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Poetics and Poetry Discussion


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  • Nehemiah Theophylus Haokip (9/3/2014 12:06:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    Once it was…
    I waited so long,
    I dream so big,
    Just to be your hero.
    I swear I was a broken glass,
    Somehow fixed by your voice,
    On the clear campus,
    I enjoyed of looking,
    Your walk with those foes
    I dream of being only the boy in campus,
    Just to see your smile at me.
    The first day of your smile,
    Was a secret view
    To share to my foes
    You freak my leg with your smile,
    And make me follow your smell.
    I surprise of being what to you,
    Coz once I was tempted,
    The word I will spell out for,
    Will be my raving thought for you
    You travel with a car,
    Sitting with a pelage sofa,
    And I go with a cycle,
    With my poor shoes
    Your every wish comes true,
    But my wish somehow seen on other hand,
    Coz my father wealth was not matured yet.
    But still!
    I somehow maintain to courage my broken heart.
    Once I was a lover,
    Who was fallen with a broken wings,
    From the high place of my kingdom,
    And those memories were written in my heart,
    But I believe,
    You will be my eraser to rub those memories.
    Oohhh my angle
    How will I make you love me?
    For I have no else to explain you.
    What are things?
    That will freeze your heart with me.
    Oohh baby love,
    Your perfume leads my way to you,
    For the tree was well planted for me,
    As I dare to love you,
    With my broken revival…


    Written by
    -Nehemiah theophylus haokip
    Date 19/7/13

  • Jefferson Carter (9/2/2014 6:20:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    So, Poemhumpers, instead of expending all my energy lashing Adam Snow and the hundreds of terrible ESL poets here, I decided to offer my services as a poetry editor to " Zocalo" magazine, a Tucson arts journal. Here's the first poem chosen. Hope you like it or at least can let go of your taste for bad 19th-century verse long enough to appreciate it.




    Zocalo Poetry – September
    August 31,2014

    THEIR MUSIC

    Rats of the air, winged vermin, the broadcaster
    spits into the microphone, and he could mean
    sad foreigners, unwanted refugees, homeless
    epithets assaulting and pockmarking the chinaberry trees
    with the bb’s fired by boys trying
    to cleanse the branches and roofs of
    the fornicating wings of the air. Pigeons
    nest all the time in this climate; even now
    two are thrashing their way through the dry husks
    of the palm into its green succulent center
    to feed their young. Someone on the radio says
    why don’t you ever see a baby pigeon, though
    they breed like rats, and I remember
    in the nest, how ugly the young were,
    blotched and naked, and how I loved them. Loved them most
    that morning when I could love myself
    in giving them their freedom, flinging open the three doors
    of my sister’s cages, and the 160 homing pigeons
    she’d kept there for years like a captive cloud
    swirled into the desert air to find their own compass,
    to home in on their own longitude and latitude.
    So now two are cooing and strutting
    on the neighbor’s tiles, and two are mating
    again beside the air conditioner, making it vibrate
    and shake, sending the sounds of pigeon love
    moaning down into the room. For they do love,
    it’s clear, from the way those two nestle so closely
    together, perched on the narrow of a single post;
    for hours, they preen each other, rub
    necks and breasts together, murmuring
    in those low tones that travel down
    into our houses, into the sterile white
    sepulchers of our hearts, as if we could speak
    the language of birds: thrive upon nothing,
    be driven by nothing, be obedient
    to nothing but love.

    – Rebecca Seiferle, author of Wild Tongue, is Tucson’s Poet Laureate.

    Replies for this message:
    • Lamont Palmer (9/3/2014 1:13:00 AM) Post reply Stage

      I like a lot of this, but parts of it, when read aloud, sounds like a passage from a novel, albeit, a well-written one. Prosaic rhythms just don't do it for me, even when imbued with a lively richness ... more

  • Mohammad Skati (9/2/2014 9:20:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    I read a lot of poetry especially the global poetry just to shape greater ideas of what's going around.

    Replies for this message:
    • Gulsher John (9/2/2014 11:42:00 AM) Post reply Stage

      salute ur wisdom Sir, Milton, Byron, Colridge Eliot, and Ashbery are nothing before u, plz dont forget to post at least 20 messages here on PH... please, please, please

  • Pranab K Chakraborty (9/2/2014 6:43:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    Sometimes flashes sometimes imitates my own:

    Be a gentle man in social relation
    never try to be much gentle
    while creation chasing you
    to catch your solitude

    Be a gentle man
    but never try
    to be a gentle composer
    who'll simply spoil the game
    thousand of years
    poets and artists
    bleed on the soil
    don't try to be gentle!

  • Abekah Emmanuel (9/2/2014 5:04:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    Dear fellow honourable hunters,
    It is my pleasure to be here once again. Let me thank Dr. Carter for his alert while I recommend Langston Hughes’s- I Too - to you all...As a matter of fact, I have just chosen his title for my latest poem entitled-I TOO, SING POETRY....check it out and leave your comment, your rates are equally significant. Thank you all!

