Where to find more information and fanworks from previous rounds )

If you have any initial questions or would like to discuss something, you can leave a comment here or find the [community profile] pt_lightning admins at [ profile] pt_lightning.
poetree_admin: Paper sculpture of bulbuous tree made from strips of book pages (Default)
[personal profile] poetree_admin
The way we see the world is shaped in part by the way we see the world: it's easier to notice and remember what you have ready words (and ready stories) for. As language less welded to convention, language that innovates and rewords, language that unsettles at times as much as connects — poetry speaks to the heart of politics: who constitutes 'we'; what's worthy of notice; how should people and institutions relate to each other.

This week we communal we offer each other a feast of poets and poetry in dialogue with bodies politic.

Tuesday: [personal profile] jjhunter: Taxonomists 'R Us: Phylogeny of Political Metaphor

Wednesday: [personal profile] leek: Carolyn Forche

Thursday: [personal profile] raze: Politics, Poetry, and Pride: Langston Hughes & the Harlem Renaissance

Friday: [personal profile] anonymous_sibyl: Re-crafting Competing Narratives: Finding The Role of the Poet in the Palestinian-Israeli Conflict

Saturday: [personal profile] kaberett: Powerful words: the personal is political

Last edited 2/22/14 by jjhunter
jjhunter: Drawing of human JJ in ink tinted with blue watercolor; woman wearing glasses with arched eyebrows (JJ inked)
[personal profile] jjhunter
"Before we can be poets, we must practice"

—Mary Oliver, 'A Poetry Handbook'

J.J. here, returning to host this week on poetry as craft, one that can be cultivated and refined through practice. A little about myself, for those who don't know me from the previous times I've hosted: I'm a pupal neuroscientist and poet, neither fully accredited* (yet) or just starting out in either field. As such, I'm drawn to experimentation when it comes to poetry, and to metacognition — thinking about how I think — about writing poetry.

So. What makes a person a poet? Or perhaps I should say — what makes a person a memorable poet in a good way? ([personal profile] lnhammer might argue writing very bad poetry is both memorable and skilled, but those depths are not ones most of us aspire to!) Going by most dictionaries, anyone who creates poems is a poet. Would you agree? Myself, I go one step further: I think anyone who makes a practice of creating poems is a poet. To make a practice of poetry is, as I see it, to regularly realize what would otherwise be theoretical ('I'd like to write poetry more' etc.), and also to practice poetry: to exercise one's ear for the rhythm and sound of language, to sharpen the precision of one's diction, to experiment with form and syntax and the turning of lines, and most of all to integrate time & occasion to read, write, discuss, ferment poetry and poetic play into one's everyday life.

This week, I'll share with you some ways I've tried engineering "time & occasion" for poetry into my own life, and offer a sampling of resulting poems. In the meantime, I open the floor to you: do you make a practice of poetry yourself? Why or why not? Are there exercises along the lines of [personal profile] melannen's Some Exercises in the Craft of Writing that you think would be especially appropriate to writing poetry?

* )
poetree_admin: Paper sculpture of bulbuous tree made from strips of book pages (Default)
[personal profile] poetree_admin
November commemorates. From rituals of remembrance to those of harvest, we make honored space for death as part and apart from life.

As our dead are especially present this month, our community themed week this week focuses on remembrance. Let's introduce each other to those we carry with us. Let's make a kind and listening space for the absences that shape (and sometimes shake) us.

Monday: [personal profile] alee_grrl: November Remembrances

Tuesday: [personal profile] ysabetwordsmith: veterans and war memorials, Poem: Written in Stone

Wednesday: [personal profile] bookblather: Poem: Death Sucks: A Sonnet Cycle, by Jo Walton

Thursday: [personal profile] raze: Exploring The Rainbow Bridge

Friday: [personal profile] cadenzamuse: In Memoriam: Cards, Words, Pomegranates

Saturday: [personal profile] kaberett and [personal profile] jjhunter: Collaborative Poem: branches reaching deep into the earth

Last edited 11/24/13 by alee_grrl

On loss

Oct. 1st, 2013 08:06 pm
kaberett: Photo of a pile of old leather-bound books. (books)
[personal profile] kaberett
Hey. I'm Alex; you might have seen me around here before. I'm hosting this week, and I'm going to be focusing on change: all else aside, this weekend I moved cities and started a new job. So. I'm going to start by introducing you to a poem about loss.

