I'm really enjoying catching up on my modern poetry class. I haven't done any poetry in a very long time, and I'm really getting a lot out of the class. I want to read a lot more poetry. So
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Gwendolyn Brooks Nikki Giovanni Rita Dove Gary Snyder Gary Soto Denise Levertov
Those were some of my favorite poets whom I didn't discover until grad school.
You should also look for anthologies of contemporary verse. I forget the exact name, but there's something that comes out every year with a selection of poetry from the year before. It's a good way to keep current.
It's saddening that they don't teach more contemporary poets in undergraduate courses, but I suppose there's simply too much history to get through.
Like I said, anthologies are a great start to identify people whose work you might want to delve into. You can also find collections that gather together the best poets of the 1990s or 2000s. And I'd highly recommend "Every Shut Eye Ain't Asleep," an anthology of African-American poetry.
My favourite poets are Lucy Maud Montgomery and Bub Bridger. I don't read much poetry, but I just love theirs :)
My favourite poems by them are "Patience" and "Blatant Resistance" - I'll include them in separate comments.
Other than those, I love Lillian Moore's The Bridge - there's just such scope for imagination in it! The Bridge by Lillian MooreA bridge by day
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Patience - Lucy Maud MontgomerykiwiriaSeptember 26 2012, 07:26:44 UTC
As my letter must be brief I'll at once state my belief And this it is that, since the world began Since Adam first did say 'Twas Eve led me astray A woman hath more patience than a man.
If a man's obliged to wait For someone who's rather late No mortal ever got in such a stew And if something can't be found That he's sure should be around The listening air sometimes grows fairly blue.
Just watch a man who tries To soothe a baby's cries Or put a stovepipe up in weather cold Into what a state he'll get How he'll fuss and fume and fret And stamp and bluster 'round and storm and scold.
Some point to Job with pride As an argument for their side Why, it was so rare a patient man to see That when one was really found His discoveres were bound To preserve for him a place in history.
And while I admit it's true That man has some patience too And that woman isn't always sweetly calm Still I think all must agree On this general fact - that she For general, all-round patience bears the palm.
Blatant Resistance - Bub BridgerkiwiriaSeptember 26 2012, 07:27:27 UTC
I have a new scarlet coat and I look like a fire engine And I don't give a damn One should grow old gracefully Someone said - I don't know who But I've heard it all my life and So have you but to hell with that I refuse to grow old any way But reluctantly and bold as brass
And when arthritis bites in all My bones and sleep sulks outside My bedroom window in the dark I just toss and turn and scratch And swear the hours away I'm not Growing older - it's the stupid Betrayal of bones and flesh That makes me feel this way but Look at me now with springs in My heels and wind in my hair Any moment I'll start whistling And might even dance you a jig And stop all the traffic along the Quay wearing my new scarlet coat And looking like a fire engine.
Thanks so much for sharing so many good ones! My current class is taking the time to take them apart basically word by word, so I'm going to be trying to do that with everyone's suggestions here in the next few days.
Stop all the ClockskiwiriaOctober 3 2012, 16:57:06 UTC
As promised... some more poems :) I think I'll do one per comment for simplicity's sake.
I loved this even before I heard it used in "Four Weddings..."
Stop all the Clocks by W.H. Auden
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good.
I'm a little in love with you Nothing To cause you embarrassment Or concern Just a warm Skip of the heart When I see you from My bus At your stop
I catch your eye And give you a wave And I note That you are more beautiful Now than you ever were And I am a keen observer of beauty Whether it's sunsets Or music Or the Mona Lisa Or birds flying Or green growing things Or you
So, How does it feel, My young Adonis, to be held in such regard By an elderly lady On the 24 Express? Well, Don't knock it, Because it really is A rare compliment And you Only have to respond With your wide smile Which is a small price To pay For allowing me my glimpse Of what it used to be All those years ago When I was 17 And beautiful young men Smiled By the dozen.
Sundeath / GreentearskiwiriaOctober 3 2012, 16:57:57 UTC
Sundeath / Greentears by Roger McGrove
When you said you loved me the sun leapt out from behind St. Georges Hall and ran towards town; Kissing young girls' faces Exposing fat men's braces Freeing birds an chasing flies Pulling hats down over eyes Making bobbies get undressed Barow ladies look their best Wayside winds sit and dream Hot dog men to sell ice cream.
