01-25-2016, 08:15 AM
Thanks milo, that's a nice little book and it's free.
Brownlie: If it is not formal verse, it is free verse, that however does not make it good or even adequate free verse. I will tell you what free verse is not. It is not abandoning punctuation, grammar, or correct spelling. It is not a bunch of dependent clauses stuck together trailing down the page. I always has some kind of underlying rhythmical component, just as music has a beat. Of course as no one these days believes there are standards by which poetry can be judged, and thus all poetry is equal, none of that really matters.
Here is a truism: Just as in art, football, music and so on, if you lack the talent you will never be a poet, no matter how many books you read that instruct you how to be one. The best that can be taught is skill, the inner spark is either there or it is not. It is no great loss if one is not a poet, in fact one is much better off if one's talents lie in the area of plumbing. You will make a much better living (that is you will make one) and probably make a greater contribution to your immediate community. There are very few poets who come along that are gifted enough to effect the larger consciousness. Compared to those rare individuals, the rest of us write slop. Some slop to be savored, some of it slop that should be promptly poured out, but in the end, slop and it will be forgotten without leaving the slightest ripple on the greater course of things. If one wishes to impact the world, I suggest smiling more. A true poet writes, simply and solely because he has no other choice. Basically for the same reason we fuck, we are driven to it. All the rest is pocket change.
Musings on Muses (Leanne hates Muses)
My muses are enough for me,
Poetic sexuality,
They from me rarely flee,
Nor never are unfaithful.
So let me lie in their repose,
Absorbing inspiration’s blows,
For I will follow where they go,
In this I will be faithful.
For no evil do these faeries bring,
Only wild imaginings,
Through that song they softly sing,
Forever are they faithful.
Yet, if their song one day falls quiet,
And I am thus robbed of my sight,
It is my pride that brings the blight,
For they are ever faithful.
It is a gift, but seems a curse,
When one is forced to write in verse,
Words compressed, thus seeming terse,
Desire to be unfaithful.
Still to these nymphs I am wed,
Yet, care not they, for mortal’s dread,
Neither need they meat nor bread,
Only spirits remain faithful.
Regardless of the circumstance,
Continue they with their dance,
Although I may look askance,
To this they’re always faithful.
Not for money or for fame,
Will these faeries wild be tamed,
While I slip on down life’s drain,
Bound to death I still am faithful.
There in the eve’ning hours gloom,
Read the stone above my tomb,
To poverty he was doomed,
For always stayed he faithful.
dale
Brownlie: If it is not formal verse, it is free verse, that however does not make it good or even adequate free verse. I will tell you what free verse is not. It is not abandoning punctuation, grammar, or correct spelling. It is not a bunch of dependent clauses stuck together trailing down the page. I always has some kind of underlying rhythmical component, just as music has a beat. Of course as no one these days believes there are standards by which poetry can be judged, and thus all poetry is equal, none of that really matters.
Here is a truism: Just as in art, football, music and so on, if you lack the talent you will never be a poet, no matter how many books you read that instruct you how to be one. The best that can be taught is skill, the inner spark is either there or it is not. It is no great loss if one is not a poet, in fact one is much better off if one's talents lie in the area of plumbing. You will make a much better living (that is you will make one) and probably make a greater contribution to your immediate community. There are very few poets who come along that are gifted enough to effect the larger consciousness. Compared to those rare individuals, the rest of us write slop. Some slop to be savored, some of it slop that should be promptly poured out, but in the end, slop and it will be forgotten without leaving the slightest ripple on the greater course of things. If one wishes to impact the world, I suggest smiling more. A true poet writes, simply and solely because he has no other choice. Basically for the same reason we fuck, we are driven to it. All the rest is pocket change.
Musings on Muses (Leanne hates Muses)
My muses are enough for me,
Poetic sexuality,
They from me rarely flee,
Nor never are unfaithful.
So let me lie in their repose,
Absorbing inspiration’s blows,
For I will follow where they go,
In this I will be faithful.
For no evil do these faeries bring,
Only wild imaginings,
Through that song they softly sing,
Forever are they faithful.
Yet, if their song one day falls quiet,
And I am thus robbed of my sight,
It is my pride that brings the blight,
For they are ever faithful.
It is a gift, but seems a curse,
When one is forced to write in verse,
Words compressed, thus seeming terse,
Desire to be unfaithful.
Still to these nymphs I am wed,
Yet, care not they, for mortal’s dread,
Neither need they meat nor bread,
Only spirits remain faithful.
Regardless of the circumstance,
Continue they with their dance,
Although I may look askance,
To this they’re always faithful.
Not for money or for fame,
Will these faeries wild be tamed,
While I slip on down life’s drain,
Bound to death I still am faithful.
There in the eve’ning hours gloom,
Read the stone above my tomb,
To poverty he was doomed,
For always stayed he faithful.
dale
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.