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Recommend me some poets

 
  

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ginger
13:51 / 08.12.06
because he's criminally ignored. i mean, i think he's read, but only by People Who Read Poetry. his plays're worth reading, too; collected as 'the view from row g'. i've developed a tendency to be really boring at people at parties about this'un.

he's also quite good at chess, by all accounts.

there's still time for us to get him the nobel berfore he dies, folks...
 
 
JohnnyDark
23:42 / 08.12.06
buttergun - logue's iliad.. yes!

Sometimes
Before the gods appear
Something is marked:
A noise. A note, perhaps. Perhaps
A change of temperature. Or else, as now,
The scent of oceanic lavender,
That even as it drew his mind
Drew from the seal-coloured sea onto the beach
A mist that moved like weed, then stood, then turned
Into his mother, Thetis', mother lovelost face,
Her fingers, next, that lift his chin, that push
His long, redcurrant-coloured hair
Back from his face, her voice, her words:

'Why tears, Achilles?
Rest in my arms and answer from your heart.'

The sea, quiet as light


BTW, did you ever hear the Beeb's version of 'War Music', performed by Alan Howard? Shit hot. I'd love to know if it's gettable anywhere...
 
 
calgodot
06:18 / 09.12.06
Ted Kooser is someone recently recommended by one of my former teachers. I'm enjoying his work. His Poetry Home Repair Manual is one of the best books on writing poetry.

An all-time favorite of mine: If you haven't ever read Ted Hughes, check out his early work, especially Crow and The Hawk in the Rain.

I'm also very partial to the "Outlaw Poets." Jack Micheline was one of my favorite contemporaries. Alan Kaufman is fantastic.

Last year I rediscovered some of the Imagists, who were overshadowed by the Modernist explosion as represented by Eliot and Pound and Co. Stevie Smith is a delight to read.
 
 
ginger
18:15 / 09.12.06
penguin do, or at least did, a very good imagist anthology, well worht hunting it down as a way in.
 
 
All Acting Regiment
12:54 / 10.12.06
Yes. I've got it. It also has manifestoes which are good.
 
 
StarWhisper
18:06 / 13.12.06
Sharon Olds, most of the time.

Poetry Foundation
 
 
alas
21:14 / 14.12.06
ah--please may I add my own whacks to the beating of this dead horse? (I like it because it is bitter, and because it is, actually, the dead horse I rode in on.)

some american universities seem to have a decidedly touchy-feely approach, where the students sit around and respond to things in a hugely subjective and ill-informed way, with the most 'moved' responses getting the highest marks.

I'm not sure where this impression is coming from, ginger--maybe you had a bad course?--but my impression, from teaching 20 years in a variety of American institutions, regulalry teaching poetry in my classes, and working with probably a hundred or more poetry teachers who have studied at many institutions, is that this is not accurate as a generalization of American univesity poetry classes.

It is, from my point of view, more often what students sometimes think is what's going to go on in a poetry course ("there won't be much reading and we can just come in and talk about whatever we want and nothing we say will ever be 'wrong'"). But very rarely is this the approach that teachers take, and those students are disappointed.

Virtually no American students actually read poetry outside of the occasional course requirement--although many claim to write it. So they'll come to a poetry reading course, and claim that a poem can mean absolutely anything, because we all read differently. So if it says "Rain" and I happen to think about a jackhammer at that moment, then well, to me, the poem's discussing a jackhammer. More likely, death--(the sort of "well, when in doubt,..."). Or, particularly, if it's by a female poet, it's probably surely about insanity. More specifically, "Diving into the Wreck"--"well I think it's about going into an insane asylum," I was told. I've been told this about many poems.

The second wrong idea that people who don't really read poetry is roughly akin to what seamus was arguing. That it's almost a foreign language, and you can't possibly understand what it means by treating poetry like, well, language, and assuming that it is working with (or playing with) any of the rules of "normal" language--grammar, etc. You cannot assuming that a poet is, as Wordsworth should have said, a person speaking intimately to other people.

The job, these readers feel, is to discover a poem's "deep hidden meanings" by a kind of rigid analysis that's supposed to excavate out those meanings, but ultimately, usually misses the point. "What Eliot is trying to say," they'll tell me. Eliot, of course, having failed miserably, obviously... These readers feel stupid in front of poems, and I don't totally blame them.

Yes, poetry is highly structured and it repays, often requires, slow reading, and re-reading, but it is first and foremost language, working with and playing with--sometimes against--basically the same rules that "normal" language uses. They're written for an audience, they're written to communicate and maybe transport readers and or listeners. That's, to me, the place to start. Then, it is important to realize that much poetry is about play, playing in language. Even when it's also about big serious topics, lurking around the edges. ...