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

—-Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

-- Elizabeth Bishop

Loss is not, of course, the only form of change, and I'll be talking more about several of the others over the course of this week. I'm sorry that all I have to offer you today is this poem, but I'd love for you to talk about your own favourites on this topic, or to talk about this poem. (I love, too, the odd constraints of the villanelle, and how they always feel slightly uncomfortable to me. This is reflected, I think, in my favourite villanelles, which are all, yes, about uncomfortable topics.)
highlyeccentric: (Sydney Bridge)
[personal profile] highlyeccentric
Greetings, [community profile] poetree! At the prompting of [personal profile] jjhunter, I shall be popping in a few times this week to share reflections on my poetry project for 2013.

A poem a day (or thereabouts): Since January I've been aiming to post five poems a week as public posts on my DW. What's actually turned out to happen is that I post daily for a stretch of time, then go silent whenever I have to be away from home, then come back and post daily again. These are not original poetry, but a sort of scrapbook of poems I've read.

The whys and wherefores: I don't know that I could put my finger on a good reason why I'm doing this. I'm pretty sure my psychologist would disapprove of it as an exercise in rigid goal-setting and holding oneself to arbitrary standards, but let's just not tell her, ok? There are some not-great reasons, like knowing that as a medievalist trying to turn into an English lit scholar, I'm remarkably under-read and afraid of getting into 'But of course you've read...' conversations (but then, my reading choices have hardly been Classic Poetry of the English Language).

I think I wanted to carve out some kind of creative reading practice. Some of this is because scholarship has eaten my brain, and I struggle with reading for fun with no measurable output (but where are the citations?). Some of it is that I no longer write poetry: I accepted some years ago that I can write creatively, or I can write analytical non-fiction, but I don't seem to be able to do both. I came to terms with that in respect to fiction fairly easily, but I mourned poetry for some time. Eventually it occured to me that to be a reader of poetry might fill that gap, and, well, a year's program seemed like a structured way to test that hypothesis.

Ed: how do tags work around here?
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[personal profile] poetree_admin
"Of the nine books of lyrics that Sappho is said to have composed, one poem has survived complete. All the rest are fragments."

"Hellenistic poets called her 'the tenth Muse' or 'the mortal Muse'"

    - 'Introduction', If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho - Anne Carson.

Our central text for this week comes to us from more than two thousand five hundred years in the past. Sappho's original poem would have been lyric in the oldest sense of the word: intended for singing or chanting with musical lyre accompaniment. That the words, if not the music, were transcribed and treasured is testament both to their power and to how highly Sappho was regarded by her contemporaries and later generations. Centuries after her death, the Library of Alexandria staff collected every surviving poem of hers into nine papyrus scroll books, and listed Sappho as one of the nine ancient Greek 'lyric poets' most worthy of close study. In other words, Sappho was regularly listed in the ancient 'top ten nine' in her chosen art - no easy feat for any poet working in that tradition, let alone a female one.

The Library of Alexandria burned. Julius Caesar set fire to it; Emperor Aurelian burnt the entire city quarter to the ground; its daughter library in the Serapeum was destroyed, possibly by Pope Theophilus; no one knows for sure if there was a library left to burn by the time commander Amr ibn Al-Asi came conquering. The wonder is not that there is only one whole poem of Sappho's left; the wonder is that there are any fragments left at all, and that we can still find meaning in them after such millennia.

This week, we will explore Fragment 16 primarily in translation, re-examining it in light of its cultural and historical contexts, reimagining it as set to music, remixing it into new poetry, and revisiting more generally how we make sense of gaps in our record & our understanding of the past.

Monday: [personal profile] rainjoy: Greek Conceptions of Beauty, and Other Notes on Translation

Tuesday: [personal profile] luzula: Sappho's 16th fragment set to music

Wednesday: [personal profile] poetree_admin: ['free space of imaginal adventure' in honor of missing matter]

Thursday: [personal profile] alexconall: advancing Sappho into the English-speaking modern day [remix poem]

Friday: [personal profile] kaberett: Ringing steel, or, resonance

Saturday: [personal profile] cirque: Small Miracles

Last edited 9/21/13 by jjhunter
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[personal profile] elisabethhewer
Hello, everyone! My name's Ellie and I'm incredibly flattered to have been asked to host this week on POETREE by [personal profile] jjhunter , who found me on tumblr some time ago. I'm afraid I'm new to the community and the way things work around here, but I'm really excited to get to know you and to have the opportunity to discuss poetry more in-depth.

