Why is this poem so utterly compelling to me? It suggests I need to more about my own heart, perhaps.

File: 181 KB, 736x736, 467c64fc9f8e70010ea6db55e2560640.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

Anonymous Sat Jul 25 08:16:30 2015 No.6877261 [Reply] [Original]

Why is this poem so utterly compelling to me?

It suggests I need to more about my own heart, perhaps.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 08:20:19 2015 No.6877268 >>6877261 It is the perfect example of how much of a mess poetry can be. No rhythm, cadence, rhyme. No work has gone into its structure, even if the message inside is thoughtful. It's just 2 sentences split up into 10 lines awkwardly.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 08:23:53 2015 No.6877278 >>6877268 It was written by Stephen Crane. Do you honestly require your poetry to rhyme or submit to iambic pentameter?

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 08:27:50 2015 No.6877289 >>6877278 Creativity can flourish without boundaries, but it also makes the wheat much harder to find in the plethora of chaff which results from said lack of boundaries. Just look at modern art.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 09:45:01 2015 No.6877461 >>6877289 heads up to everyone on this board - anyone who speaks of 'modern art' doesn't know what they're talking about and you should disregard their opinion

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 09:59:47 2015 No.6877491 >>6877461 >Art is everything : ^ )

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 10:01:59 2015 No.6877496 >>6877461 truth

>>	Carpocrates !!U54hziLbHNQ Sat Jul 25 10:07:14 2015 No.6877502 >>6877278 No, It was written by Stephen King.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 10:08:30 2015 No.6877512 >>6877461 So what is modern art then ?

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 10:11:22 2015 No.6877522 How do you read, understand, and 'get' poetry if you've never had an education in doing so? (Obviously talking about the more complex verses)

Anonymous Sat Jul 25 10:12:23 2015 No.6877525

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 10:14:20 2015 No.6877532 File: 44 KB, 469x547, ozymandias.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] I like this poem.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 10:17:22 2015 No.6877541 >>6877532 good taste

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 10:24:21 2015 No.6877557 See, look at the difference between >>6877525 and OP's tripe. One has clear use of poetic devices. The other is prose with weird line breaks to make it seem somehow "better".

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 10:32:31 2015 No.6877574 >>6877557 >The other is prose with weird line breaks to make it seem somehow "better". You're a dullard.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 12:08:43 2015 No.6877866 >>6877278 Well without form poetry isn't poetry, is it? It's just words on a page. And there are people that specialize in that too, people with much more skill.

Anonymous Sat Jul 25 12:38:49 2015 No.6877971

>>6877261

It does nothing for me. It doesn't strike me as anything worth putting down on paper.

Have some Plath for your troubles.
---------------
Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly

Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.

Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.

Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,

Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,

Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We

Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking

Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!

We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,

Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:

We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 12:42:06 2015 No.6877986 >>6877268 The best "poets" are those who write prose in poem format imo

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 12:59:12 2015 No.6878065 >>6877532 so does everyone

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 13:05:37 2015 No.6878092 >>6878065 it's a pretty nice poem

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 13:10:25 2015 No.6878111 Autism everywhere

Anonymous Sat Jul 25 13:23:28 2015 No.6878164

>>6877261
>It suggests I need to more about my own heart, perhaps.

how fucking stupid are you tbh

if anything, it's saying you need to brood less. the picture is grotesque. the man is cannibalizing himself, and it's bitter, and his only answer? "because it is my heart"? self-centered and self-destroying.

"Held his heart in his hands" reminds me a bit of Hazlitt's comment on Wordsworth: "This [the human heart] he probes, this he tampers with, this he poises, with all its incalculable weight of thought and feeling, in his hands". But the poem seems to describe a character more like Coleridge. Either way, it's a pretty clear critique of Romantic brooding.

Anonymous Sat Jul 25 13:32:44 2015 No.6878198

>>6877532
kind of trite. I remember liking that poem but now that I'm seeing it again, not so much. maybe I'm just saying that because I don't like Shelley, though. it's not awful, obviously. I'm not sure I agree that human art and understanding so well outlives tyranny. Nor do I find Ozymandias a convincing portrait of all tyrants. mostly it doesn't do much for me because I don't share Shelley's perpetual outrage

Larkin's "An Arundel Tomb" handles a similar subject much better imo

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 13:34:30 2015 No.6878203 >>6878164 Clear, insightful, and dat bantz Why cant /lit/ always be like this

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 13:42:44 2015 No.6878241 poem are the worst form of art

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 13:44:20 2015 No.6878247 >>6878241 Mind elaborating?

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 13:47:37 2015 No.6878264 Shelley, Plath, Larkin - some great choices, for once I am impressed /lit/

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 13:49:13 2015 No.6878271 >>6878203 Seconded. I'm about to start reading Hazlit, interested to see him quoted so well.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 13:50:23 2015 No.6878276 >>6877525 This is shit

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 13:53:32 2015 No.6878296 >>6878247 It's like creating short catchy slogans for ideas instead of writing a book about it or at least a few pages

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 13:53:48 2015 No.6878298 >>6878276 Fuck. You.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 13:54:16 2015 No.6878303 >>6878264 >plath >larkin >Shelley's most well known poem you're easily impressed

Anonymous Sat Jul 25 13:55:08 2015 No.6878307

The Flea

Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is;
It sucked me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be;
Thou know’st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead,
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pampered swells with one blood made of two,
And this, alas, is more than we would do.

Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, nay more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our mariage bed, and marriage temple is;
Though parents grudge, and you, w'are met,
And cloistered in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that, self-murder added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.

Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail, in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it sucked from thee?
Yet thou triumph’st, and say'st that thou
Find’st not thy self, nor me the weaker now;
’Tis true; then learn how false, fears be:
Just so much honor, when thou yield’st to me,
Will waste, as this flea’s death took life from thee.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 13:56:07 2015 No.6878313 >>6877557 Summer is here, ladies and gentlemen.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 13:57:56 2015 No.6878329 >>6878247 >showing your work Excuse me? This ain't STEM, sweety.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 13:58:28 2015 No.6878332 >>6878307 D O N N E O N N E

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 13:59:02 2015 No.6878336 >>6878164 fucking destroyed

Anonymous Sat Jul 25 14:03:31 2015 No.6878356

I don’t want to make too much of this,
but because the bedroom faces east
across a lake here in Florida,

when the sun begins to rise
and reflects off the water,
the whole room is suffused with the kind

of golden light that might travel
at dawn on the summer solstice
the length of a passageway in a megalithic tomb.

Again, I don’t want to exaggerate,
but it reminds me of a brand of light
that could illuminate the walls
of a hidden chamber full of treasure,
pearls and gold coins overflowing the silver platters.

I feel like comparing it to the fire
that Aphrodite lit in the human eye
so as to make it possible for us to perceive
the other three elements,

but the last thing I want to do
is risk losing your confidence
by appearing to lay it on too thick.

Let’s just say that the morning light here
would bring to any person’s mind
the rings of light that Dante

deploys in the final cantos of the Paradiso
to convey the presence of God,
while bringing the Divine Comedy
to a stunning climax and leave it at that.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 14:05:20 2015 No.6878360 >>6878356 They tried to hard, doesn't have any substance or emotion.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 14:07:03 2015 No.6878369 File: 48 KB, 271x353, Hart_Crane.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>6878356 rubbish

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 14:08:25 2015 No.6878374 >>6878203 There are many on /lit/ deserving of a good, hearty enema. See >>6877937

Anonymous Sat Jul 25 14:15:09 2015 No.6878403

>>6878356
I'm going to guess that this must have been written just after the modernists. it's a little much for us, but try to remember how the modernists sneered at sentiment. but I think it fails in one particular regard: the imagery is a little flat. and some of the words feel painfully unpoetic to me. I don't know what he was aiming at with "a megalithic tomb" but he really loses me there. Also, he lays on a little too thick the "Again, I don't want to exaggerate" thing.

I don't know whether he's being intentionally unpoetic calling something a "stunning climax" or saying Dante "deploys" lights "to convey" something. It might be intended, or he might just have little talent for poetry.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 14:17:30 2015 No.6878417 File: 31 KB, 520x324, men.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>6877268 >rhyming poetry

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 14:20:04 2015 No.6878435 >>6878374 he's joking >>6878417 rhyme is great when used judiciously

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 14:30:15 2015 No.6878470 >>6877525 I like it.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 14:34:26 2015 No.6878494 >>6877525 >The only other sound’s the sweep >Of easy wind and downy flake. spinal feels every time

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 14:35:35 2015 No.6878498 English is the worst language for poetry

Muck Bulligan !!ryE2gEjGbpu Sat Jul 25 14:40:46 2015 No.6878522
File: 129 KB, 500x643, yo acuerdo.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

>>6878164
absolutely not

he likes it not in spite of its bitterness, but because of it, because it's ugly and yet also himself. the wanderer does not know how bitter his own heart is because he has not tasted it, so he sees the eater as "bestial" when in reality the only thing separating him from the man is the knowledge of the taste of his heart. the image is grotesque, but the blood and gore that make it so are quite literally found within all of us, and though they are bitter, they are our heart

crane was absolutely not the type of person to "say you need to brood less," his broodings over his early life were a great source of inspiration for his writing. he was also not the type to trumpet any ideas of transcendence, like the wanderer's idea that he is somehow more human than the eater. he instead wrote of nuanced carnality that many people, like yourself, believe cannot even exist

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 14:41:39 2015 No.6878528 >>6877461 >>6877986 >>6878313 >>6878417 reddit af >no slamz no good

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 14:48:26 2015 No.6878555 >>6878522 worst trip

Anonymous Sat Jul 25 14:58:10 2015 No.6878615

>>6878522
oh, it's THAT kind of early modernism huh

all I can say, then, is that a better perspective was right under his nose.

so the heart is the fruit, the knowledge is our own bestiality, and we should like it because that's how we are? I'll admit I mistook the picture for self-consumption because I missed the way he was using the story of the fall.