But when you said goodbye I heard that the sun had been run over somewhere in Castle Street by a bus load of lovers whom you have yet to meet.
Comments 16
Gwendolyn Brooks
Nikki Giovanni
Rita Dove
Gary Snyder
Gary Soto
Denise Levertov
Those were some of my favorite poets whom I didn't discover until grad school.
You should also look for anthologies of contemporary verse. I forget the exact name, but there's something that comes out every year with a selection of poetry from the year before. It's a good way to keep current.
Reply
Reply
Like I said, anthologies are a great start to identify people whose work you might want to delve into. You can also find collections that gather together the best poets of the 1990s or 2000s. And I'd highly recommend "Every Shut Eye Ain't Asleep," an anthology of African-American poetry.
Reply
Reply
My favourite poems by them are "Patience" and "Blatant Resistance" - I'll include them in separate comments.
Other than those, I love Lillian Moore's The Bridge - there's just such scope for imagination in it!
The Bridge
by Lillian MooreA bridge by day ( ... )
Reply
I'll at once state my belief
And this it is that, since the world began
Since Adam first did say
'Twas Eve led me astray
A woman hath more patience than a man.
If a man's obliged to wait
For someone who's rather late
No mortal ever got in such a stew
And if something can't be found
That he's sure should be around
The listening air sometimes grows fairly blue.
Just watch a man who tries
To soothe a baby's cries
Or put a stovepipe up in weather cold
Into what a state he'll get
How he'll fuss and fume and fret
And stamp and bluster 'round and storm and scold.
Some point to Job with pride
As an argument for their side
Why, it was so rare a patient man to see
That when one was really found
His discoveres were bound
To preserve for him a place in history.
And while I admit it's true
That man has some patience too
And that woman isn't always sweetly calm
Still I think all must agree
On this general fact - that she
For general, all-round patience bears the palm.
Reply
I look like a fire engine
And I don't give a damn
One should grow old gracefully
Someone said - I don't know who
But I've heard it all my life and
So have you but to hell with that
I refuse to grow old any way
But reluctantly and bold as brass
And when arthritis bites in all
My bones and sleep sulks outside
My bedroom window in the dark
I just toss and turn and scratch
And swear the hours away I'm not
Growing older - it's the stupid
Betrayal of bones and flesh
That makes me feel this way but
Look at me now with springs in
My heels and wind in my hair
Any moment I'll start whistling
And might even dance you a jig
And stop all the traffic along the
Quay wearing my new scarlet coat
And looking like a fire engine.
Reply
Reply
I loved this even before I heard it used in "Four Weddings..."
Stop all the Clocks
by W.H. Auden
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Reply
by Bub Bridger
I'm a little in love with you
Nothing
To cause you embarrassment
Or concern
Just a warm
Skip of the heart
When I see you from
My bus
At your stop
I catch your eye
And give you a wave
And I note
That you are more beautiful
Now than you ever were
And I am a keen
observer of beauty
Whether it's sunsets
Or music
Or the Mona Lisa
Or birds flying
Or green growing things
Or you
So,
How does it feel,
My young Adonis, to be
held in such regard
By an elderly lady
On the 24 Express?
Well,
Don't knock it,
Because it really is
A rare compliment
And you
Only have to respond
With your wide smile
Which is a small price
To pay
For allowing me my glimpse
Of what it used to be
All those years ago
When I was 17
And beautiful young men
Smiled
By the dozen.
Reply
by Roger McGrove
When you said you loved me
the sun
leapt out from behind St. Georges Hall
and ran towards town;
Kissing young girls' faces
Exposing fat men's braces
Freeing birds an chasing flies
Pulling hats down over eyes
Making bobbies get undressed
Barow ladies look their best
Wayside winds sit and dream
Hot dog men to sell ice cream.
But when you said goodbye
I heard that the sun
had been run over
somewhere in Castle Street
by a bus load of lovers
whom you have yet to meet.
Reply
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