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

criticism of yeats can be brooked, if it be specific and have a thrust to it. lots of overworked, mawkish and insincere hackwork over a long and varied career.

but look, the man wrote some of the greatest lyrical or rhythmic constructions in the language.

Now as at all times I can see in the mind's eye,
In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones
Appear and disappear in the blue depths of the sky
With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones,
And all their helms of silver hovering side by side,
And all their eyes still fixed, hoping to find once more,
Being by Calvary's turbulence unsatisfied,
The uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor.



those last three lines should make anyone's jaw drop, and i am talking technically now, not a matter of what he meant or should he have said it.

that is simply writing to a degree that a handful of humans have the capacity for

and them compare to the whimsical beauty of his ode to a cat-


THE CAT went here and there
And the moon spun round like a top,
And the nearest kin of the moon
The creeping cat looked up.
Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,
For wander and wail as he would
The pure cold light in the sky
Troubled his animal blood.
Minnaloushe runs in the grass,
Lifting his delicate feet.
Do you dance, Minnaloushe, do you dance?
When two close kindred meet
What better than call a dance?
Maybe the moon may learn,
Tired of that courtly fashion,
A new dance turn.
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
From moonlit place to place,
The sacred moon overhead
Has taken a new phase.
Does Minnaloushe know that his pupils
Will pass from change to change,
And that from round to crescent,
From crescent to round they range?
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
Alone, important and wise,
And lifts to the changing moon
His changing eyes.



i pity anyone who lets their experience in secondary school english prevent them from appreciating work like this.

last entry: the spoken word.

gerard manley hopkins, on the page, does nothing for anyone, really

now, put a working class miner with the voice of a god and the soul of a warrior poet on the case, and the result us simply remarkable:

https://youtu.be/WhQwFf6Qb9U


poetry- its ****in massive stuff lads. do yourself a favour.

Greyfox wrote: »

People enjoy his poetry but if someone says they think Yeates poems are crap they are also entitled to that opinion.

bit of a strawman. who said otherwise?

the thread premise is just a tantrum against something totally........ optional?