A brief bit of background about myself: I'm twenty years old and highly amateur when it comes to poetry. I honestly have no rhyme or reason to the way I write, and it's still a mystery to me that anybody is interested in reading my poems at all. I'd very much like to take a course to learn more about all the different ways one can format a poem, but as I'm still unsure with most of them, my poetry is all just freestyle at the moment.

I write about what I used to think was a varied number of subjects, but in fact there are some pretty basic themes that I just attempt to tackle over and over again: my relationship with God and Christianity, love, and feminism (in historic as well as contemporary settings). Poetry is sort of my way of attempting to organise my thoughts into something coherent, as otherwise they fly around my head in a very jumbled manner. I'd like to share an example of each of these themes with you over the course of the week and find out if I've managed to convey any hint of my stance towards them all!

You can find my poems on my tumblr page for now - I'm hoping to summon up the courage to submit some to a few journals in the future!

Thank you very much for reading this, and if it's alright with you I'd love to start off by asking a little bit about you all - the sort of thing you prefer to read and/or write poetry about; and also (if you are willing to share) your stance towards the religion you were raised in if you were at all. This is a subject of intense fascination to me and one that colours a lot of my own thinking and writing.
alexconall: the Pleiades (Default)
[personal profile] alexconall
feminist author poet
social justice bard

meet [personal profile] alexconall
[community profile] poetree host for this week

Today I'd like to talk about how my [community profile] pod_together project, "The Fairest Of Them All", came to be.

I don't remember when I got the idea to write a collection of princess-focused fairy tales retold in a feminist fashion. I didn't mention it in the bio included in A Dinner of Herbs in late March; the first instance of the title Self-Rescuing Princess in my email history was in mid-May, the first instance of the previous title at the end of April, so it must have been sometime in April.

It's coincidence, I swear, that I registered for a women's studies course on Disney for summer of 2013.

I saw the [community profile] pod_together signups when [community profile] poetree first mentioned them, I think. I didn't sign up, because [community profile] pod_together is a fannish challenge and I haven't been feeling very fannish since I began my slow slide out of Supernatural fandom sometime circa the airing of the first episode of season eight, last fall. Then [community profile] poetree started hosting the [community profile] pod_together-affiliated icebreaker week, for participants and nonparticipants alike. I commented explaining in tanka why I didn't sign up. [personal profile] jjhunter reminded me, also in tanka, that transformative work of public domain materials counted and expressed an interest in reading my work. It so happened that that was the first week of class, and one of the assigned viewings was Disney's Snow White.

Hexameter seemed to fit my reply, I was already thinking about writing a feminist retelling of Snow White, and I needed a rhyme for 'readers'. I said, "No, brain, I will not write Snow White in hexameter."

Under three hours later, I had a third of what became "The Fairest Of Them All". And it was too late to sign up for [community profile] pod_together.

Story of my life, y'all.

During the week I'll be posting short reflections on the process of the project, and on Saturday, I'll post the poem in its entirety.
primeideal: Multicolored sideways eight (infinity sign) (Default)
[personal profile] primeideal
 Hey, I'm primeideal and I'll be hosting a week on "digital found poetry." I'm not really crazy about this name, but I don't know what to call these various web sites I'll be writing about--to me they're all under the same umbrella, but it's hard to pin down how, exactly, to describe the umbrella.
Most of these can be considered some forms of "found poetry," which is a catch-all term to generally refer to language that's found in a context other than consciously-created poetry, that's later reinterpreted as poetic by some other person.
In general, I personally don't enjoy most found poetry. Or, put another way, I don't share the mindset that seems to lie behind some (though not all) found poetry--if there's a sort of self-imposed humility, a fear that being deliberate in picking one's own words is passe, or that it's cool and newfangled to "poetically" "interpret" someone else's text instead.
However, I do enjoy texts that correspond to formal constraints. And in this day and age, it's easier than ever to--not only have a large corpus of text to sort through--but to come up with automated ways of parsing it and pointing out various coincidences. So, throughout the week, I'll be looking at different ways people have used the social networking sites Twitter and/or Tumblr--as well as more old-fashioned sources, like the New York Times--to share snippets of interesting text. Coincidences and formal wordplay abound, but meaning is--as always--what you make of it.
poetree_admin: Paper sculpture of bulbuous tree made from strips of book pages (Default)
[personal profile] poetree_admin
  • diction (dikSHən), noun: the choice and use of words and phrases in speech or writing