I think I missed that interpretation partly because I was giving him the benefit of the doubt. I forgot how thoroughly rotten some of the ideas in poetry were in that century. It's as meaningless to me as Shelley's interpretation of Milton, as ugly as Williams' "This Is Just To Say".

Thanks for pointing out my mistake.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 15:08:41 2015 No.6878670 >>6878498 Read Beowulf or Chaucer or Milton.

Anonymous Sat Jul 25 15:11:11 2015 No.6878683

>>6878522
also, insofar as we are discussing ideas rather than poetry, "the blood and gore that make it so are quite literally found within all of us" misses a point by taking things "quite literally". Gore is not gore by being bloody, or existing. The body is clean, and ungory, and lovely, by being in a certain order. Gore is not what is inside; it is the disruption of proper place by taking the body apart. A man blown to smallest parts by a grenade is the same matter that makes the living man; yet it is not "the same" as the living man. Indeed I don't believe in the existence of a "nuanced carnality"; I think there is far more wisdom to be found in the Christian tradition of getting outside of the body, and the worst depths of the mind, and instead investing your attention in God and all the life outside yourself:

". . . . —that serene and blessed mood,
In which the affections gently lead us on,—
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame
And even the motion of our human blood
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
In body, and become a living soul:
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things."

Laid asleep in body: that is the point.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 15:24:37 2015 No.6878733 >>6878307 This is disgusting tbh.

Anonymous Sat Jul 25 15:27:40 2015 No.6878744

I hate modern poets because they pride themselves on their unintelligibility, their esoteric thought, their completely individual genius. They are narcissists who sing to themselves and expect others to take an interest.

It's funny how ANTI-democratic modern poetry is, and how popular medieval poetry is with its constant singing of popular human themes and situations instead of the individual impressions and reflections of lone geniuses.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 15:31:26 2015 No.6878757 kind of shocked at all the plebs in the thread but i guess i should've known most people here are high schoolers

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 15:39:32 2015 No.6878789 >>6877261 I find it suggests finding peace within oneself.

Anonymous Sat Jul 25 15:43:21 2015 No.6878808

>>6878744
This.

Good, beautiful modern poetry:

Widower in the country

I’ll get up soon, and leave my bed unmade.
I’ll go outside and split off kindling wood,
From the yellow-box log that lies beside the gate,
And the sun will be high, for I get up late now.
I’ll drive my axe in the log and come back in
With my armful of wood, and pause to look across
The Christmas paddocks aching in the heat,
The windless trees, the nettles in the yard…
And then I’ll go in, boil water and make tea.

This afternoon, I’ll stand out on the hill
And watch my house away below, and how
The roof reflects the sun and makes my eyes
Water and close on bright webbed visions smeared
On the dark of my thoughts to dance and fade away,
Then the sun will move on, and I will simply watch,
Or work, or sleep. And evening will draw in.

Coming on dark, I’ll go home, light the lamp
And eat my corned-beef supper, sitting there
At the head of the table. Then I’ll go to bed.
Last night I thought I dreamt – but when I woke
The screaming was only a possum skiing down
The iron roof on little moonlit claws.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 17:17:50 2015 No.6879156 >>6878303 Yeah fuck off edge lord

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 17:36:07 2015 No.6879222 >>6878670 This

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 18:10:00 2015 No.6879363 >>6878670 >Beowulf >Attractive poetry

Anonymous Sat Jul 25 19:39:07 2015 No.6879723

>>6877461

>Millennial Intellectualism is about dicatating what is offensive.
>"heads up to everyone on this board - anyone who speaks of 'modern art' is offensive and yucky"

It's getting so bad, nearly every liberal criticism can be summed up as "its offensive."

>SAVE US ALAN BLOOM.
>SAVE USSSS!!!!

Anonymous Sat Jul 25 19:41:15 2015 No.6879730

>>6878744
There is actually a three pole spectrum

>Individualist
>Democratic
>Authoritarian

Right now, we are fundamental individualists. It is a moral crime to expect anything from anyone, and we must all seek to appease every single snowflake.

This was why we struggle to understand why OWS was such a failure. It was both anti-democratic AND anti-Authoritarian.

Nothing more than a fit of narcissistic rage.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 20:06:29 2015 No.6879811 you guys please keep posting poetry and talking about the poems this is a good thread and i am learning things

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 20:11:22 2015 No.6879825 File: 23 KB, 385x449, OBRF.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] I know it's about old age, but... wouldn't it now also apply to poetry in general?

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 23:17:10 2015 No.6880458 >>6878303 shelley's less well-known poems are not good if somebody posted them I would not think they had better taste

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 23:26:26 2015 No.6880483 >>6877532 Can someone recommend any other cold-as-fuck poems that give chills like Ozymandias ? Not a poetry guy, there's only about 5 poems I have liked in my lifetime.

