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    .

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    Last edited by nauvice; May 31st, 2011 at 09:11 PM.


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    'Aloft, in the loft, sits Croft, he is soft' - Stevie Smith

    That's the only poem I can bring to mind so by default it's my favourite. And, happily, easy to interpret.

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    I don't interpret them, I just read them.

    (Then again, I prefer the older story-telling poems where the "message" is right up front and not obfuscated and deliberately oblique...) (Or totally frivolous poems. Ogden Nash FTW!)

    (Plus a smattering of surrealist poets, but those don't have a "message" anyway.)

    I don't bother with messages, if I'm reading poetry of the less straightforward variety, it's because I like the random images it conjures up, and sometimes I get ideas for pictures from it... For that sort of thing I think I like Breton, Eluard, Rimbaud, and Baudelaire best. (Ha - pretentiousness alert! Nah, I just like the pretty pictures they write.)

    For storytelling in verse, my favorites are probably Spencer, Ariosto, Dante, Byron, and Browning. For nasty satire, Pope, Marston maybe... and Byron again.

    For frivolity, Ogden Nash and Dorothy Parker, hands down.

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    In the future, everyone will have 15 minutes of privacy.

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    My opinion:

    If you can feel the meaning of a poem without quite being able to articulate it, you already understand the poem. To analyze what you already understand in your heart is reductive and counter productive, unless you plan on being a poet yourself.

    Annabel Lee by Poe, for example, is a poem that requires no analysis.

    I have no use for poetry that requires too much esoteric, intellectual-tribal reference. That stuff seems to be part of a cult of "impress your erudite friends" intellectualism that makes for deadly dull art... it asks infinite indulgence from people who, otherwise, have lives to lead. That such poetry turns off the average person, will only serve to delight the taxonomic scholar that feels an overwhelming need to feel like a special snowflake in his scribbling solitude.
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    Hi kev, knew you'd chime in on this one...

    Though actually I agree with you pretty much 100% this time. Can't find anything to quibble about.

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    Quote Originally Posted by zwarrior View Post
    I've always been terrible at reading poems, but it's a fault I which to improve. The hardest thing for me is understanding the underlying message of a poem. Anyone have an idea of how poems should be properly approached and what are your favorite poems??
    What/Whose poems are you reading? Like Kev said, not all poems need analysis.

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    This may be vague, but I analyse poems same way I go about analysing artwork.

    colors, pictorial language, position, political agenda, sender, receiver, wording, genre, subject, repetition and so on.

    Is this for school or something?
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    Quote Originally Posted by Orunitier View Post
    What/Whose poems are you reading? Like Kev said, not all poems need analysis.
    Edgar Allan Poe is, I don't know if that's the right word, but "easy" compared to other poems. For his, I don't have a hard time understanding. But I'd say for a lot of poems, The way they're written, to me, makes it hard to understand:

    Mud Master

    The Muddy rivers of spring
    Are snarling
    Under muddy skies
    The mind is muddy

    As yet, for the mind, new banks
    Of bulging green
    Are not;
    Sky-sides of gold
    Are not.

    Blackest of pickanines,
    There is a master of mud.
    The shaft of light
    Falling, far off, from sky to land,
    That is he-

    The peach-bud maker,
    The mud master,
    The master of the mind
    Either I'm thinking too hard or the entire thing seems metaphorical. What I tried to get out of it was the reference of being in a cynical state of mind (??)

    There are a lot of references/analogies ("like a [...]" x100), big words and metaphors in poems that make it really hard to understand what the author is saying. I mean I don't want them to talk down to their audience, but at the same time their audience seems limited to those who already know or can relate to what they are talking about.

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    Quote Originally Posted by Incinerated View Post
    This may be vague, but I analyse poems same way I go about analysing artwork.

    colors, pictorial language, position, political agenda, sender, receiver, wording, genre, subject, repetition and so on.

    Is this for school or something?
    Indirectly yes. Its not a homework assignment to ask a public their opinion or anything, but I am going to have to read and write about poems in the future, which I worry about because I'm not very good at reading them.

    Its funny you related artwork with poems, because that's a similar issue my teacher talked about. He said before poets and artists were akin, and many poets in the past used to write poems based on a painting, and were also critiquing artwork. But today there's a division and they aren't so much related anymore.