Here's one of my favorites on this theme of reading...

Introduction to Poetry

Billy Collins

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.


from The Apple that Astonished Paris, 1996
University of Arkansas Press, Fayetteville, Ark.


Billie Collins is always better than I expect him to be. I really didn't want to like him, but I do.
 
 
ginger
02:23 / 15.12.06
the poor horsie. can we call it snowdrop?

by way of some arse-covering, note my usage of ‘some’; i’d hate to seem to tar all US universities with the same brush. the impression comes from spending a large proportion of my own life bringing american students into line with the slightly less celebratory british approach when they cross the pond on visiting student programs and end up under my tender tutelage in a certain english university.

whilst it’s entirely fair to say that i’ve never taken an american-style course myself, my knowledge of them’s based on what american students tell me, the work that they produce as a result of applying methods they’ve apparently picked up back in the states, and the course descriptions we’re sent by their institutions. bearing in mind that these’re good students with glowing write-ups from their colleges back home, i’m assuming they’re not just total retards who’ve completely misunderstood their courses. one of the ivy-league places that sends us visiting students appears to have a professor who teaches ‘the waste land’ by insisting that his students ignore any lines in a language they don’t understand, which seems a tad eccentric. frankly, regardless of what’s actually happening, if the student body still consistently believes that that’s what’s being taught by the end of the third year, there’s something seriously wacky going on somewhere.

that said, don’t get me wrong; i seem to have given you the wrong impression as to what they’re producing in terms of work. they’re not turning out completely uncritical ‘it means what i say it means’ essays, but there’s often a whacking great element of slightly adolescent self-examination, conducted through readings of whoever. that’s a fine private and personal response to a poem, and some might say the real point of reading it, but it’s a bit boring when you’re sitting in a tute with some poor little bastard telling you he’s broken up with his One True Love through the medium of a heavily-spun readings of ‘howl’.

as ever, apologies for any snarkiness, really not intended, but it’s 0415 and i’ve been interviewing hopeful teenagers all week, a process akin to stamping repeatedly on the upturned faces of puppies whilst telling them that you love them and it’s for their own good. the hose-beating bit in the billie collins gave me flashbacks.

back on the topic-pony, i’ve been reading harold pinter’s poetry all week, and can report that it’s complete and utter pish. save yourselves.
 
 
Whisky Priestess
15:35 / 15.12.06
Ew, flashback to the terrible poems about The War In Iraq he keeps disgracing the IndySunday with. Pinter is Motion's only true rival for rubbishness in the poetry stakes, IMHO.

I honestly wish that writers (even Nobel laureates) would just stick to what they're good at.

Has anyone mentioned Cavafy yet? I think I saw the name, but if not, here's another:

The god forsakes Antony

When suddenly, at the midnight hour,
an invisible troupe is heard passing
with exquisite music, with shouts --
your fortune that fails you now, your works
that have failed, the plans of your life
that have all turned out to be illusions, do not mourn in vain.
As if long prepared, as if courageous,
bid her farewell, the Alexandria that is leaving.
Above all do not be fooled, do not tell yourself
it was a dream, that your ears deceived you;
do not stoop to such vain hopes.
As if long prepared, as if courageous,
as it becomes you who have been worthy of such a city,
approach the window with firm step,
and with emotion, but not
with the entreaties and complaints of the coward,
as a last enjoyment listen to the sounds,
the exquisite instruments of the mystical troupe,
and bid her farewell, the Alexandria you are losing.

Constantine P. Cavafy (1911)

More Cavafy goodness
 
 
Kit-Cat Club
18:29 / 15.12.06
There was a cracking Pinter parody in Private Eye a while ago - last year I think; it was Craig Brown's Pinter does nursery rhymes:

'The owl and the pussycat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat
They took some honey and plenty of money
Because they were sucking the shit from the arse of the poor.'

