Everyone else's less wonderful poetry thread

luka

Well-known member
Certainly there are dangers in the dark wood, many get lost, succumb to panic, die, eaten alive but doesn't that warning serve to goad us deeper in?
 

poetix

we murder to dissect
I think of the poem as an opportunity to entertain some mixed feelings about the matter. Urbane foxes versus grey wolves? It's an asymmetric contest. Further investigation required.
 

luka

Well-known member
I think of the poem as an opportunity to entertain some mixed feelings about the matter. Urbane foxes versus grey wolves? It's an asymmetric contest. Further investigation required.

It's the right medium to do it in
 

luka

Well-known member
Because it allows the wolves to have their say in a way another format wouldn't. What are those forces? And to what extent do we have control over them? Shut them out, let them in etc
 

luka

Well-known member
What is enchantment? And what relationship does it have with poetry? What is the deep undertow of myth? How does it operate through language?
 

luka

Well-known member
These are ongoing arguments aren't they- should a poem be a spell? Or should it be the unweaving of a spell? How do the jibbering spirits rush in and fill out the costumes the poems provide for them? So it comes to life, living puppets on the stage of the poem
 

luka

Well-known member
I don't mean to be critical at all by the way, obviously it's a given that your stuff will be well/carefully written and so on. I just feel like we might as well discuss it if we're going to share it. Hope it doesn't come across as hostile or overly territorial.
 

poetix

we murder to dissect
It might be (I don't know, I haven't got it figured out) that the underlying anxiety is about ideology, for want of a better word - what happens when spells becoming binding, when the enchanted vision replaces all other possibilities of seeing. I'm not opposed, or immune, to enchantment. I'm very suspicious of schemes that offer to spread the same enchantment over (or under) everything, as a remedy for our supposedly having lost the capacity for enchantment thanks to modernity, or technoscience, or capitalism drowning all the old heroic things in the icy waters of calculation. Most such remedies seem to me to offer what Derrida somewhere called a botched, shameful restoration. There's a performative aspect - I'd like to show, by doing, that a "modern(ist)" perspective can still be playful, ticklish, imaginatively capable. That the foxes are as beautiful as the wolves, although perhaps I haven't succeeded here in making the case for that.
 

sadmanbarty

Well-known member
Abandoned Motorbike by Sadman Barty

autistic formations, clinical and chlorinated
enveloped by pristine weaving leaves
embarked upon under wilted nestling trees
momentary fleeting dreams
 

entertainment

Well-known member
this one came about during a nice walk but i never really feel like it got better than that first line

it's called "tracking mist"

I’m tracking mist
at the flight of my heels
activating out of sight

I’m tracking hidden isotopes
fumes of Atlantis,
crackling lunar voice in the gutter
trying to catch a glimpse
of bronze ripple up the streets
pierce through watching fisheyed

I’m sorting through statistical noise
auscultating deep dive the opaque layers
fold as so recursive, recognize the rhythm

I’m coming back alive
soul throb cracks in the concrete,
here a ghost flew in, brushed the eyelid
so much for the heads up
 

luka

Well-known member
Jim's poetry blog. i would say Jim is in the top 5 poets working in England today.
 

sufi

lala
The Names of the Hare
Translation from the Middle English


The man the hare has met
will never be the better of it
except he lay down on the land
what he carries in his hand—
be it staff or be it bow—
and bless him with his elbow
and come out with this litany
with devotion and sincerity
to speak the praises of the hare.
Then the man will better fare.

‘The hare, call him scotart,
big-fellow, bouchart,
the O’Hare, the jumper,
the rascal, the racer.

Beat-the-pad, white-face,
funk-the-ditch, shit-ass.

The wimount, the messer,
the skidaddler, the nibbler,
the ill-met, the slabber.

The quick-scut, the dew-flirt,
the grass-biter, the goibert,
the home-late, the do-the-dirt.

The starer, the wood-cat,
the purblind, the furze cat,
the skulker, the bleary-eyed,
the wall-eyed, the glance-aside
and also the hedge-springer.

The stubble-stag, the long lugs,
the stook-deer, the frisky legs,
the wild one, the skipper,
the hug-the-ground, the lurker,
the race-the-wind, the skiver,
the shag-the-hare, the hedge-squatter,
the dew-hammer, the dew-hoppper,
the sit-tight, the grass-bounder,
the jig-foot, the earth-sitter,
the light-foot, the fern-sitter,
the kail-stag, the herb-cropper.

The creep-along, the sitter-still,
the pintail, the ring-the-hill,
the sudden start,
the shake-the-heart,
the belly-white,
the lambs-in-flight.

The gobshite, the gum-sucker,
the scare-the-man, the faith-breaker,
the snuff-the-ground, the baldy skull,
(his chief name is scoundrel.)

The stag sprouting a suede horn,
the creature living in the corn,
The Names of the Hare
Translation from the Middle English

the creature bearing all men’s scorn,
the creature no one dares to name.’

When you have got all this said
then the hare’s strength has been laid.
Then you might go faring forth—
east and west and south and north,
wherever you incline to go—
but only if you’re skilful too.
And now, Sir Hare, good-day to you.
God guide you to a how-d’ye-do
with me: come to me dead
in either onion broth or bread.
 

luka

Well-known member
only in-form poet in the world today, Jim's new one

 
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