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    Quote Originally Posted by squidmonk3j View Post
    Im gonna have to watch this movie asap

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    Quote Originally Posted by QueenGwenevere View Post
    I don't interpret them, I just read them.

    For that sort of thing I think I like Breton, Eluard, Rimbaud, and Baudelaire best. (Ha - pretentiousness alert! Nah, I just like the pretty pictures they write.)

    For storytelling in verse, my favorites are probably Spencer, Ariosto, Dante, Byron, and Browning. For nasty satire, Pope, Marston maybe... and Byron again.

    .
    Breton, Rimbaud, Spencer, and Byron ... that's where the good stuff's at

    OPPoetry, like art, becomes more abstract in the 20th cent., and such poems like the one you quoted are, by nature, open to interpretation, so don't feel bad if you can't pin down a single one "right" interpretation. In fact, 20th cent poetry often has no specific meaning, just as abstract art is not always about representing something.

    One poet who really confuses me (though I love her) is Emily Dickinson. Her poems basically read like riddles.

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    I prefer [pause] to read the neo-classics [pause} when it comes to poetry.

    GhostFace killa, of the famed Wu-tang clan has a sense for the imagery that's QUITE fascinating, and his usage of verbs is SIMPLE MAH-VUL-US!

    The there are the TRUE genius classics of, Rakim. A true mawster of the phonetic ebonic...vernacular that simple puts Rimbaud to shame IDARESAY!
    "Everything must serve the idea. The means used to convey the idea should be the simplest and clear. Just what is required. No extra images. To me this is a universal principle of art. Saying as much as possible with a minimum of means."
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    Mud Master

    The Muddy rivers of spring
    Are snarling
    Under muddy skies
    The mind is muddy

    As yet, for the mind, new banks
    Of bulging green
    Are not;
    Sky-sides of gold
    Are not.

    Blackest of pickanines,
    There is a master of mud.
    The shaft of light
    Falling, far off, from sky to land,
    That is he-

    The peach-bud maker,
    The mud master,
    The master of the mind
    That racist fuckwad...

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    I don't like to decipher and i could not care less about hidden meanings, especially when it is about hundreds of years old events.
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    The whole idea of poetic art is that the idea is transmitted sensually.

    All language is metaphoric, just that most of what is said is dead metaphors, whose meanings have lost their emotional force through too much repetition or linguistic corruption. Good poetry renews the sensual force by expressing its sentiments in fresh, evocative language.

    When you read a poem, you need to have the images in your head as you read in order to understand the poem. It isn't letters and words that are being communicated, but images, images which will explain the meaning of the poem to you, if the poem is a good'un.

    The mud master seems to be about the human dependency on the land for not just physical sustenance but also mental sustenance... Nature as deity with dominion over all. The author is associating himself with the land, saying the muddiness or liveliness of the land makes his own thoughts muddy or lively; may in fact be the origin of the author's thoughts. Deity/Nature/Mud Master, is the one who, by rays of light dropped from above, brings forth fresh notes of intellectual clarity (represented by peach buds) out of the muddiness of human existence on earth. If nature does not produce buds (everything flowering and growing green anew, young and beautiful), what is there to think about? Without budding life, there would only be the desolation of the mud in which we all would sink in a state of torpid depression.

    That explain it a little?

    (It should be noted that it is clearly more entertaining to read the poem than my explanation of "what it means." This is because the poem already means what it says. The feeling you get from reading it is part of its content. I have turned it into an intellectual taxonomic exegesis for sake of surfacing all the metaphors... dull dull dull! By explaining it, I kill it. A poem is meant to be read. A good poem will be understood by your unconscious mind, even if your text-based consciousness isn't in on the joke. Just ignore your consciousness. He's always made nervous by art.)
    Last edited by kev ferrara; September 17th, 2010 at 12:30 PM.
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    Quote Originally Posted by R a n d i s View Post
    I don't like to decipher and i could not care less about hidden meanings, especially when it is about hundreds of years old events.
    So mood and emotion in art isn't something you find particularly interesting, then?
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    i said i don't enjoy cryptic poems.

    i don't like reading some essay that is 12 times longer than the actual poem just to understand some hidden code that had a meaning 200 years ago, it's harder than guessing the facial expression of Steven Segal.

