Poetry is a load of horse **** waste of time and most people intrinsically know it.

I'm not a mad poetry fan, but it can be many things, rap and hip hop: urban streetwise poetry, lots of traditional songs were poems with a melody added. Rock music: A great example being The Sleaford Mods. Just my two cents as I wouldn't know too much about poetry itself some of my siblings would like it more.

paleoperson wrote: »

The whole point of language is to communicate, to be clear, and sometimes to provoke feeling. Meanwhile poetry is about making vague statements that are supposed to be "symbols" of something else.

Poetry is all pretentious nonsense. It's elitism in its purest form. People feel like they "get it", they're part of an elite group of people.

If a single person here has respect for or actually reads or even buys poetry - what do you get out of it? How does it improve your life?

Everyone else, what do you think of poetry.

There are lots of things in life than can be perceived as a waste of time. Watching sport, watching music, this, etc etc.
Each to their own.once no harm comes of it.

paleoperson wrote: »

The whole point of language is to communicate, to be clear, and sometimes to provoke feeling. Meanwhile poetry is about making vague statements that are supposed to be "symbols" of something else.

Poetry is all pretentious nonsense. It's elitism in its purest form. People feel like they "get it", they're part of an elite group of people.

If a single person here has respect for or actually reads or even buys poetry - what do you get out of it? How does it improve your life?

Everyone else, what do you think of poetry.

I love poetry, i love song lyrics, i just love words in general.

You'd never guess it from my monosyllabic, rambling, rants on here...but i do:D

That being said i'm not a fan of blank verse, that to me is just prose, mostly pretentious, badly written prose, not poetry. The skill in poetry, or song writing - is to say what you want in a flowing, melodic way.

Expand your horizons OP.



Now for your homework, go read some Maya Angelou, Edgar Allen Poe, Byron..... and Bruce Springsteen:D

spook_cook wrote: »

Agreed. I remember we did Simon and Garfunkel's... well some song of theirs in school English exams.

But even so, I don't really do music. Cannot tell you last gig I went to or album or whatever I bought.

If I recall correctly it was for junior cert, where you were presented with 2 poems, "I am a rock" by Paul Simon and "No man is an Island" by John Donne.

Blondini wrote: »

Rage, rage against threads that are shight ....

I was at a funeral and the dead mans son read Do not go gentle into that good night as a eulogy. Given the man in question it sort of hit the spot.

Yis now have to suffer my own favorites:

Bingen on the Rhine

A soldier of the legion lay dying in Algiers,
There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears;
But a comrade stood beside him, while his life-blood ebbed away,
And bent, with pitying glances, to hear what he might say.
The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand,
And he said, "I never more shall see my own, my native land:
Take a message and a token to some distant friends of mine;
For I was born at Bingen—at Bingen on the Rhine.

"Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd around,
To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground
That we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was done,
Full many a corpse lay ghastly pale beneath the setting sun:
And 'mid the dead and dying were some grown old in wars—
The death-wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many scars;
And some were young, and suddenly beheld life's morn decline—
And one had come from Bingen—fair Bingen on the Rhine.

"Tell my mother that her other son shall comfort her old age;
For I was still a truant bird, that thought his home a cage.
For my father was a soldier, and even as a child
My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild;
And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard,
I let them take whate'er they would—but kept my father's sword;
And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to shine,
On the cottage wall at Bingen—calm Bingen on the Rhine.

"Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head,
When the troops come marching home again, with glad and gallant tread,
But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye,
For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die;
And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name,
To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame,
And to hang the old sword in its place (my father's sword and mine),
For the honour of old Bingen—dear Bingen on the Rhine.

"There's another—not a sister; in the happy days gone by,
You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye;
Too innocent for coquetry—too fond for idle scorning—
O, friend! I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning!
Tell her the last night of my life (for ere the moon be risen,
My body will be out of pain, my soul be out of prison)—
I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine
On the vine-clad hills of Bingen—sweet Bingen on the Rhine.

"I saw the blue Rhine sweep along—I heard, or seemed to hear,
The German songs we used to sing in chorus sweet and clear;
And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill,
The echoing chorus sounded through the evening calm and still;
And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed with friendly talk,
Down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remembered walk!
And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine—
But we meet no more at Bingen—loved Bingen on the Rhine."

His trembling voice grew faint and hoarse; his grasp was childish weak;
His eyes put on a dying look; and he sighed and ceased to speak;
His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled;
The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land—was dead!
And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down
On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corpses strown;
Yes, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine,
As it shown on distant Bingen—fair Bingen on the Rhine.

Caroline Norton