Recommend me some poetry!

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  • Angel_Treats 29 Apr 2009 22:11:51 11,070 posts
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    Weird question of the evening!

    I'm practicing my calligraphy, and specifically I want to learn copperplate, and there's only so many Lorem Ipsums I can write out. I need something interesting. I've always claimed to dislike poetry but surely there must be some of it I'd like. Two poets I don't hate are Seamus Heaney and Pablo Neruda. Camões reminds me too much of uni and makes me want to poke my eyes out. Something I can find on the internet or from the library would be nice.

    Recommendations? I can cope with English, Spanish or Portuguese.
  • MetalDog 29 Apr 2009 22:13:53 24,076 posts
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    The Raven?
  • Metalfish 29 Apr 2009 22:14:01 9,191 posts
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    Edgar Alan Poe!

    EDIT: ARGH GET OUT OF MY BRAIN METALDOG
  • Deleted user 29 April 2009 22:15:30
    Dog > Fish
  • Load_2.0 29 Apr 2009 22:16:18 31,894 posts
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    There was a young man from Saint Paul
    Who went to a masquerade ball.
    Just for a stunt
    He went dressed as a cunt,
    And was fucked by a dog in the hall.
  • DavetheDave 29 Apr 2009 22:19:32 1,391 posts
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    I like:

    Serenity Prayer

    Kipling's If

    Footprints

    but these might be a bit obvious and you may have already thought of them.
  • MetalDog 29 Apr 2009 22:19:56 24,076 posts
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    *grins*
    Bit of Browning?
  • repairmanjack 29 Apr 2009 22:29:27 6,133 posts
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    Try some Tony Harrison, for something utterly unique and affecting. May I recommend "Marked with D".
  • Angel_Treats 29 Apr 2009 22:31:36 11,070 posts
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    DavetheDave wrote:
    I like:

    Serenity Prayer

    Kipling's If

    Footprints

    but these might be a bit obvious and you may have already thought of them.

    Should have said nothing religious ;-)

    Keep 'em coming. Poe might be good.

    Load $'s effort is most definitely getting the calligraphy treatment.
  • DavetheDave 29 Apr 2009 22:36:56 1,391 posts
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    How about Fight Club's haiku?
  • DavetheDave 29 Apr 2009 22:38:32 1,391 posts
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    Or Blake's The Tiger?
  • otto Moderator 29 Apr 2009 22:40:03 49,322 posts
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    Nothing religious? I'm not religious, at all, but you're depriving yourself of some great stuff there! :)

    Some of my favourites:

    Pied Beauty by Gerard Manley Hopkins
    Cynddylan on a Tractor by RS Thomas
    Two in the Campagna by Robert Browning
    The Scholars by WB Yeats
    The Sun Rising by John Donne
    Ode to Autumn by Keats
  • elstoof 29 Apr 2009 22:42:02 25,877 posts
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    Pam Ayres.

    A west country accent adds much to her works.
  • Angel_Treats 29 Apr 2009 22:57:48 11,070 posts
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    Fight Club haiku

    I have a lot to learn!
  • morriss 29 Apr 2009 23:04:25 71,293 posts
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    And the sunlight clasps the earth,
    And the moonbeams kiss the sea;--
    What are all these kissings worth,
    If thou kiss not me?
  • Super_Zee 29 Apr 2009 23:06:48 2,105 posts
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    Have a look at Blood Wedding by Federico Garcia Lorca (the translation by David Johnston, not the less poetic Ted Hughes version). The language is beautiful throughout but you might want to skip to Act 3 when it all turns a bit surreal - the Moon and Death come out to hunt down the fleeing couple and the poetry is stunning.

    It's also my favourite play of all time.
  • DavetheDave 29 Apr 2009 23:07:00 1,391 posts
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    Angel_Treats wrote:
    Fight Club haiku

    I have a lot to learn!

    Can I get that in a 5x10? :)
  • Angel_Treats 29 Apr 2009 23:08:26 11,070 posts
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    DavetheDave wrote:
    Angel_Treats wrote:
    Fight Club haiku

    I have a lot to learn!

    Can I get that in a 5x10? :)

    :D that's probably the first joined up writing I've done since about 1992.
  • gang_of_bitches 29 Apr 2009 23:18:07 5,707 posts
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    Well if you want someting you can knock off quickly I'd go for Mahabharata, just the 90,000 verses.
  • Master_Miller 29 Apr 2009 23:19:45 1,639 posts
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    Micheal Longley's really worth a look.
  • Bloodastral 12 Jun 2009 20:43:58 93 posts
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    The Wraith

    Haunting dreams;
    The sweat glistening naked body of a woman
    Now arisen, her moaning dissipated.
    Thrown back sheets perspiration dampened.
    She runs smooth shaking fingers through her hair,
    Bleak silence in the overcast room,
    The shadows return her stare.