>>	Anonymous Sat Jul 25 23:59:36 2015 No.6880607 >>6880483 >cold-as-fuck poems > taking it literally St Agnes by Keats > taking metaphorically Mariana by Tennyson > taking metaphysically Tea by Stevens

>>	Ignatius Neworleanus Rex Intel(...) Sun Jul 26 00:28:34 2015 No.6880688 File: 44 KB, 500x480, O7R5IVJ.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>6880483 The Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock, and if you like that The Wasteland The Wastelnd is ice cold

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 00:35:00 2015 No.6880708 >>6880688 literally high school "babby's first poems" don't even pretend you read poetry, you clearly don't

>>	Ignatius Neworleanus Rex Intel(...) Sun Jul 26 01:31:13 2015 No.6880865 >>6880708 I feel bad for you if you really feel that way about Eliot. But yeah, I think Wordsworth is a joke, Blake is awful and tend to hate most poetry. Really I don't like poetry, I like Eliot.

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 01:43:00 2015 No.6880897 >>6880865 >Really I don't like poetry, I like Eliot. I think this is most Eliot fans

Anonymous Sun Jul 26 01:46:17 2015 No.6880907

>>6880865
>Wordsworth is a joke

and these people claim they're "into literature"

>>6880708
>Wasteland
>high school

nah man that's some university sophomore shit. but Eliot can also be enjoyed by much better readers than them.

Still, I can't imagine ever taking The Wasteland over the Four Quartets. The Dry Salvages is first-rate poetry.

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 01:53:58 2015 No.6880931 >>6880907 >nah man that's some university sophomore shit if you're too stupid to grab some annotations to go with it while you read, sure as a poem though it's terrible

Anonymous Sun Jul 26 01:57:32 2015 No.6880942

Of Mans First Disobedience, and the Fruit
Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal tast
Brought Death into the World, and all our woe,
With loss of EDEN, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful Seat,
Sing Heav'nly Muse, that on the secret top
Of OREB, or of SINAI, didst inspire
That Shepherd, who first taught the chosen Seed,
In the Beginning how the Heav'ns and Earth
Rose out of CHAOS: Or if SION Hill
Delight thee more, and SILOA'S Brook that flow'd
Fast by the Oracle of God; I thence
Invoke thy aid to my adventrous Song,
That with no middle flight intends to soar
Above th' AONIAN Mount, while it pursues
Things unattempted yet in Prose or Rhime.
And chiefly Thou O Spirit, that dost prefer
Before all Temples th' upright heart and pure,
Instruct me, for Thou know'st; Thou from the first
Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread
Dove-like satst brooding on the vast Abyss
And mad'st it pregnant: What in me is dark
Illumine, what is low raise and support;
That to the highth of this great Argument
I may assert th' Eternal Providence,
And justifie the wayes of God to men.

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 01:57:32 2015 No.6880943 >>6880897 agreed

>>	Ignatius Neworleanus Rex Intel(...) Sun Jul 26 02:01:25 2015 No.6880956 >>6880907 Four Quartets is turgid, after the fact, philosophy dissertation material choked into a poem-like form. It doesn't even begin to compare to The Wasteland.

Anonymous Sun Jul 26 02:01:47 2015 No.6880958

Say first, for Heav'n hides nothing from thy view
Nor the deep Tract of Hell, say first what cause
Mov'd our Grand Parents in that happy State,
Favour'd of Heav'n so highly, to fall off
From their Creator, and transgress his Will
For one restraint, Lords of the World besides?
Who first seduc'd them to that fowl revolt?
Th' infernal Serpent; he it was, whose guile
Stird up with Envy and Revenge, deceiv'd
The Mother of Mankinde, what time his Pride
Had cast him out from Heav'n, with all his Host
Of Rebel Angels, by whose aid aspiring
To set himself in Glory above his Peers,
He trusted to have equal'd the most High,
If he oppos'd; and with ambitious aim
Against the Throne and Monarchy of God
Rais'd impious War in Heav'n and Battel proud
With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power
Hurld headlong flaming from th' Ethereal Skie
With hideous ruine and combustion down
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
In Adamantine Chains and penal Fire,
Who durst defie th' Omnipotent to Arms.
Nine times the Space that measures Day and Night
To mortal men, he with his horrid crew
Lay vanquisht, rowling in the fiery Gulfe
Confounded though immortal: But his doom
Reserv'd him to more wrath; for now the thought
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain
Torments him; round he throws his baleful eyes
That witness'd huge affliction and dismay
Mixt with obdurate pride and stedfast hate:
At once as far as Angels kenn he views
The dismal Situation waste and wilde,
A Dungeon horrible, on all sides round
As one great Furnace flam'd, yet from those flames
No light, but rather darkness visible
Serv'd only to discover sights of woe,
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
That comes to all; but torture without end
Still urges, and a fiery Deluge, fed
With ever-burning Sulphur unconsum'd:
Such place Eternal Justice had prepar'd
For those rebellious, here their Prison ordain'd
In utter darkness, and their portion set
As far remov'd from God and light of Heav'n
As from the Center thrice to th' utmost Pole.
O how unlike the place from whence they fell!
There the companions of his fall, o'rewhelm'd
With Floods and Whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,
He soon discerns, and weltring by his side
One next himself in power, and next in crime,
Long after known in PALESTINE, and nam'd
BEELZEBUB. To whom th' Arch-Enemy,
And thence in Heav'n call'd Satan, with bold words
Breaking the horrid silence thus began.