  • dicty (dɪkti) AAVE, adjective: snobbish; ostentatiously stylish; pretentious

  • delight (diˈlīt), noun: great pleasure

As detailed in the signup post, this week we dart delightedly into wordplay, word choice, and words themselves as whimsy-worthy of celebration in their own right.

MONDAY: [personal profile] lizcommotion: 'To Dye Today' [poem]

TUESDAY: [personal profile] poetree_admin: Alliterative Amusements [wordplay game]

WEDNESDAY: [personal profile] raze: 'Bird is the Word' [poem]

THURSDAY: Day of silver silence

FRIDAY: [personal profile] lnhammer: Dictioning Hopkins's "The Windhover"

SATURDAY: Day of silver silence II

Last edited 7/28/13 by jjhunter
poetree_admin: Paper sculpture of bulbuous tree made from strips of book pages (Default)
[personal profile] poetree_admin
As part of our collaboration with this year's Pod Together challenge, this week POETREE is hosting a parallel two-week icebreaker focusing on helping people of all skill levels warm up their creative juices, get acquainted with the resources [community profile] poetree has to offer, and get oriented re: the challenges and pleasures unique to creating poetry rather than prose for such a challenge.

We hope all of you, [community profile] pod_together participants and the broader [community profile] poetree community alike, have fun with what we have planned.

This week's schedule behind the cut )

Last edited 7/7/13 by jjhunter
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[personal profile] poetree_admin

As written or spoken language in extraordinary form, poetry is a natural home for metaphor and emotional intensity. Feelings that may be difficult to express in everyday language find potent release in matching the form and feel of words and their meanings more tightly to their intended effect.

Thus, the closer we get to talking about what is not ordinarily said, or deeply personal, or complicated and achingly vulnerable - in short, the closer we get to emotional intimacy - the more we turn to song and poetry to bypass the usual boundaries of polite distance and speak heart-to-heart.

This week at POETREE, we hope you will join us in letting go a little of that protective distance, and engage openly and honestly with our various hosts' offerings on the theme of emotional intimacy.

Schedule behind the cut )

Last edited 6/23/13 by jjhunter
cadenzamuse: Cross-legged girl literally drawing the world around her into being (Default)
[personal profile] cadenzamuse
Hi! I'm [personal profile] cadenzamuse, and I'm hosting a week on some Atlanta spoken word/slam poets that I like.

I am not a slam or spoken word poet, so I don't know very much about it other than a: it's an out loud/performed type of poetry and b: I like it. So I turned to Wikipedia to learn about the basics.

Wikipedia says that modern spoken-word poetry originated from the poetry of the Harlem Renaissance and was also shaped by the beatniks. It has deep roots in Black culture and politics.

Poetry slams are spoken-word poetry competitions that started in the mid-1980s. Slam poetry has roots in dub poetry and hip-hop (which are also both often political art forms).

But that's really dry. So how about some spoken word self-definitions?

Become a slam poet in five steps, by Gayle Danley
Transcript from Youtube, with ersatz stanza breaks by cadenzamuse )

Some questions to discuss:
  • Have you encountered spoken word poetry before? What have you liked or disliked about it?
  • How do you define spoken word poetry?
  • How is spoken word poetry similar to or different from other forms of poetry developed by oppressed populations?

Some things to try:
  • Write a spoken word poem following the steps laid out by Gayle Danley. Feel free to share it with us!
  • If you have some extra time, watch another excellent introduction to spoken word poetry at the TED Talk "If I Should Have a Daughter" by Sarah Kay.
poetree_admin: Paper sculpture of bulbuous tree made from strips of book pages (Default)
[personal profile] poetree_admin

This week we are celebrating and exploring the poetry of Dr. Seuss. The son of German immigrants and brewmasters, Theodor Seuss Geisel was born in Springfield, Massachusetts in 1904. He developed a love of rhyme as a child, and credited his mother, Henrietta Seuss Geisel, with instilling this love. She had chanted little rhymes to soothe her children to sleep. He started using Seuss, the middle name he shared with his mother, as a pseudonym while attending Dartmouth College. After he graduated from Dartmouth, he briefly attended Oxford University, where he met his first wife, Helen Palmer. After returning from a tour of Europe, he pursued a career as a cartoonist.

