Writing Poetry


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  • Beste Alpay (4/27/2005 9:39:00 AM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    Love—thou art high—
    I cannot climb thee—
    But, were it Two—
    Who know but we—
    Taking turns—at the Chimborazo—
    Ducal—at last—stand up by thee—

    Love—thou are deep—
    I cannot cross thee—
    But, were there Two
    Instead of One—
    Rower, and Yacht—some sovereign Summer—
    Who knows—but we'd reach the Sun?

    Love—thou are Veiled—
    A few—behold thee—
    Smile—and alter—and prattle—and die—
    Bliss—were an Oddity—without thee—
    Nicknamed by God—
    Eternity—

    Can somebody help me understand this poem? ? at least a little help will be helpful.

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    • Sue Casey (4/28/2005 7:31:00 PM) Post reply

      I believe that she is trying to say that as hard as people try to achieve love it can only be attained by a couple totally in tune one with each other. In other words they must indeed be true soul ma ... more


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  • Robert Rorabeck (4/27/2005 3:28:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    you don't like Ring of Fire? That was written by his wife June Carter anyway- and it's great too!

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  • Andy Konisberg (4/26/2005 7:58:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    I believe Johnny Cash's 'Hurt' is the finest song of all-time. I think the lyrics stand alone also.

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  • Robert Rorabeck (4/26/2005 1:03:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Johnny Cash's Redemption song lyrics off his American Recordings album:

    From the hands it came down
    From the side it came down
    From the feet it came down
    And ran to the ground
    Between heaven and hell
    A teardropp fell In the deep crimson dew
    The tree of life grew

    And the blood gave life
    To the branches of the tree
    And the blood was the price
    That set the captives free
    And the numbers that came
    Through the fire and the flood Clung to the tree
    And were redeemed by the blood

    From the tree streamed a light
    That started the fight 'Round the tree grew a vine
    On whose fruit I could dine
    My old friend Lucifer came
    Fought to keep me in chains
    But I saw through the tricks
    Of six-sixty-six

    And the blood gave life
    To the branches of the tree
    And the blood was the price
    That set the captives free
    And the numbers that came
    Through the fire and the flood Clung to the tree
    And were redeemed by the blood

    From his hands it came down
    From his side it came down
    From his feet it came down
    And ran to the ground
    And a small inner voice Said 'You do have a choice.'
    The vine engrafted me
    And I clung to the tree

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    • Poetry Hound (4/26/2005 7:23:00 AM) Post reply

      Well, it's a better lyric than 'Ring of Fire, ' which Frank Zappa famously satirized. Hey, anyone who sings, 'The vine engrafted me' is A-Okay with me.

  • Robert Rorabeck (4/26/2005 1:00:00 AM) Post reply

    After PH's recommendation I read all of Pastan's poems listed here and, yes, she is very, very good- She succeeds at what she sets out to do- her poems work- It's ridiculous to say whether or not she's a good or great poet, because that just gets into matters of opinion.

  • Poetry Hound (4/26/2005 12:50:00 AM) Post reply

    Well you're a little grouchy, aren't you Lamont? I don't know if 'A New Poet' is Linda Pastan's best. She has received quite a few awards and critical praise over the years, so I imagine she has something on the ball. Personally, I like some her other poems more. But this poem is a good one. Of course you're entitled to your own opinion about it. Not sure why you think it's not poetry - because it doesn't rhyme or because it's written in full sentences? Even your idol Anne Sexton wrote non-rhyming full-sentence poetry. Try reading some more Pastan and then report back.

  • Kissteena Zaini (4/23/2005 7:35:00 PM) Post reply

    Write with sincere meanings we must write it with our truly feelings from our heart. Just imagine if we write not with our sincere heart even though the lines are marvelous, they cannot be appreciated by the others.

  • Michael Shepherd (4/23/2005 7:03:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Googling Linda Pastan via the Cortland Review, issue 7, I came across a fine interview with Levine.

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  • Michael Shepherd (4/22/2005 3:48:00 PM) Post reply

    That's a nice poem, PoHo. For me, the biggest kick as a professional 'critic' (read appraiser) was being able to pass on those discoveries. It's the proof that we are all great -that we can instantly recognise the great in others. There's hope for the human race yet.

  • Poetry Hound (4/22/2005 8:34:00 AM) Post reply

    Like most people on poemhunter, I spend a lot of time reading the poetry of the greats. But I also come here in hopes of discovering new talent. It's quite a pleasant experience to find a new poet or even come across a poem by one of the regulars that speaks to me or moves me in some way. I've thought about how lurking here on poemhunter is a bit like fishing - lots of waiting and waiting and then every once in awhile you get a bite. But Linda Pastan, a favorite of mine, puts it even more poetically:


    A New Poet

    Finding a new poet
    is like finding a new wildflower
    out in the woods. You don't see

    its name in the flower books, and
    nobody you tell believes
    in its odd color or the way

    its leaves grow in splayed rows
    down the whole length of the page. In fact
    the very page smells of spilled

    red wine and the mustiness of the sea
    on a foggy day - the odor of truth
    and of lying.

    And the words are so familiar,
    so strangely new, words
    you almost wrote yourself, if only

    in your dreams there had been a pencil
    or a pen or even a paintbrush,
    if only there had been a flower.

    -Linda Pastan

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