I can't remember any of the others but I actually laughed until I cried.
 
 
ginger
20:50 / 15.12.06
whilst i strongly recommend you to spend the time stabbing yourself in the eyes with a biro instead...

pinter’s ‘shit’ poem.

as for sticking to what he's good at, as far as i can tell, that amounts to writing brown-nosed letters to beckett, grassing up directors who made minor cuts in to beckett texts in performance, before appearing in a film version of 'catastrophe' where the lighting of a cigar's replaced with someone turning on a torch, because harold refused to pretend to smoke.

at risk of introducing some really very dead, very white men, anglo-saxon poetry makes my trousers worried. read aloud in the original, it's utterly beautiful, and there're no end of translations around, including the slightly cacky pound 'seafarer' (discussed here), the heaney 'beowulf' and so on. the monumental bleakness of this stuff overcomes the often gritty, out-of-date translations you get in things like the faber 'choice of anglo-saxon verse'; if you've read tolkein, you'll recognise huge swathes of material. that faber book’s good because, though the translations’re vile, you get the original text in parallel.

whilst i’m exhuming dead english dudes, i’d argue for the renewed appreciation of john webster as a poet. though there’s inevitably a fair amount of functional journeyman stuff in his plays, he turns out some sexy little gems that just beg to be used as epigraphs to new works. i’m having the following from ‘the duchess of malfi’ V.3, so keep your dirty paws off:

But all things have their end:
Churches and cities, which have diseases like to men,
Must have like death that we have.
 
 
Shrug
23:50 / 18.12.06
Bump.

Gerard Manley Hopkins
Ezra Pound
T.S. Eliot
William Shakespeare


...who are all canon, but if you're like me, you think you know all about them but you don't, and when you read them properly it's a good thing...


Hmmm, so Gerard Manley Hopkins?

Gay 4 Jesus, or what?

But where do people stand on it? Do those poems concerned with the male body (The Barracks boy for one but my memory fails) as strewn with nature/creation/divinity analogy as Manley's poetry often is, work as an indication of barely repressed homosexuality or is this mere reverence of another natural being (and by consequence the divine)? St Paul-ine imagery: Christ, The Body, The Church etc?

I never really could make up my mind.
 
 
Whisky Priestess
15:24 / 19.12.06
I think it's quite a common thing for religiously inspired work, especially that concerning Christ (as opposed to Mary/God/the saints), to have an erotic element, especially the farther back you go. I remember being quite amused and slightly shocked as an undergrad when reading The Book of Margery Kempe by a passage where she's describing her love for Christ "as a husband" and going into fairly physical raptures ...

As for Pinter, love this quote from Billington about why the poem didn't initially see the light of day (although I recall reading it in a broadsheet or Sunday - surely not the Times? but one of them):

"that [the poem] was rejected [for publication], even by those who sympathised with its sentiments, offers melancholy proof that hypocrisy is not confined to governments and politicians".

... or that, you know ... it was a bit shit?
 
 
All Acting Regiment
16:07 / 19.12.06
Hmmm, so Gerard Manley Hopkins?

Gay 4 Jesus, or what?


I beleive that's called ambiguity, and is rather good.

I think Hopkins needs to be rediscovered for another reason as well: because, though the poems are incredibly formal and structured, no-one who reads them comes away thinking "that was boring, a bit like a metronome or clock". In fact you don't notice how formal and structured they are, or that they are at all, because he's using sprung-rhythm and odd stresses, and though it's all entirely worked out to a formula* the effect produced is conventions broken and linguistic boundaries crossed.

And, sorry everyone, but we need more people thinking about meter and stress. In fact,
I'm fed up of these
Poems that have lines breaks for no
Good reason, which aren't really
Justified by stresses or whatever.
It conspire to produce an
Eternity of Thribb.

I think this, along with their obsession with petty, whimsical details of their personal lives, their silly, trite, smug, political point-scoring, and the absolute unwillingness to pull out the stops and take their work seriously and maybe reference a bit of Dante, hell, maybe even read a bit of Dante, maybe try and make something that outlasts their own petty little era, is why I find so many contemporary poets entirely fucking unmemorable.






*A very good formula he includes in an essay I have in an ancient Penguin Poets paperback from before the war. Everyone needs to read this, and Pound's manifestoes. I'll post it in about a week if it can't be found elsewhere on the net.
 
 
All Acting Regiment
16:09 / 19.12.06
I should add that I have no problem with free verse. Of course, E.J. Thribb is not that.
 
 
ginger
20:08 / 19.12.06
for those of you with an eye on pinter, have a look at this week's 'private eye', featuring pinter's interpretations of various festive songs. i haven't got a copy to hand, but if i recall correctly,

The holly and the ivy,
When they are both full-grown
Are turned into weapons to
Torture the rest of us.


i never really got hopkins. i mean, i can see the point, and appreciate the cleverness, but sometimes, he does such horrible things to language, it's hard to read his stuff without occasionally sitting back and reminding yourself that he was victorian and didn’t know any better. i’m thinking of ‘god’s grandeur’ in particular, with the horror concentrated around

‘... Why do men now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod...’


