Thoughts?
Matriarch
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I believe Poetry has an image problem.
Thoughts?
Thoughts?
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Poetry - what images conjur up when you read the word?
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Active Ink Slinger
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Ice
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--Poetry - what images conjur up when you read the word?--
overly earnest young adults in independent coffee shops.
overly earnest young adults in independent coffee shops.
Lurker
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Sunday afternoons when my hubby and daughter are out and about and I can relax on the couch with some tea, Bach and the Bronte sisters.
Lush Legend
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I think that poetry exists in everything you see and that the image is up to every individual...
[IMG]http://i587.photobucket.com/albums/ss314/Niqnix/x%20Icons/63190c.jpg[/IMG]
[IMG]http://i587.photobucket.com/albums/ss314/Niqnix/x%20Icons/63190c.jpg[/IMG]
"Love all, trust a few, and do wrong to none."
Active Ink Slinger
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It just need to be express and explored to be understood.
Carpe Diem
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Mr Nobody
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The classics are best
Mary had a little lamb,
She also had a bear,
I've often seen Mary's little lamb,
But I've never seen her bear.
Old mother Hubbard,
Went to the cupboard,
To get her poor dog a bone,
But when old mother bent over,
Rover drove her, 'cause,
Rover had a bone of his own.
Mary had a little watch,
She kept it in her garter.
And when the boys asked her the time,
She knew what they were after.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,
All the king's horses, and all the king's men,
Has one fucking big omelet.
The boy stood on the burning deck,
Having a game of cricket,
The ball rolled up his trouser leg,
And hit his 'middle wicket'.
From a mirror tied to a ceiling,
A delectable damsel of Ealing,
Saw certain sights, Which enhanced the delights,
Of the things she was hitherto feeling
Mary had a little lamb,
She also had a bear,
I've often seen Mary's little lamb,
But I've never seen her bear.
Old mother Hubbard,
Went to the cupboard,
To get her poor dog a bone,
But when old mother bent over,
Rover drove her, 'cause,
Rover had a bone of his own.
Mary had a little watch,
She kept it in her garter.
And when the boys asked her the time,
She knew what they were after.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,
All the king's horses, and all the king's men,
Has one fucking big omelet.
The boy stood on the burning deck,
Having a game of cricket,
The ball rolled up his trouser leg,
And hit his 'middle wicket'.
From a mirror tied to a ceiling,
A delectable damsel of Ealing,
Saw certain sights, Which enhanced the delights,
Of the things she was hitherto feeling
Administration
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Old guys with white hair, Universities, libraries.
A pity poetry hasn't moved with the times, it seems like a dying artform.
A pity poetry hasn't moved with the times, it seems like a dying artform.
Active Ink Slinger
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well if it can progress if we make it more lively.
Carpe Diem
Red out
Red out
Active Ink Slinger
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Dead Poets Society and this part of the forums are the only things that have reminded me of poetry in the last 20 years. Sad huh.