>>	Ignatius Neworleanus Rex Intel(...) Sun Jul 26 02:04:29 2015 No.6880965 >>6880907 and Wordsworth is the biggest joke in literature. Really just an awful awful writer in every respect.

Anonymous Sun Jul 26 02:05:19 2015 No.6880969

If thou beest he; But O how fall'n! how chang'd
From him, who in the happy Realms of Light
Cloth'd with transcendent brightnes didst outshine
Myriads though bright: If he whom mutual league,
United thoughts and counsels, equal hope,
And hazard in the Glorious Enterprize,
Joynd with me once, now misery hath joynd
In equal ruin: into what Pit thou seest
From what highth fal'n, so much the stronger provd
He with his Thunder: and till then who knew
The force of those dire Arms? yet not for those
Nor what the Potent Victor in his rage
Can else inflict do I repent or change,
Though chang'd in outward lustre; that fixt mind
And high disdain, from sence of injur'd merit,
That with the mightiest rais'd me to contend,
And to the fierce contention brought along
Innumerable force of Spirits arm'd
That durst dislike his reign, and me preferring,
His utmost power with adverse power oppos'd
In dubious Battel on the Plains of Heav'n,
And shook his throne. What though the field be lost?
All is not lost; the unconquerable Will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield:
And what is else not to be overcome?
That Glory never shall his wrath or might
Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace
With suppliant knee, and deifie his power
Who from the terrour of this Arm so late
Doubted his Empire, that were low indeed,
That were an ignominy and shame beneath
This downfall; since by Fate the strength of Gods
And this Empyreal substance cannot fail,
Since through experience of this great event
In Arms not worse, in foresight much advanc't,
We may with more successful hope resolve
To wage by force or guile eternal Warr
Irreconcileable, to our grand Foe,
Who now triumphs, and in th' excess of joy
Sole reigning holds the Tyranny of Heav'n.

Anonymous Sun Jul 26 02:08:56 2015 No.6880976

So spake th' Apostate Angel, though in pain,
Vaunting aloud, but rackt with deep despare:
And him thus answer'd soon his bold Compeer.
O Prince, O Chief of many Throned Powers,
That led th' imbattelld Seraphim to Warr
Under thy conduct, and in dreadful deeds
Fearless, endanger'd Heav'ns perpetual King;
And put to proof his high Supremacy,
Whether upheld by strength, or Chance, or Fate,
Too well I see and rue the dire event,
That with sad overthrow and foul defeat
Hath lost us Heav'n, and all this mighty Host
In horrible destruction laid thus low,
As far as Gods and Heav'nly Essences
Can Perish: for the mind and spirit remains
Invincible, and vigour soon returns,
Though all our Glory extinct, and happy state
Here swallow'd up in endless misery.
But what if he our Conquerour, (whom I now
Of force believe Almighty, since no less
Then such could hav orepow'rd such force as ours)
Have left us this our spirit and strength intire
Strongly to suffer and support our pains,
That we may so suffice his vengeful ire,
Or do him mightier service as his thralls
By right of Warr, what e're his business be
Here in the heart of Hell to work in Fire,
Or do his Errands in the gloomy Deep;
What can it then avail though yet we feel
Strength undiminisht, or eternal being
To undergo eternal punishment?
Whereto with speedy words th' Arch-fiend reply'd.

Anonymous Sun Jul 26 02:10:00 2015 No.6880980

>>6880965

he may be, but so is Eliot to anyone who actually reads poetry. He is the best-kept academia secret because he produces a lot of jobs where people read his garbage and produce exegesis on it for positions. There is nothing poetic about the majority of his work, and the Wasteland is one of his worst (Four Quartets somehow manages to be worse.) He was well learned, sure, but reading and speaking a lot of languages doesn't make you a good poet. Talent does. He and wordsworth lacked it, Eliot probably even more.

besides, you're literally an Eliot fan, you have absolutely no right to call any poet shit

Anonymous Sun Jul 26 02:11:36 2015 No.6880985

Fall'n Cherube, to be weak is miserable
Doing or Suffering: but of this be sure,
To do ought good never will be our task,
But ever to do ill our sole delight,
As being the contrary to his high will
Whom we resist. If then his Providence
Out of our evil seek to bring forth good,
Our labour must be to pervert that end,
And out of good still to find means of evil;
Which oft times may succeed, so as perhaps
Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb
His inmost counsels from their destind aim.
But see the angry Victor hath recall'd
His Ministers of vengeance and pursuit
Back to the Gates of Heav'n: The Sulphurous Hail
Shot after us in storm, oreblown hath laid
The fiery Surge, that from the Precipice
Of Heav'n receiv'd us falling, and the Thunder,
Wing'd with red Lightning and impetuous rage,
Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now
To bellow through the vast and boundless Deep.
Let us not slip th' occasion, whether scorn,
Or satiate fury yield it from our Foe.
Seest thou yon dreary Plain, forlorn and wilde,
The seat of desolation, voyd of light,
Save what the glimmering of these livid flames
Casts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend
From off the tossing of these fiery waves,
There rest, if any rest can harbour there,
And reassembling our afflicted Powers,
Consult how we may henceforth most offend
Our Enemy, our own loss how repair,
How overcome this dire Calamity,
What reinforcement we may gain from Hope,
If not what resolution from despare.