    I like haiku
    Last edited by Randis; September 17th, 2010 at 03:23 PM.
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    I think the first poet I read that made me realise poetry could be alot more than the image I had in mind from high-school English classes was Gay Snyder.

    I think he's one of the great "American" poets (at least of the West) in that his poems have always dealt with nature, the American landscape and our connection to it through spirituality and work. His poetic structure is influenced by Chinese classical poetry, which was a nice change from the rhyming schemes of a pretty typical high school english education. I still have horrible flashbacks whenever I read a poem that rhymes gratuitously.

    From "Myths and Texts"

    Sourdough Mountain called a fire in:
    Up Thunder Creek, high on a ridge.
    Hiked eighteen hours, finally found
    A snag and a hundred feet around on fire:
    All afternoon and into the night
    Digging the fire line
    Falling the burning snag
    It fanned sparks down like shooting stars
    Over the dry woods, starting spot-fires
    Flaring in wind up Skagit Valley
    From the Sound
    Toward morning it rained,
    We slept in mud and ashes
    Woke at dawn, the fire was out,
    The sky was clear, we saw
    The last glimmer of the morning star.

    the myth:

    Fire up Thunder Creek and the mountain--
    troy's burning!
    The cloud mutters
    The mountains are your mind.
    The woods bristle there,
    Dogs barking and children shrieking
    Rise from below.

    Rain falls for centuries
    Soaking the loose rocks in space
    Sweet rain, the fire's out
    The black snag glistens in the rain
    & the last wisp of smoke floats up
    Into the absolute cold
    Into the spiral whorls of fire
    The storms of the Milky Way
    "Buddha incense in an empty world"
    Black pit cold and light-year
    Flame tongue of the dragon
    Licks the sun

    The sun is but a morning star"

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    Quote Originally Posted by Orunitier View Post
    That racist fuckwad...
    you think here's referring to a group of people in a derogatory way? way off from what I got out of it why do u think so?

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    I don't read poetry as much as I should as it can always move me if done well.

    The Prisoner of Chillon - Byron (too long to post). I've always loved the last stanza.

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    Cool

    [Verse Two: Ghostface Killah]
    More than a thousand times one, snatch up my styles get done
    I hold a title, enhanced how my belt was won, check it
    Slick majestic, broke mics are left infected
    Germs start to spread through your crew, drew like an epic
    You asked for it, shot up the jams like syringes
    My technique alone blows doors straight off the hinges
    Masked Avenger, I appear to blow your ear like wind
    With a freestyle, sharper than the Indian spear
    So sit back and let the king explore
    Describe me, the kid's nice and he holds swords
    And his name, black attack's the nerve like migraines
    With more games than beggars on trains, livid sharp pains
    Poisonous Rebel like Deck, you can't destroy this
    You get ambushed, skate, try to avoid this
    Side effects of, hot raps and hot tracks
    A duffle bag full of guns son, dipped in black
    My culture, glides and attacks just like a vulture
    Ghostface in Madison Square is on your poster


    [Rakim]
    Planet, Earth, was my place of birth
    Born to be the soul controller of the universe
    Besides the part of the map I hit first
    Any environment I can adapt when it gets worst
    The rough gets goin, the goin gets rough
    When I start flowin, the mic might bust
    The next state I shake from the power I generate
    People in Cali used to think it was earthquakes
    Cause times was hard on the Boulevard
    So I vote God and never get scarred and gauled
    But it seems like I'm locked in hell
    Lookin over the edge but the R never fell
    A trip to slip cause my Nikes got grip
    Stand on my own two feet and come equipped
    Any stage I'm seen on, or mic I fiend on
    I stand alone and need nothin to lean on
    Going for self with a long way to go
    So much to say but I still flow slow
    I come correct and I won't look back
    Cause it ain't where you're from, it's where you're at
    Even the (ghetto)

