Happy National Poetry Day!

Happy poetry day!

Now write a poem about your favorite poet. :)

A Sonnet For Shakespeare

Respect is yours from all who understand,
And daffodils still thrive upon your words,
But as I read, I lose all sight of land
As jealousy leaves all my dreams interred.
With ev'ry line of poetry and prose,
You fanned the flames of passion in our hearts;
And down the years your inspiration grows,
Despite the fact our words are worlds apart.
With sonnets and with plays you plied your trade,
And seemed to pluck the lines from paradise;
With shame, I know, I cannot make the grade
But do my best to forge the perfect splice.
When genius is smeared with jealousy,
I write a sonnet in your memory.

--

Happy Poetry Day!

Ben, great poem there! (:

Happy poetry day

Robert Frost is my favorite poet, and
through rhyming, I'd like to show it,
but I'd rather skip the risk to blow it.

Yeah. I haven't written a rhyming poem in ages and I don't feel I can write a free verse poem that would do Frost justice. He will always be my favorite poet. I don't know what it is :)

Happy National Poetry Day to you too, Britt. And also to the rest of you!

I CELEBRATE Walt Whitman, and sing his self,
And what he assumes I shall assume,
For every atom belonging to him as good belongs to us.

OKAY, not really a new poem, just changed the person on the opening to Song of Myself, but he's still my favorite.

Ben wins! ;)

I don't know who my favorite poet is, isn't that weird?

Britt,

Not at all.

I like Dante, Pablo Neruda, Charles B, Elizabeth Bishop, Homer, Virgil, Robert Frost, Shakespeare, Alan Edgar Poe, Ddavidd, and the list goes on....

I don't have a favorite poet

Edit:

But so far, this is the closest poem that I have written to someone or at least that I remember

Title: I can't write it like Ben did (sonnet)

Because Ben wrote a sonnet like a pro,
I have no option but to write one too.
So here with pen on hand like Edgar Poe,
I'll write a piece about a bugaboo,
or at the very least, about a ghost.
I only hope that when you start to read
and when you reach the ending of this post
that you, my darling friends, won't end up dead.
Though if that possibility exists,
And if a soul could die from reading this
I guess for my own's sake I won't insist
as my conscience would kill from me my bliss

So no, I can't write a piece like Poe did
And no, I can't write a piece like Ben did

Pablo Neruda is probably my second favorite poet.

Britt, I think I deserved to win, but it's cool, whatever. Congrats, Ben.

:P

Congrats Ben.

Jane, what do you like about Pablo Neruda?

Great question. I think he's what all free verse poets aspire to be like. Not one superfluous word, expertly plotted line breaks, colorful imagery, and the ability to capture messy, beautiful human emotions. I have to be patient to enjoy lots of poetry. Not with Neruda's poetry. It's affecting and effortless. What do you think? Why do you like his poems?

As for Robert Frost, I have an affinity for nature and animals - the beauty in their wildness - and I admire those who are able to romanticize them without making it too "frilly" or supernatural. As Neruda makes free verse seem effortless, Frost makes rhyming seem effortless and like the most natural thing in the world (perhaps an even harder task). He also can draw out my nostalgic, sentimental side.

How can anyone read this and not drift off in their own somber reverie?

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Robert Frost

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.

----

I've read this dozens of times and still get shivers rereading it. There is nothing pretentious about Robert Frost. He is to poetry as Jack London is to story-telling.

I like Pablo's Neruda poems because ... actually, I have no clue. I enjoy reading some of his Spanish versions. I like his voice. It's like his voice enwraps the poet in me and I feel like a gift ready to be opened by someone (as strange as that may sound.)

As far as Robert frost, I like how simple yet full with talent his poetry is. I don't get bored of reading that poem. The rhyme after reading them many times doesn't annoy me.

Speaking of pretentioness:

Would you considered Charles Bubouski (I forgot how his name is spelt) pretentious? I like a few of his poems. While I don't considered him pretentious, there's many people specially poets who do. I wonder why is that?

I will have to look him up and get back to you :)

Thanks

Here is a poem by Charles B. that I like:

So you want to be a writer?
Charles Bukowski, 1920 - 1994

if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.

if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

Happy poetry day guys.

Jane - Robert Frost is my fave too
The road not taken is my all time fave and I did a piece inspired by that
http://www.poems-and-quotes.com/life/poems.php?id=1250132