Anonymous Sun Jul 26 02:11:37 2015 No.6880986

>>6880976

also whoever you are stop posting Milton we get it you read it for the first time recently and it's the only english language epic poem you read and it's pretty good but can you pick something a bit less obnoxious to spam

try Faerie Queene or Hyperion or something

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 02:11:54 2015 No.6880987 >>6880965 Do you expect to say that you like no poetry other than Eliot, and then have your opinions taken seriously? Are you that delusional?

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 02:15:59 2015 No.6881003 >>6880980 >Eliot >not a good poet what Eliot is damn near the face of early modernism how can you even begin to consider him a bad poet?

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 02:17:13 2015 No.6881005 >>6878332 L O N D O N N E O N D O N N E

Ignatius Neworleanus Rex Intel(...) Sun Jul 26 02:19:33 2015 No.6881010

>>6880980
kk, haha whatever, truce man. I def do not read poetry beyond what I am forced to for my line of study

If you really don't think The Wasteland is the cultural orgasm after a century and a half of romantic/realist build up then I don't know what to say other than read it again.

>>	Ignatius Neworleanus Rex Intel(...) Sun Jul 26 02:22:01 2015 No.6881014 >>6880987 not by you, I really don't care what you have to say about anything

Anonymous Sun Jul 26 02:22:10 2015 No.6881016

>>6881003
>Eliot is damn near the face of early modernism how can you even begin to consider him a bad poet?

Joseph Conrad IS the face of early modernism and I don't even have to BEGIN calling him mediocre

just like I have no trouble going further and calling Eliot trash

> face of early modernism

how does that make him immortal from attack? if I were the leader of a movement called shitstainism and my breakthrough poem was called the Shitland:

Penis is the harshest meat, breeding
Black babies out of white whores, moving
White people out of cities, killing
Those who didn't move;
<insert german>
O o o o o o o that Kanye West rag,
It's so /mu/
It's understood by few (cuz it's art)
<plagiarize something by a fellow unknown poet here>
Your mother's panties are falling down falling down falling down
drip drip cum, drip drip
for thine is the thong of
for thine is
Fuckye Fuckye Fuckye

Am I suddenly a good poet? I'm damn near the face of early shitstainism!

Anonymous Sun Jul 26 02:30:57 2015 No.6881032

>>6881010
>If you really don't think The Wasteland is the cultural orgasm after a century and a half of romantic/realist build up then I don't know what to say other than read it again.

No shit it is, but that does not mean that the orgasm is good. The orgasm after a century of a half of actually worthwhile poetry and literature in fact is only bound to be bad

when will the orgasm come after our eliot/pound-led wasteland in poetry? I want someone worth reading past Crane and maybe Ashbery, who's about to die any day

Anonymous Sun Jul 26 02:31:52 2015 No.6881034

>>6881016
Okay yeah but the burden of proof still rests with you. You can't just say, "he's a bad poet who lacks talent" without explaining how he lacks talent. You said it yourself that people are producing exegesis' of his work so obviously something of merit has to be there. Eliot is a master of manipulating form and weaving in allusion without it ever becoming overbearing (like a lot of his contemporaries did). You can't honestly tell me that Prufrock isn't a wonderfully written poem that summarizes the feeling of disparity and purposelessness of the post-war western world. How can you look at a poem like that and not find some talent or merit in it?

Sure you could say Conrad is early modernist lit but Eliot is without a doubt one of, if not THE key figure, of early modernist poetry. He managed to encapsulate a post-war style of expression perfectly by manipulating poetic structure in unconventional ways without ever stifling the natural beauty of his language.

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 02:34:47 2015 No.6881041 >>6877289 Holy shit that was just about the most pretentious and obtuse thing that I've ever read.

Anonymous Sun Jul 26 02:38:58 2015 No.6881047

>>6881034
>Eliot is a master of manipulating form and weaving in allusion without it ever becoming overbearing (like a lot of his contemporaries did).

What? "Every line is an allusion to a rare sanscrit document x) tee hee" Wasteland isn't fucking overbearing?

> You said it yourself that people are producing exegesis' of his work so obviously something of merit has to be there.

There's also tons of exegesis of Langston Hughes, Sylvia Plath, Poe, etc. so no, just because it has it doesn't mean it's for anything of worth, just cultural impact

> master of manipulating form

by sloppily ignoring it and pretending it's a complex weaving of it?

> You can't honestly tell me that Prufrock isn't a wonderfully written poem that summarizes the feeling of disparity and purposelessness of the post-war western world.