    [Rakim]
    I learn to relax in my room and escape from New York
    And return through the womb of the world as a thought
    Thinkin how hard it was to be born
    Me bein cream with no physical form
    Millions of cells with one destination
    to reach the best part as life's creation
    Nine months later, a job well done
    Make way, cause here I come
    Since I made it this far I can't stop now
    There's a will and a way and I got the know-how
    To be, all I can be and more
    And see, all there is to see before
    I'm called to go back to the essence
    It's a lot to learn so I study, my lessons
    I thought the ghetto was the worst that could happen to me
    I'm glad I listened when my father was rappin to me
    Cause back in the days, they lived in caves
    Exiled from the original man, they strayed away
    Now that's what I call hard times
    I'd rather be here to exercise the mind
    Then I take a thought around the world twice
    From knowledge to born back to knowledge precise
    Across the desert, that's hot as the Arabian
    But they couldn't cave me in, cause I'm the Asian
    Reachin for the city of Mecca, visit Medina
    Visions of Nefertiti, then I seen a
    mind keeps traveling, I'll be back after
    I stop and think about the brothers and sisters in Africa
    Return the thought through the eye of a needle
    For miles I thought and I just brought the people
    Under the dark skies, on a dark side
    Not only there, but right here's an apartheid
    So now is the time for us to react
    Take a trip through the mind and when you get back
    Understand your third eye seen all of that
    It ain't where you're from, it's where you're at
    Even the (ghetto)
    Even the (ghetto)

    [Rakim]
    No more props, I want property, in every borough
    Nobody's stoppin me, because I'm thorough
    Rhymes I make gimme real estate for me to own
    Wherever I bless a microphone
    Double-oh-seven is back and relaxin
    On point and reactin, and ready for action
    I'm so low key that you might not see me
    Incognito, and takin it easy (ghetto)
    Quiet as kept on a hush hush
    In front of a crowd, I get loud, there's a bumrush
    Be calm, keep a low pro and play the background
    Hopin the whack rapper put the mic back down
    So rip it, break it in half, go 'head and slam it
    Cause when it's time to build I'm a mechanic
    of bondin and mendin, attachin and blendin
    So many solos, there is no endin
    People in my neighborhood, they know I'm good
    From London to Hollywood, wherever I stood
    Footprints remain on stage ever since
    Sidewalks and streets, I leave fossils and dents
    When I had sex, I left my name on necks
    My trademark was left throughout the projects
    I used to get rich when I played c-lo
    When I rolled 4, 5, 6, they go, "We know"
    So I collect my cash then slide
    I've got my back, my gun's on my side
    It shouldn't have to be like that
    I guess it ain't where you're from, it's where you're at
    Even the (ghetto)
    I'm from the (ghetto)
    Worrrd up
    Peace

    "Everything must serve the idea. The means used to convey the idea should be the simplest and clear. Just what is required. No extra images. To me this is a universal principle of art. Saying as much as possible with a minimum of means."
    -John Huston, Director

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    -Form: The way it is written, its style, its genre
    -Mood: The way it makes one feel
    -Context: When it was originally written, the political and social climate, what's happening to the author personally
    -Author: Who they were, why they wrote, comparisons to previous works if any
    -The Point: The idea(s) behind the piece, the message of the poem, what they were trying to get across

    Pretty much the way you would decipher a painting.
    "Astronomy offers an aesthetic indulgence not duplicated in any other field. This is not an academic or hypothetical attraction and should require no apologies, for the beauty to be found in the skies has been universally appreciated for unrecorded centuries."

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    Quote Originally Posted by kev ferrara View Post
    My opinion:

    If you can feel the meaning of a poem without quite being able to articulate it, you already understand the poem. To analyze what you already understand in your heart is reductive and counter productive, unless you plan on being a poet yourself.

    Annabel Lee by Poe, for example, is a poem that requires no analysis.

    I have no use for poetry that requires too much esoteric, intellectual-tribal reference. That stuff seems to be part of a cult of "impress your erudite friends" intellectualism that makes for deadly dull art... it asks infinite indulgence from people who, otherwise, have lives to lead. That such poetry turns off the average person, will only serve to delight the taxonomic scholar that feels an overwhelming need to feel like a special snowflake in his scribbling solitude.
    There is quite a bit of poetry that makes references that to things that were common knowledge when the poem was written, but are now pretty obscure. As such, you have poetry that isn't deliberately esoteric, but still takes some research to fully understand.

