He's inoffensive and unremarkable despite being by all acounts 'good' ... he's representative of most poets: legions of forgettable escorting the odd gem.
>implying this board talks about poetry
We only get Pound threads because he's le based fascist.
Frost isn't edgy, nor difficult enough to have pseud cred.
I like his early stuff, but once he started becoming a self conscious public man of letters he gets a bit dull
>I like his early stuff, but once he started becoming a self conscious public man of letters he gets a bit dull
Irony is corrosive to the spirit of poetic creation, I'd agree on the early stuff.
https://i.imgur.com/fCbF1og.png
I'll be honest with y'all, I just don't understand the importance of poetry. Ever since I encountered this form of "literature" in early schooling I have always found it incredibly bizarre. It's akin to the dissonance one feels while watching a musical and a character jumps into a ditty while just a moment ago they were speaking plainly, like the transition from a human into a caricature.
I assumed my constant exposure to this medium throughout schooling will soothe this alienation but it never did.
What even is a fricking poem? What is the point of it? Why is it written the way it is?
I really don't mean to be dismissive, trying not to be derisive of things I don't understand is a trait I am trying to mend within myself, but I just fricking dislike poetry so much. All the frequent Rupi Kaur/Amanda Gorman threads obviously don't help.
>What even is a fricking poem? What is the point of it? Why is it written the way it is?
Read Don Paterson's THE POEM, which is very accessible while technical. Otherwise-- it's about hyper-condense prosody and the maximum possible concatenation of sound (music, lyric) and meaning (literal, metaphorical) for novel conceptual use of words and phrases with the character of single words as holistic entities unto themselves in the context of a poem or particular constellation in the rest of the lines and stanzas. Faulker on novelists being failed poets is mostly correct-- the poem demands perfection and less discursive, more spontaneous and non-linear conception & execution. If the novel is painting, the poem is both monumental architecture and sculpture in words.
>implying this board talks about poetry
We only get Pound threads because he's le based fascist.
Frost isn't edgy, nor difficult enough to have pseud cred.
I like his early stuff, but once he started becoming a self conscious public man of letters he gets a bit dull
He's just too simple, the epitome in my imagination of purposeless, nondescript contemporary poetry, despite the fact that he's older than Auden. Poetry devoid of any hope of forming a tradition, just plain poetry for plain society.
I'm aware this is probably a very biased view but I can't help it.
He's good. Great when encountered at the right time in life. But generally forgettable. I crack a collection of his open every once in a while but there are so many better poets to discuss. Is there something about his poetry yo think is particularly notable? Which is your favorite of his so far?
I'll be honest with y'all, I just don't understand the importance of poetry. Ever since I encountered this form of "literature" in early schooling I have always found it incredibly bizarre. It's akin to the dissonance one feels while watching a musical and a character jumps into a ditty while just a moment ago they were speaking plainly, like the transition from a human into a caricature.
I assumed my constant exposure to this medium throughout schooling will soothe this alienation but it never did.
What even is a fricking poem? What is the point of it? Why is it written the way it is?
I really don't mean to be dismissive, trying not to be derisive of things I don't understand is a trait I am trying to mend within myself, but I just fricking dislike poetry so much. All the frequent Rupi Kaur/Amanda Gorman threads obviously don't help.
It's just musical language, that's the only sensible way to describe its particular function and appeal. It is a "caricature" in a way, it's an aesthetically formalized alternative to natural speech with the intent of emphasizing emotion, if that feels too jarring to you then you don't have to like it.
I think it's mostly because rhyminess went out of fashion for poetry, so his style feels a bit outdated. It also comes from a different period (and region) in American history that doesn't resonate that much anymore with the contemporary audience.
Are you able to enjoy music? Because much of the same principle is at work
>t. frazzled reactionary reacts to previous poster
Do you even possess sentience? If you find his work so sincere, NOW IS THE TIME TO TALK ABOUT IT, YOU WASTE OF LIFE! I hate you buttholes with a great and growing passion.
About to sit down with my half-pint of Guinness
I was magnetized by a remote phosphorescence
and drawn, like a moth, to the darkened back room
where a pool-table hummed to itself in the corner.
With ten minutes to kill and the whole place deserted
I took myself on for the hell of it. Slotting
a coin in the tongue, I looked round for a cue –
while I stood with my back turned, the balls were deposited
with an abrupt intestinal rumble; a striplight
batted awake in its dusty green cowl.
When I set down the cue-ball inside the parched D
it clacked on the slate; the nap was so threadbare
I could screw back the globe, given somewhere to stand.
As physics itself becomes something negotiable
a rash of small miracles covers the shortfall.
I went on to make an immaculate clearance.
A low punch with a wee dab of side, and the black
did the vanishing trick while the white stopped
before gently rolling back as if nothing had happened,
shouldering its way through the unpotted colours.
The boat chugged up to the little stone jetty
without breaking the skin of the water, stretching,
as black as my stout, from somewhere unspeakable
to here, where the foaming lip mussitates endlessly,
trying, with a nutter’s persistence, to read
and re-read the shoreline. I got aboard early,
remembering the ferry would leave on the hour
even for only my losing opponent;
but I left him there, stuck in his tent of light, sullenly
knocking the balls in, for practice, for next time.
>Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
>I saw them hanging where I stood
>Two old blacks from two old trees
>It made my dick grow to my knees
Seriously, though. No one mentions him
He's inoffensive and unremarkable despite being by all acounts 'good' ... he's representative of most poets: legions of forgettable escorting the odd gem.
>I like his early stuff, but once he started becoming a self conscious public man of letters he gets a bit dull
Irony is corrosive to the spirit of poetic creation, I'd agree on the early stuff.
>What even is a fricking poem? What is the point of it? Why is it written the way it is?
Read Don Paterson's THE POEM, which is very accessible while technical. Otherwise-- it's about hyper-condense prosody and the maximum possible concatenation of sound (music, lyric) and meaning (literal, metaphorical) for novel conceptual use of words and phrases with the character of single words as holistic entities unto themselves in the context of a poem or particular constellation in the rest of the lines and stanzas. Faulker on novelists being failed poets is mostly correct-- the poem demands perfection and less discursive, more spontaneous and non-linear conception & execution. If the novel is painting, the poem is both monumental architecture and sculpture in words.
Holy, this is actually an insanely good description of what poetry distinctly does.
>implying this board talks about poetry
We only get Pound threads because he's le based fascist.
Frost isn't edgy, nor difficult enough to have pseud cred.
I like his early stuff, but once he started becoming a self conscious public man of letters he gets a bit dull
Fair enough
He's just too simple, the epitome in my imagination of purposeless, nondescript contemporary poetry, despite the fact that he's older than Auden. Poetry devoid of any hope of forming a tradition, just plain poetry for plain society.
I'm aware this is probably a very biased view but I can't help it.
>t. filtered beyond belief
We were made to read Fire and Ice in school. It remains some of the most trite garbage I have read to date.
He's good. Great when encountered at the right time in life. But generally forgettable. I crack a collection of his open every once in a while but there are so many better poets to discuss. Is there something about his poetry yo think is particularly notable? Which is your favorite of his so far?
I'll be honest with y'all, I just don't understand the importance of poetry. Ever since I encountered this form of "literature" in early schooling I have always found it incredibly bizarre. It's akin to the dissonance one feels while watching a musical and a character jumps into a ditty while just a moment ago they were speaking plainly, like the transition from a human into a caricature.
I assumed my constant exposure to this medium throughout schooling will soothe this alienation but it never did.
What even is a fricking poem? What is the point of it? Why is it written the way it is?
I really don't mean to be dismissive, trying not to be derisive of things I don't understand is a trait I am trying to mend within myself, but I just fricking dislike poetry so much. All the frequent Rupi Kaur/Amanda Gorman threads obviously don't help.
It's just musical language, that's the only sensible way to describe its particular function and appeal. It is a "caricature" in a way, it's an aesthetically formalized alternative to natural speech with the intent of emphasizing emotion, if that feels too jarring to you then you don't have to like it.
I think it's mostly because rhyminess went out of fashion for poetry, so his style feels a bit outdated. It also comes from a different period (and region) in American history that doesn't resonate that much anymore with the contemporary audience.
Are you able to enjoy music? Because much of the same principle is at work
>wearing a mask of blackness when you expect to get roasted
Unimaginable cowardice.
>writes poem about taking the road less traveled
>writes commercial poetry for airports instead of doing anything unique
Pottery
I've talked about him here before, but he's a subvert, just like almost every famous person of the last 200 years.
He's too sincere for the average IQfytard christlarper.
>t. frazzled reactionary reacts to previous poster
Do you even possess sentience? If you find his work so sincere, NOW IS THE TIME TO TALK ABOUT IT, YOU WASTE OF LIFE! I hate you buttholes with a great and growing passion.
meds
Don Paterson mentioned.
About to sit down with my half-pint of Guinness
I was magnetized by a remote phosphorescence
and drawn, like a moth, to the darkened back room
where a pool-table hummed to itself in the corner.
With ten minutes to kill and the whole place deserted
I took myself on for the hell of it. Slotting
a coin in the tongue, I looked round for a cue –
while I stood with my back turned, the balls were deposited
with an abrupt intestinal rumble; a striplight
batted awake in its dusty green cowl.
When I set down the cue-ball inside the parched D
it clacked on the slate; the nap was so threadbare
I could screw back the globe, given somewhere to stand.
As physics itself becomes something negotiable
a rash of small miracles covers the shortfall.
I went on to make an immaculate clearance.
A low punch with a wee dab of side, and the black
did the vanishing trick while the white stopped
before gently rolling back as if nothing had happened,
shouldering its way through the unpotted colours.
The boat chugged up to the little stone jetty
without breaking the skin of the water, stretching,
as black as my stout, from somewhere unspeakable
to here, where the foaming lip mussitates endlessly,
trying, with a nutter’s persistence, to read
and re-read the shoreline. I got aboard early,
remembering the ferry would leave on the hour
even for only my losing opponent;
but I left him there, stuck in his tent of light, sullenly
knocking the balls in, for practice, for next time.