No, it's one of his only worthwhile ones, and I agree, it's a nice poem. But it's his earliest true poem and he wrote few things like it afterwards.

> if not THE key figure, of early modernist poetry.

doesn't automatically make him good

> He managed to encapsulate a post-war style of expression perfectly by manipulating poetic structure in unconventional ways without ever stifling the natural beauty of his language.

Unconventional, sure, but in my poem I unconventionally juxtaposed black crime with the idea of cuckoldry and pastiche of eliot with symbols of post-sexual tension and 4chan style of expression in a way that's never been done before, all without stifling the natural beauty of my language.

Anonymous Sun Jul 26 02:42:46 2015 No.6881061

>>6881047
>but in my poem I unconventionally juxtaposed black crime with the idea of cuckoldry and pastiche of eliot with symbols of post-sexual tension and 4chan style of expression in a way that's never been done before, all without stifling the natural beauty of my language.
post it.
If you can legitimately capture themes like that in your poetry while still maintaining a natural fluidity of language in the same vein as Eliot then you deserve to be a fucking laureate.

Anonymous Sun Jul 26 02:43:54 2015 No.6881065

>>6881061
> post it.

>>6881016

The Shitland, by anon

>Penis is the harshest meat, breeding
>Black babies out of white whores, moving
>White people out of cities, killing
>Those who didn't move;
><insert german>
>O o o o o o o that Kanye West rag,
>It's so /mu/
>It's understood by few (cuz it's art)
><plagiarize something by a fellow unknown poet here>
>Your mother's panties are falling down falling down falling down
>drip drip cum, drip drip
>for thine is the thong of
>for thine is
>Fuckye Fuckye Fuckye

Anonymous Sun Jul 26 02:48:09 2015 No.6881073

>>6881065

so I'm gonna sleep now but

lmao I don't hate eliot THAT much, he's crap but I don't care

I just hate people who like eliot

eliot was probs a cool guy who just had a bit of talent issues, I'd drink with him, he was a genius except with his art and well read

you're not any of those though, so no drink for you

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 02:50:54 2015 No.6881082 >>6880980 >he may be, but so is Eliot poetry is wasted on you

Anonymous Sun Jul 26 02:53:37 2015 No.6881089

>>6881082
>poetry is wasted on you

> says someone who wouldn't lump those two together in the "why is this still being taught" pile" and who probably can't recite a single poem let alone name one from the Victorians or Pre-Raphaelites or even knows what the Pre-Raphaelites are

Anonymous Sun Jul 26 03:02:54 2015 No.6881108

>>6881073
>>6881065
if it's any consolation, the beginning of your poem is sorta interesting in a really shallow deliberate "message-in-your-face" way. I don't even mean that in jest, it's really creative for its primitive purpose. Of course after the first quatrain it falls apart.

Eliot had subtlety, he had allusions that were relevant and reinforced the themes of his works, he manipulated form in ways that were beneficial and original, and he had a style of expression that damn near defined the period after him. What's more, as evidenced by the wasteland, he can mantain his style for an extended period of time without it becoming forced or fatigued. He took the romance of romanticism and completely flipped it on its head, keeping its general attitude but completely perverting the purpose for his post-war nihilistic deconstructions. Even when he began to delve into religious concepts and themes he still maintained a very apparent Eliot style of modernist poetry, a style that was so unique it became the forerunner for an entire literary movement, showing that his skill wasn't in the message but in the deliverance of his words. Eliot was a master of Modernism in every sense of the fucking word.

It's obvious that you don't have a strong understanding of Eliot. You haven't given an actual criticism to him explicitly besides "he doesn't have talent here I can make mom jokes". I mean for fucks sake, you're basic freshman English class is going to cover Eliot and why he's the shit.

Anonymous Sun Jul 26 03:07:38 2015 No.6881115

>>6881089
>implying I didn't spend a few hours last night looking at and thinking about Millais' art
though that is a coincidence. I don't think much about them in general.

I can also recite a bit of Tennyson and a bit of Hardy. Not that it matters. Comme l'on serait savant si l'on conaissait bien seulement cinq a six livres. It wouldn't matter if all I knew about them was cursory. No man is really well versed in all things.

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 04:33:29 2015 No.6881291 >>6878555 absolutely not, disregarding these trips

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 05:36:42 2015 No.6881385 >>6877986 >posted on /lit/ - Literature the 25th of July 2015 Is /lit/ definitely dead?

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 05:42:38 2015 No.6881393 Is this what constitutes a good thread on /lit/? A mockery of somebody's favourite poem descending into bashing of celebrated masters of the art?

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 05:47:22 2015 No.6881405 File: 193 KB, 1024x682, 1362895809499.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] Someone’s coming from the other world. Hiss of night rain. Someone’s going there now. The two are sure to meet.

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 06:20:01 2015 No.6881449 >>6881393 no, not exactly. it is 4chan, but there have been fairly good threads -- a recent one comes to mind: >>/lit/thread/S6821830

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 06:27:15 2015 No.6881461 >>6878522 >>6878164 Somehow I agree with both of you

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 06:33:47 2015 No.6881471 >>6881393 /lit/ isn't some magical board different from all the others, the average posting age here is probably somewhere around 18 - 22. slightly older than the other boards but still full of young shitkicks.