  • Jefferson Carter (9/1/2014 4:50:00 PM) Post reply | Read 5 replies Stage

    Poemhumpers, this is a prize-winning poem?OK, I'll admit Richard Vargas, the editor, and I have been at each other's throats (he's one of those self-styled progressives who blocks you if you dare disagree with him) , and I'll admit there's no accounting for tastes. BUT to award this poem $500?I don't get it. What do you think?

    ON SCHEDULE

    (Winner of " The Mas Tequila Review’s" 1st Annual Margaret Randall Poetry Prize)

    The earth would continue
    turning, whether there’d been a second explosion
    or a flood or oil spill or indescribable heat.

    Whether the syllable of cancer soiled
    a sentence. Whether what we had could
    remind us of what we wouldn’t.

    We were working,
    and now we are hiding.

    We decide we need to be away
    from bridges and crossings and carnage.

    We call on raptors to release us,
    then we stock our pantries.
    We boot up for the open country.

    Geography causes everybody to worry
    about different things.

    We stand where we can see and meet
    our neighbors—

    where time moves shyly
    in single seconds.

    - Lauren Camp

    (Randall comments, this poem “is both grand and intimate. Its craft draws me in and rewards me, deeply. Its momentum builds. And I love its final two lines, which bring its vast geography into human time.”)

    Replies for this message:
    • Jim Hogg (9/2/2014 7:37:00 AM) Post reply | Read 4 replies Stage

      " Geography causes everybody to worry about different things." ?That seems to be astonishingly banal to me.. too obvious for words... worrying is the stuff of everyday life.. big deal.. & ... more

    • Gulsher John (9/2/2014 4:49:00 AM) Post reply Stage

      i don't like 'FIRST PERSON' that much...especially in poetry Ahhh 500 bucks! ! !

    • Lamont Palmer (9/2/2014 3:50:00 AM) Post reply Stage

      This poem is too preoccupied with saying something 'important'. There are a few nice lines in it, but the banalities override them. It typifies these kinds of contests where mediocre poems spewing pla ... more

    • Professor Plum (9/1/2014 8:38:00 PM) Post reply | Read 2 replies Stage

      Jeff, I love the ending and several line ... more


    To read all of 5 replies click here
  • Jefferson Carter (9/1/2014 11:43:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    Well, fellow Poemhumpers, my reading in St. Paul was good, a small but appreciative audience, which, I guess, is better than a large but indifferent crowd. I sold a couple of my new and selected, always satisfying, and re-connected with Bob, a friend from grad school, and his lovely partner, Ann. I also got to know David, the manager of Subtext books, and Steve Mueske, my fellow reader, whose work is really, really fine. I was going to read about 20 poems, but reading to 15 people feels like listening to one's echo. I cut out 5 poems but liked the way the new poems I did recite were received. Fun times in the land of 10,000 lakes.

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  • John Westlake (8/31/2014 7:32:00 PM) Post reply | Read 3 replies Stage

    My fellow poets (both young and old) , this is a friendly warning. There have been a few members who have been getting scam messages from members in Senegal. This is just one of the messages sent to one member:

    I am happy to view your profile
    today i pray and go through it than i decided to contact you,
    I am just a simple lady and single.
    I want you to understand that age, color or distance does not matter
    but loving and caring matters a lot in life,
    I will appreciate it so much if you directly contact me through my email address which is
    (missnabila4life@live.com) to enable me tell you more information about me,
    because i don't know much here I will await for your email
    Nabila


    As soon as you contact her/him/them via your email, she/he/they will basically tell you some sob story and say that they have a large amount of money (normally about £50,000) that they want give to you. They will ask for your bank details and ask them to send money to them, usually £500. Please for the love of the creator, don't send them any money and report their profile to Poem Hunter. These people are criminals who just want to take your money and give nothing in return. Please don't let these people corrupt the site and ruin it for every one. Please share this with ALL of your poem hunter contacts to let them know.

    Thanks for reading

    Profanisaurus

    Replies for this message:
  • Mohammad Skati (8/31/2014 12:17:00 PM) Post reply | Read 2 replies Stage

    I am, as a translator - an interpreter, reading a lot of poems in different languages and that helps me to figure out what's going on with different forms of poetry in different languages. I do translate a lot of poems on a daily basis for different poems by different poets just to convey poetry in a good way to many people. Thanks.

    Replies for this message:
  • Gajanan Mishra (8/30/2014 10:00:00 AM) Post reply | Read 3 replies Stage

    Let me come and see the world that is like me.

    Replies for this message:
    • Gangadharan Nair Pulingat (9/2/2014 11:50:00 PM) Post reply Stage

      wonderful performance dear poet and I always look for your poems which have new ideas of thoughts and simple words and such high imaginations. The numbers of poems written by you really wonderful. E ... more

    • Gulsher John (8/30/2014 9:48:00 PM) Post reply Stage

      what r u?*****

    • Frank Ovid (8/30/2014 7:15:00 PM) Post reply Stage

      Gajanan, congrats on being the 344th ranked poet in the world. Is that a typo?Come on!

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