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    Quote Originally Posted by zwarrior View Post
    you think here's referring to a group of people in a derogatory way? way off from what I got out of it why do u think so?
    I was kidding, sort of.
    That was just a knee jerk reaction to the line "blackest of pickanines", which is kinda racist. But, Wallace Stevens was born in 1879, so that's the vernacular of the times.

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    Quote Originally Posted by Kev Ferrara
    To analyze what you already understand in your heart is reductive and counter productive, unless you plan on being a poet yourself.
    Almost true, the same goes for painting as well, there are so many people who look at paintings and confess that they done understand anything, and one tells them that its not the need to analyze thats important, understanding something and explainly something verbally is very overrated, even though right now thats what I am trying to do .

    Analysis can easily take away a quiet charm of just enjoying the view. Its like looking at the clouds and not talking whats the reason for their current formation or is it going to rain, but just enjoythe near seamles forms.

    Quote Originally Posted by Buckweisel
    -Form: The way it is written, its style, its genre
    -Mood: The way it makes one feel
    -Context: When it was originally written, the political and social climate, what's happening to the author personally
    -Author: Who they were, why they wrote, comparisons to previous works if any
    -The Point: The idea(s) behind the piece, the message of the poem, what they were trying to get across

    Pretty much the way you would decipher a painting.
    But if you are really get down to do it, this sounds like a very good way.

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    Quote Originally Posted by Orunitier View Post
    I was kidding, sort of.
    That was just a knee jerk reaction to the line "blackest of pickanines", which is kinda racist. But, Wallace Stevens was born in 1879, so that's the vernacular of the times.
    ooo, now that I googled the word I see, lol. yeah like u said it was in the past, I think its separate from today's morals.

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    As we're speaking of poetry and stuff that had a meaning 200 years ago, I find this a suitable context for adressing a superbly irrelevant point.

    Kev Ferrara, the part of your signature that reads
    "At least Icarus tried!"

    ...for some reason, every time I see this line of text, I simply cannot help but internally voice it in an annoyingly emo teen voice. To me, Icarus is a symbol of stupidity, arrogance and wasted opportunities. Admiring Daedalus, I can understand. But Icaros? Good riddance, I say. Im my opinion, Bruegel summed it up perfectly:

    .

    No great loss, and the world keeps turning.

    ...and just to round it up with a quote from Bill Hicks: "He's an idiot. He's dead. Good! We lost a moron? Fucking celebrate. There's one less moron in the world."

    Ahem. Well, I'm glad that's off mah chest
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  39. #29
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    Squidiculus,

    Meaning is not what is important in a billion years, when all is dust and inertia, proven vain after all. Meaning is what you find meaningful now. Those who try, make meaning by their acts. They engineer the beautiful, they imagine the impossible, they inspire those around them. Every creative, productive person in the world has a little bit of Icarus in them, in good ways and bad. For to have passion for creation is to take risks, and with risk, stakes rise and the sun nears. I admire Icaruses because at least they are getting off their arses and trying to do something with their lives, meanwhile, blessedly, expanding the myopic consciousnesses of those around them.

    I have no idea why you use emo voices in your head to read my sig, but hey ... whatever toots your flute.
    At least Icarus tried!


    My Process: Dead Rider Graphic Novel (Dark Horse Comics) plus oil paintings, pencils and other goodies:
    http://www.conceptart.org/forums/sho...d.php?t=101106

    My "Smilechild" Music. Plus a medley of Commercial Music Cues and a Folksy Jingle!:
    http://www.myspace.com/kevferrara

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  41. #30
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    zwarrior, the best and easiest way to "get" a poem is to read it out loud. Listen to how your voice sounds when you say it out loud. Then read it again and try to add some drama to it. Tape yourself if necessary. Then try to analyse it.

    Poems are an auditory experience; you really need to hear them.

    Then analyse the way the language and the rythm of the speech work, and what they say to you. What images do they call up? What images or words are stressed? How does that work?

    Just give an honest reaction to the effect the poem has on you, and why you think that happens,- the same way you would to a painting. It's nothing to be afraid or nervous of...

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