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 06:37:44 2015 No.6881483 >>6877532 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T3dpghfRBHE

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 06:42:13 2015 No.6881500 >>6877532 back to reddit the poem

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 06:46:53 2015 No.6881518 one of the very first threads on /lit/, in March of 2010: >>/lit/thread/S410803 >implying /lit/ was never not shit

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 12:54:01 2015 No.6882520 File: 242 KB, 750x1334, image.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] Housman

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 13:04:06 2015 No.6882546 George William Russell, who wrote under the pen name "AE", is one of the most underrated poets on this board. http://www.bartleby.com/253/103.html

Anonymous Sun Jul 26 13:24:15 2015 No.6882627

>>6881393
It's not even good mocking. Anyway /lit/ wanes and waxes. In the meantime there's Nils Ferlin. It's summer now and the board moves too fast, hopefully it will reach critical-shit mass soon, the kids leave and then the old badgers will come out to roost again with quality shitposting and evilly smirkful handholding

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 13:49:00 2015 No.6882718 >>6877971 Doesn't make any sense.

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 13:55:52 2015 No.6882741 File: 1.40 MB, 300x257, ainsley laugh.gif [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>6882627 >and the board moves too fast >/lit/ >''moves too fast''

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 14:09:28 2015 No.6882792 >>6877268 8/10

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 21:18:54 2015 No.6884716 IN THE DESERT I've been through the desert, On a horse with no name, It felt good to be out of the rain, In the desert, You can remember your name, 'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain La, la, la la la la la, la la, la Laaa La

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 21:28:14 2015 No.6884748 File: 167 KB, 800x264, noir.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>6882627 >boards moves too fast have you ever been on the bigger boards?

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 21:39:09 2015 No.6884779 >>6877971 What the fuck is this supposed to mean

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 21:45:02 2015 No.6884805 >>6877261 i mean damn, that poems for those out there who aren't built to enjoy life and prefer to thrive in misery and self-loathing me

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 21:53:04 2015 No.6884836 >>6880708 Who let you out

>>	Anonymous Sun Jul 26 23:41:32 2015 No.6885402 >>6884748 >>6882741 lek decent images but you kids are sometimes just too much.

Anonymous Sun Jul 26 23:50:45 2015 No.6885430

I'm so black quarterback throw off this app by his badge
Blare my organ for juice spike blonde kinks on my boots
Approach me licking his fur whining "I demand a word"
Swine must be the all the way hatched hell yolk raining down his chest
Clucking so fucking hard glance heartbeat through his vest
So I'm like, "Go ahead, blood" but my mind's on my wrist
Five minutes pass I'm a have to make you my piss
Gimp just kept shaking so I had to braid him like this
Comfort over freedom, pave a path of leisure, have it all
Freedom over comfort, give you back so much leisure, feel small
Xeroxed man dressed in gauze spider silk and menopause
Mustache showered with applause squished out packets like taco sauce
Gather crowd laugh it off Mr. Zogged by your boss

I'm so black quarterback, air it out, albino
Black quarterback in all black
He's so white, no
I'm so black quarterback in all black, albino

Heady baby, Eddie's crazy
Cadabra, abrogate need
To blut bank on absolutely

Bad ass Betty maiden bb
In over our heads and sinking
Autobahning Wonder Stevie
Faster comrade winking

Dangling out the
Waning in the
Kicked under the
Vague it on the
Me versus the
Losing to the
Cackling like the
Crackling through the
Cool despite the
Abusing the
Lunar as the
Space between the
Fucked beyond the
Eddie as the head that wears us out

I'm so black quarterback

Heady baby, Eddie's crazy
Cadabra, abrogate need
To blut bank on absolutely

[Bridge]
You call this speeding
Turn the door off we're leaving
Meet you in our next fetus
Romulus and Remus

Black quarterback
Black quarterback in all black
Black quarterback
Black quarterback in all black

>>	Anonymous Mon Jul 27 06:55:21 2015 No.6886502 >>6882520 Housman is wonderful but I hate when he says "lad"

Advanced search
Text to find
Subject [?]Search by post subject. Leave empty for any.
Username [?]Search for user name. Leave empty for any user name.
Tripcode [?]Search for tripcode. Leave empty for any.
Email [?]Search by email. Leave empty for any.
Filename [?]Search by image filename. Leave empty for any.
From Date [?]Enter what date to start searching from. Format is YYYY-MM-DD
To Date [?]Enter what date to start searching until. Format is YYYY-MM-DD
Image hash
Search in	All Posts OPs Only
Deleted posts	Show all posts Show only deleted posts Only show non-deleted posts
Internal posts	Show all posts Show only internal posts Show only archived posts
Order	New posts first Old posts first
Capcode	All Posts Only by Users Only by Mods Only by Admins Only by Developers
Results	Posts Threads
Action	[ Simple ]

/lit/ - Literature