Much of his early career was spent doing advertisements for Standard Oil Company. But as World War II approached, Seuss began doing political cartoons for PM, a liberal magazine. He also joined Frank Capra's Signal Corps, where he helped making training films. This is where he learned the art of animation. During this time he was commissioned by Viking Press to illustrate a selection of children's sayings, and while the book wasn't a huge success his illustrations were met with critical acclaim. This would lead to his first children's book, To Think that I Saw It on Mulberry Street. He went on to write and illustrate 44 children's books before his death in 1991, and his works have continued to inspire children and adults. For more on his fascinating life, please see: "Dr. Seuss" Biography, and the Dr. Seuss wikipedia article.

This week we are going to be exploring and celebrating Seuss's poetry in a variety of ways, including a tongue twister-challenge, a new Climbing the Poet's Tree writing challenge, and some in depth exploration of individual poems. There are still open spots if you are interested in participating!

This week's schedule )

Last edited 12/4/13 by jjhunter
lnhammer: lo-fi photo of a tall, thin man - caption: "some guy" (Default)
[personal profile] lnhammer
I have what has sometimes been described[1] as an unfortunate taste for bad poetry. I relish it the way some people enjoy bad movies or bad novels. I'm talking about the sort of stuff where, if you meet a line like Of compost shall the Muse disdain to sing?[2] the answer will invariably and unfortunately be No.

And just as there are qualities of badness that make something a "good bad movie" enjoyable, or as TV Tropes puts it So Bad It's Good, so for poetry. The best bad verse reaches beyond the creator's abilities. Ye average teen angst verse has nothing on William McGonagall — of whom more anon. Mere technical incompetence is not enough, however. There must be more.

Such as bathos — the "art of sinking," as Pope & Co. called it. High-flown imagery soaring into a mundane thump is a wondrous thing.
But ah! when first to breathe man does begin
He then inhales the noxious seeds of sin,
Which every goodly feeling does destroy
And more or less his after-life annoy.[3]

And then there's disjoints between style and substance:
"Lord Byron" was an Englishman
    A poet I believe,
His first works in old England
    Was poorly received.
Perhaps it was "Lord Byron's" fault
    And perhaps it was not.
His life was full of misfortunes,
    Ah, strange was his lot.[4]

Victories of sound over sense:
In the music of the morns,
Blown through Conchimarian horns,
Down the dark vistas of the reboantic Norns,
To the Genius of Eternity,
Crying: "Come to me! Come to me!"[5]

Tin ears:
When I came to the little rose-colour'd room,
   From the curtains out flew a bat.
The window stood open: and in the gloom
   My love at the window sat.[6]

Underbaked diction:
And now, kind friends, what I have wrote,
   I hope you will pass o'er,
And not to criticise as some have done
   Hitherto herebefore.[7]

Overheated diction:
"Ne'er will I quit th' undeviating line,
Whose source thou art, and thou the law divine.
The Sun shall be subdued, his system fade,
Ere I forsake the path thy fiat made;
Yet grant one soft regretful tear to flow,
Prompted by pity for a Lover's woe,
O grant without revenge, one bursting sigh,
Ere from his desolating grief I fly—
'Tis past,—Farewell! Another claims my heart;
Then wing thy sinking steps, for here we part,
We part! and listen, for the word is mine,
Anna Matilda never can be thine!"[8]

Unfortunate kennings:
Would any feather'd maiden of the wood,
Or scaly female of the peopled flood,
When lust and hunger call'd, its force resist?
In abstinence or chastity persist?[9]

Incompatible metaphors:
Life scums the cream of Beauty with Time's spoon[10]

Depleted banalities:
                                        Still I toil.
How long and steep and cheerless the ascent!
It needs the evidence of close deduction
To know that I shall ever reach the height![11]

And thundering bores:
Thus, if a Government agrees to give,
Whenever Public Companies are formed,
To each a dividend—say, six percent
Per annum ... [12]

Before exploring the swamplands for more, be warned: ye average volume of bad poetry has a higher body count than a teen slasher flick, deployed to even less emotional effect. Yes, there are volumes — poeple collect this stuff. The above are all culled[13] from The Stuffed Owl ed. by Wyndham Lewis and Lee, which is one of the essential collections for aspiring poets — as object lessons, if nothing else. I'll compile a bibliography in a later post.