    A shade of man, paralysis to the eye
    She finds within the subtle complications of her mind.
    A phantom stalker of the gloom filled night
    Had crept within to haunt the thoughts of man.
    She rests her palms, flat against her white thighs
    The physical touch a reassuring rein, to halt abrupt
    The cantering path of nights oblivion.

    The reiterated chorus of the wind
    Rattling on the latticed window frames,
    Draws back in its assault,
    Heeding the quiet menace of the room. She gasps
    In cold fear and ectasy, the chilly touch of night now rests;
    Upon her heaving breasts slender fingers swirl
    And nights still air, upon her body nests.

    Her lithe white legs now feel the caressing breath,
    As like the fanning wings of angels
    The air is fired with warmth and icy chill. Intangible
    Shapes of grey clasp now her body, lest
    In her naked fear and feel for paradise,
    She clasps her strength and cracks this darkened pool,
    Of swirling waters and tepid insurrection.

    A cacophany of sounds pierce her trembling lips.
    Satin drops of blood break from her skin,
    As ruby red they scatter.
    The wraith's desireable embrace turns to grey
    Steel crushing membranes.
    Love to horror.
    Tenderness to vampirism.
  • localnotail 12 Jun 2009 20:47:42 23,072 posts
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    Philip Larkin - This Be The Verse

    They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
    They may not mean to, but they do.
    They fill you with the faults they had
    And add some extra, just for you.

    But they were fucked up in their turn
    By fools in old-style hats and coats,
    Who half the time were soppy-stern
    And half at one another's throats.

    Man hands on misery to man.
    It deepens like a coastal shelf.
    Get out as early as you can,
    And don't have any kids yourself.
  • Deleted user 12 June 2009 20:50:29
    The boy stood on the burning deck
    He turned to face the front
    He saw a woman standing there
    and so he punched her in the hang on my phone's ringing
  • Red-Moose 12 Jun 2009 21:06:48 5,344 posts
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    I was once in spite
    Seven short of a monkey's bollock
    So I left it there
  • Xerx3s 12 Jun 2009 21:57:41 23,959 posts
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    Keats, failing that, this.
  • Deleted user 12 June 2009 21:57:43
    Bloodastral wrote:
    The Wraith

    Haunting dreams;
    The sweat glistening naked body of a woman
    Now arisen, her moaning dissipated.
    Thrown back sheets perspiration dampened.
    She runs smooth shaking fingers through her hair,
    Bleak silence in the overcast room,
    The shadows return her stare.

    A shade of man, paralysis to the eye
    She finds within the subtle complications of her mind.
    A phantom stalker of the gloom filled night
    Had crept within to haunt the thoughts of man.
    She rests her palms, flat against her white thighs
    The physical touch a reassuring rein, to halt abrupt
    The cantering path of nights oblivion.

    The reiterated chorus of the wind
    Rattling on the latticed window frames,
    Draws back in its assault,
    Heeding the quiet menace of the room. She gasps
    In cold fear and ectasy, the chilly touch of night now rests;
    Upon her heaving breasts slender fingers swirl
    And nights still air, upon her body nests.

    Her lithe white legs now feel the caressing breath,
    As like the fanning wings of angels
    The air is fired with warmth and icy chill. Intangible
    Shapes of grey clasp now her body, lest
    In her naked fear and feel for paradise,
    She clasps her strength and cracks this darkened pool,
    Of swirling waters and tepid insurrection.

    A cacophany of sounds pierce her trembling lips.
    Satin drops of blood break from her skin,
    As ruby red they scatter.
    The wraith's desireable embrace turns to grey
    Steel crushing membranes.
    Love to horror.
    Tenderness to vampirism.

    Sounds like a better version of the ramblings of my classmate in yr11. Proper self-obsessed-pseudo-intellectual-romanticism that was essentially a horny eroticism dressed up as gothic profundity and meaningful wordplay. i.e. SHITE. Not to be mean to that poem in partic, you understand.
  • simplerotation 12 Jun 2009 22:43:45 332 posts
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    I really like Dana Goia, he's a bit of a poet for people who don't like poetry.

    My favourite is Words

    http://www.danagioia.net/poems/words.htm

    And I really like unsaid
    http://www.danagioia.net/poems/unsaid.htm

    So much of what we live goes on inside–
    The diaries of grief, the tongue-tied aches
    Of unacknowledged love are no less real
    For having passed unsaid. What we conceal
    Is always more than what we dare confide.
    Think of the letters that we write our dead.
  • faux-C 12 Jun 2009 23:08:42 11,204 posts
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    All poetry is shit

    /someone had to say it
  • coastal 13 Jun 2009 00:12:25 5,430 posts
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    limericks > poetry

    /someone had to say it
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