Who are the great poets of our time, and what are their names?
Yeats of the baleful influence, Auden of the baleful influence, Eliot
of the baleful influence
(Is Eliot a great poet? no one knows), Hardy, Stevens, Williams (is
Hardy of our time?),
Hopkins (is Hopkins of our time?), Rilke (is Rilke of our time?),
Lorca (is Lorca of our time?), who is still of our time?
Mallarmé, Valery, Apollinaire, Eluard, Reverdy, French poets are
still of our time,
Pasternak and Mayakovsky, is Jouve of our time?...
Summer in the trees! "It is time to strangle several bad poets."
And the embers never fadeis poetry, too. A 'different' kind of poetry from *poetry*, but poetry nevertheless. Unlike the preceding sentence.
In your city by the lake
The place where you were born
Believe
In the resolute urgency of now
And if you believe there's not a chance
We'll crucify the insincere tonight
I guess I'm bothered by the fact that so many people think of Collins when they think of poetry, that he's considered the quintessential poet of the day. It's not that I hate his writing, it's that I hate the overestimation of it, which isn't his fault.I can definitely see that; I can't say that I've read a LOT of poetry, but people like Ted Hughes, Kooser, and Wendel barry are the ones I gravitate towards when I do. I've watched and read a few interviews with Collins, and he strikes me as relatively unassuming, a genuine lover of words, and someone who wants to see a love of poetry spread to wider audiences.
I ask them to take a poemIt's not one of his best, or most complex, by any means. But it's always made me chuckle. And reminded me that ultimately, poetry is meant to be experienced rather than analyzed.
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide
or press an ear against its hive.
I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,
or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.
I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.
But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.
They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.
This [the fact that she worked hard on her poems] is true of her rhyming as well. One cannot doubt her ability to make rhymes as correct... as those of Christina Rossetti or Alfred Tennyson or any other poet of her time. She chose to let her aural imagination range freely, and one result is that her off-rhymes, which vary from close to distant, together with her reliance on well-known rhyming patterns (hymns, ballads, etc.), force the reader to hear rhymes where none exist. The first three stanzas of the poem numbered 410 [in the Johnson edition] are a good example, though you can find others even more extreme:Sure, you can enjoy the poem without that insight, but doesn't it add to your experience to know it? And note that it's not some irrelevant technical trick thrown in to show off: the falling away from full rhyme parallels the "unrolling" of the experience of horror and subtly emphasizes it.The first Day's Night had come —The progression from "thing/sing" through "blown/Morn" to "pairs/eyes," from full rhyme to off-rhyme to no rhyme, is remarkable in its manipulation of the auditor's rhyming sense, making one "hear" what isn't there in the third stanza...
And grateful that a thing
So terrible — had been endured —
I told my Soul to sing —
She said her Strings were snapt —
Her Bow — to Atoms blown —
And so to mend her — gave me work
Until another Morn —
And then — a Day as huge
As Yesterdays in pairs,
Unrolled its horror in my face —
Until it blocked my eyes —
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posted by Dr. Wu at 8:35 PM on January 12, 2006