But as for what makes bad poetry so attractive -- that, I'm on less clear ground. I hope to explore the topic later this week.

Does anyone else have a taste for bad poetry? What are your favorites?


Note and Citations:
1. By me.
2. James Grainger, The Sugar Cane.
3. Robert Peter, On Time, Death, and Eternity.
4. Julia Moore, Lord Byron's Life. The quotes are original; ditto the grammar.
5. Thomas Chivers, The Poet's Vocation.
6. "Owen Meredith" a.k.a. Robert Bulwer-Lytton, Going Back Again. This is not the Bulwer-Lytton you're thinking of but rather his son.
7. Julia Moore, The Author's Early Life. She gets double-duty in this sampling because she comes up a lot in bad verse lists.
8. Robert Merry writing as Della Crusca, The Interview. The supposed speaker was in her mid-forties, and had not yet met the poet in person.
9. John, Lord Hervy, Epistle to Mr. Fox, from Hampton Court. The authorship is almost as boggling as the lines themselves — a young poet telling his beloved "the birds and fishes do it, so why can't you?" can be forgiven, where by "forgive" I mean "publicly and thoroughly mocked," but this is a Lord Privy Seal writing to his middle-aged friend.
10. Margaret Cavendish, A Posset for Nature's Breakfast.
11. Joseph Cottle, The Malvern Hills.
12. George Everleigh, Science Revealed — which, as as you can tell from this extract, is a work of natural theology.
13. Much like predators cull the weak from the herd.
poetree_admin: Paper sculpture of bulbuous tree made from strips of book pages (Default)
[personal profile] poetree_admin
For our next multi-Hosted week we will use Dana Gioia's 1992 essay Can Poetry Matter? as a touchstone for exploring big questions about what significance poetry currently has today and what it can offer in a world of rapid social and technological change. Twenty years later, do Gioia's observations hold true for poetry in the United States? What about other countries, other traditions?

Ideally we would like to have one post a day from Monday, Feb. 25th through Saturday, Mar. 2nd. Though this round's theme lends itself to essays, Hosts are also welcome to post in other (or multiple) formats such as original poetry or dialogues. As a general courtesy, please remember to include transcripts for any audio or video, and English translations for spoken or written quotations in other languages.

If you would like to participate, please comment on this post with your preferred day to Host and roughly what you think you'll focus on. Assignment of days will be on a first come, first served basis; this post will be edited as slots fill up to show which days are still available. Participation is not limited to current comm members or even Dreamwidth members - please contact the admins at [at] gmail if you will need someone to post on your behalf. More than one person can collaborate on a particular post if some wish to sign up as a group.

Available days behind the cut )
jjhunter: closeup of library dragon balancing book on its head (library dragon 2)
[personal profile] jjhunter
This week returning Poetry Hosts [personal profile] lizcommotion and myself ([personal profile] jjhunter) will be co-Hosting a week on poetry we wrote together during our recent 'LizJJ Jam'. Each poem is the fruit of a distinct email chain where the first email establishes format (if any), opening line(s), and loose 'standards' for swapping our digital pen back and forth as the poem evolves. We hope you enjoy reading them as much as we enjoyed writing them!

ragdoll poetry

stitched from each poet's muse, handsewn smile recites ragdoll poetry
this arm drawn from a faded childhood dress worn
sepia with adventure, that one from summer skin
burnished smooth with coaxing snails out their front door holes
memories ragged around the edges, smudged by fingers
mucky from ink pens and filching chocolate chip cookies
the way you say hello in my voice, my diction echoed in yours
wordshop duality into one poem, one ragged edge joined to ragged heart

Poll #12598 Kudos?
Open to: Registered Users, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 6

I would like to leave kudos on this post

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poetree: Paper sculpture of bulbuous tree made from strips of book pages (Default)

February 2017



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