So, who here is up for a little good natured poetry contest right here on the SDMB?
Let’s draw up some real basic rules and some sort of reward for the top three poems. I, for one, am very interested to see what kind of poetic talent is lurking out there.
Maybe we should link this thread and start a new one over in GD or MPSIMS.
Hell is Other People.
I find it a bit difficult to believe that a poetry contest run by you would be anywhere near “good-natured”.
“Excrement. That is what I think of J. Evans Pritchard, PhD.” --Robin Williams, Dead Poets Society
Chris’ Homepage: Domestic Bliss
Who the hell said I was going to “run” the contest? I invited the posters here to draw up some rules.
Please try real hard to read the posts and respond on topic, Chris!
Hell is Other People.
I’m afraid I lack all interest in battling couplets with anyone, Sake. As has been mentioned on this thread more than once, writing and sharing poetry can both be intensely personal acts. I might share some poems with those who truly wish to read them. But “contesting” my verse against someone else’s strikes me as futile and absurd. It’s bad enough to do it for purposes of publication. I won’t do it to score “points” on a message board.
Besides, up to now we haven’t even been ab;e to reach a consensus on Keats vs Yeats. And they’re only different by one letter.
The best lack all conviction
The worst are full of passionate intensity
Like I haven’t been throughout the entire thread.
Pardon me, but I think it’s a little funny that you would criticize and belittle people who “think” they’re poets and then suggest that we have a “contest.”
It sounds to me like you just want people to open themselves up for more of your insults.
I’m game, though. I don’t think it should be a contest, but I see no reason why not to start a new thread. I am very interested in reading the others’ work…especially new writers like Sunflower, et al.
“Excrement. That is what I think of J. Evans Pritchard, PhD.” --Robin Williams, Dead Poets Society
Chris’ Homepage: Domestic Bliss
There is nothing funny about what I suggested. In my OP I mentioned that my vitriol was not directed at serious poets. It was directed at those who would push their poetry on others. Having suggested a contest, I am basically asking to see your poetry, and would never attack you (or your poem) for granting my request.
Spiritus Mundi: What’s so absurd about a forum in which we all share one poem? It need not be ultra-personal and emotional. The “contest” aspect is important so we have some honor-system rules to prevent the thread from degenerating into attacks and dirty limericks.
I’ll open a new thread over in Great Debates, where we can either launch a contest or continue debating what poetry is and the relevance of certain poetic traditions and movements. Everyone is welcome and I promise not to be on the attack outside of the Pit.
Hell is Other People.
Sake: How can you run a poetry contest when I’ve already won?
As for the free verse vs. rhyming people:
I’ll be honest. I’m not much of a poet, and to tell you the truth, I don’t like straight poetry that much. (I say “straight” in order to not contradict myself with my next statement.) One of my passions, however, is music. I actually find the relative lack of music-related threads on this board disappointing, as it is probably the topic that I know the most about. But I have gotten off track. My point is: lyrics don’t have to rhyme. However, the greatest lyricist ever rhymed religiously. That’s part of what made (makes) him so great. And the best lyricist of this decade, who never made a point of rhyming before, just released a third album in which he does it much much more. It only enhances his lyrics. The ability to rhyme lines while not sacraficing meaning is the mark of a great poet, at least in my narrow mind. Just my $0.02, folks.
The IQ of a group is equal to the IQ of the dumbest member divided by the number of people in the group.
I do too! How dare someone grab you, strap you down, and read poetry aloud to you while keeping you awake with amphetamines? Oh, wait. I suppose that’s not your problem. In which case I would say, don’t buy the damn book, espece de con.}}
Obviously, you don’t have someone who considers him/herself a poet in your family. Every time I see a certain family member, I am forced to listen (in the name of family harmony) to this person’s latest navel-musings, plus “classics”. Either this person isn’t picking up on the hints that everyone drops, or s/he just doesn’t care. (Yes, this person has a gender. No, I’m not going to disclose it.)
I swear, I could survive a Vogon poetry reading now, thanks to my early training. I wouldn’t ENJOY it, but I could survive it.
Lynn the Packrat
Sunflower18 – I’d love to read some of your work. You sound like you are working from the heart, no matter your age. FUCK what anyone says, even me. Write what fills you. Share it with folks that might understand (you’ll probably find some good/bad/ugly here) but never, ever, let anyone tell you to stop. You have a voice, a part. Even if you find no comfort here, you will find it within the heart of at least ONE other person. That is a victory in itself. ChrisCTP summed it up very well in her post. All I can say is:
I love so deep so well
my heart explodes like
red ink on your heart
it’s just my passion
going
over
edge.
Best!
Byz
That’s exactly what I’m talking about Lynn. O’ my sister, it was sharp pains to me gulliver, strapped into that chair, shot full of milkplus and forced to listen to the third worst poetry in the galaxy, me ears propped open with toothpicks. Let me tell you, your faithfull narrator was in pure misery, conditioned real horrorshow.
I can’t hear Keats to this very day, without vomiting - but it was like that before, so it mightn’t have had a thing to do with the old treatment.
Hell is Other People.
Byzantine…I liked it 
Give these * *
clay feet
wings to fly * * *
* * to touch
the face of the stars *
~~Loreena Mckennitt~
Gah, what’s with all these “hearts” in poetry?! “My heart is heavy with remorse”, “My heart sings like the nightingale”, “My heart is uglier than a hat full of assholes”, my heart this, my heart that, yadda yadda yadda! Pah!
Can’t you brilliant poets out there use some other internal organ for a change? Like, “The love in my appendix knows no bounds”, or “How foul and dark is a liver scorned”?! Geesh! I mean, sure, pumping the blood around is certainly a useful function, but it’s not like that particular bloody fist-shaped boom-boom box in your chest is the cause of your emotions or anything. Most basic emotions come from the hypothalamus. How about an Ode to My Hypothalamus? Like this:
<BLOCKQUOTE>Ode to My Hypothalamus</BLOCKQUOTE>
<BLOCKQUOTE>O stem of nerve and power
Whose lightning strokes surge through me,
A director
Of the basest orchestra
That plays on my endocrine glands,
Ushering forth their fiery-hot and icy-cold chemical messengers
Into my blood like waves of cream or stinging swarms of wasps.
You play my body
Like the puppet it is,
Like the instrument I wish it were,
And all my joys and sorrows,
All the swells and falls that make like worth living,
Are entirely your fault.</BLOCKQUOTE>
Or how about a poem about the thyroid glands? Or the pancreas? Or – all right, let’s not hope for too much – how about a poem with a kidney or two in it?
Quick-N-Dirty Aviation: Trading altitude for airspeed since 1992.
Sunflower, the sad fact is that if you want your poetry to improve as you age, you have no choice but to listen when more experienced people tell you it is garbage and then listen when they explain why. All artists go through this their entire carrers–it is the only way to learn, because no one really has the objectivity to judge their own work, and to be able to pull the gold out of the dross all artists create.
This is my own number one beef with people who shove poems at me and ask me what I think. You hardly ever meet any one who really wants to know–instead they want pretty compliements. But the fact is, the great poets and writers are and were heavily edited. An artist needs the counter balence of an editor.