‘why do men now not reck his rod’? yeah, elegant, gerard, well done. i get the repetition, but even so, it’s uuuuuglee. ‘the wreck of the deutshland’ remains one of the funniest poems about drowning nuns in the history of english literature, mind. as for the jesus-love, as whisky priestess observes, it’s not exactly new; the anglo-saxon ‘dream of the rood’ features a description of the crucifixion in which jesus basically shags the cross.


as for contemporary poets and their likely failure to outlast our petty little era, it’s a bit depressing, really, isn’t it? the metrical stuff’s just as bad, in terms of lack of seriousness and so on; shitty soft thinking, hidden behind technique. i mean, if simon armitage is really the best we can do, it might be time for the poetic community to take a bath and have a long, hard think. alas, not even dante’s going to save us; i remember going to a piss-poor reading by someone major in the minor leagues, who was translating dante, but putting a huge iraq-based spin on things. we need to bring back national service and the birch. that’ll learn the bastards.
 
 
All Acting Regiment
20:57 / 19.12.06
I was going to whip out my sword-stick at the hopkins-bashing, but then you made a very good point about the Deutschland being funny. It is. As for the bit you quoted, well, yeah, but there are better bits.

As for contemporary poets and their likely failure to outlast our petty little era, it’s a bit depressing, really, isn’t it? the metrical stuff’s just as bad, in terms of lack of seriousness and so on; shitty soft thinking, hidden behind technique. i mean, if simon armitage is really the best we can do, it might be time for the poetic community to take a bath and have a long, hard think. alas, not even dante’s going to save us; i remember going to a piss-poor reading by someone major in the minor leagues, who was translating dante, but putting a huge iraq-based spin on things. we need to bring back national service and the birch. that’ll learn the bastards.

I fear that if we birched them they'd only write poems about how they'd survived it.

Seriously though, yes, I think things are in a bad way. Now, I'd add the caveat that often, when people say this about music or art or film, the best advice is to go out and look for the worthwhile stuff, because as ever it needs to be looked for. The great things we remember from the past, which define the past for us as a wonderful world of great works, needed to be looked for. However, there also needs to be a group of people dedicated to making the stuff for people to find and I don't think we have that.

Two reasons for this. First of all, majorly, I think "intellectualism", book-larnin', went out of fashion, even for the few people who could afford books/education anyway, sometime between the end of the war and the mid-80s, at least in Britain. Stephen Fry, the modern exponent, is a caricature. There are some threads about this here and here.

I think that once, rich people, however snobbish they were, were at least snobbish about things like literature and art, whereas now I think it's all about cars and big houses and golf, to the exlcusion of all else. You aren't expected to prove yourself worthy of money, just prove you've got it. I've also got this vague theory that we've gone from having a very good, very high, very wide standard of education for the upper classes and nothing for the rest, to a grey, boring, middling education for everyone, where we all glumly pick apart poetry without it being celebrated. I know we're trying to give people an education for life, and a vocational one for people who need it, but I think it's excluding a lot of what makes life worth living. People I've met on English courses complain because they don't see why you should read a 1000 year old book- they don't disagree with it, they don't want to take up an argument with it, they just don't see why you should read it in the first place. I'm not asking for a return to the old way, but I think there's something very wrong with the way it's done now.

Now, all that may be bullshit, even reactionary, and anyone who knows more than me is welcome to rip into it. If we agree with some of it, though, what it all leads to is a situation where even educated people are disconnected from the great voices that have gone before, and, crucially, they're afraid of writing "serious" poetry.

Second reason is British trend for jolly self-deprecation and lack of any passion, or at least, the form this takes in witty little "jokes" and silliness of a "traditionally British" kind. I'm part Latino, this spinelessness makes me want to kill. Mind you, I think Auden sink-pisser and incestuous Byron probably had something similar, but somehow...very different. It's the difference between Doctor Who and Antiques Roadshow.

Mind you, it's not all bad. I mean, this may sound trite, but I think all the various forms of rapping represent a strong, vital poetic tradition that fulfills the two roles of meaning stuff to people whilst also saying things one can't in everyday conversation.
 
 
grant
13:39 / 11.01.07
I just found this.

I have no idea who wrote it, but I'm digging it.
 
 
iconoplast
23:00 / 11.01.07
1. I read that, grant, and was happy to have recently moved to Portland.

2. I remember reading Marilyn Hacker a couple of years ago - she is both (a) Living, and (b) Extremely formal (what I remember is reading a pretty long (2 page-ish) poem, and halfway down the second page realizing the whole thing was in iambic pentameter). She is also (c) totally fucking awesome.
 
 
iconoplast
14:02 / 12.01.07
Also, Marlilyn Hacker was, once upon a time, Mrs. Samuel R. Delany.
 
  

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