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who is your poet?

Started by Sugarman (hal), September 14, 2007, 12:43:50 PM

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Sugarman (hal)

Who do you enjoy or draw strength from in poetry realm? And why...

for me, is Sarah Teasdale
(1884-1933)

http://www.poemhunter.com/sarah-teasdale/

because she has a way of painting pictures of emotions. they touch my old man's heart

The Coin

Into my heart's treasury
I slipped a coin
That time cannot take
Nor a thief purloin, --

Oh better than the minting
Of a gold-crowned king
Is the safe-kept memory
Of a lovely thing.
"And in the end
The love you take
Is equal to the love you make."

My On/Off's

Caustic

#1
Raymond Carver.

Well...

on second thought, there's too many to narrow it down, really. But looking back through my books, Yusef Komunyakaa is probably the one who's life astounds me the most... though Raymond Carver's death-- and exploratory acceptance of it-- amazes me as much, if not more. 

As far as to whom I feel a personal connection: sadly, with confessional-style honesty, I have to say Ted Hughes. Loving a profound manic-depressive isn't easy, and while we all toll Sylvia Plath with bittersweet reverence, there's another side to that story. 

Anyway... a little something from Komunyakaa.

CHASTITY BELT
Invisible catches & secret hooks, bone
Within bone & trick locks.
If a man needs this to hold
Love in place, the master of keys
Will always bite his nails
To the quick. Tooled leather,
Laced mail & jeweled bronze.
Before his departure over a body
Of tremulant water, he turns
The key in the lock as they kiss.
Like something alive, it sways
Beneath his armor from a gold chain
Around his neck, to the rhythm
Of galloping hooves. Two days
Later, with a dagger in his belly,
Thick fingers tear the key from his throat.
Stories are for those late hours in the night when you can't remember how you got from where you were to where you are. Stories are for eternity, when memory is erased, when there is nothing to remember but the story. -Tim O'Brien

Cherri Tart

Anne Sexton...

Watch out for love
(unless it is true,
and every part of you says yes including the toes) ,
it will wrap you up like a mummy,
and your scream won't be heard
and none of your running will end.

Love? Be it man. Be it woman.
It must be a wave you want to glide in on,
give your body to it, give your laugh to it,
give, when the gravelly sand takes you,
your tears to the land. To love another is something
like prayer and can't be planned, you just fall
into its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief.

there are others, and really, had I been in a different mood tonight i might have chosen one of them, or even a different poem, but right here, right now, she is it... i have shared, since i can remember, dreams of drowning, as much a reason for picking Ms. Sexton as for her words - there's always been a resonance for me. 
you were never able to keep me breathing as the water rises up again



O/O, Cherri Flavored

Elvi

John Copper Clark

http://www.cyberspike.com/clarke/

He's a 'Punk Poet', began his carrier in the 70's and is still working now.
A lot of his work is set to music and most are a social commentry.

One of my favourites.

Conditional Discharge

Satisfaction, comes and goes
biological action, cannot be froze
a sexual recharge, a plug in a socket
conditional discharge, a sticky deposit
more on the sick, down in the dumps
visit the clinics, where the stethescopes jump
on the love-sick side effects
tell me "what was it"
conditional discharge, a sticky deposit

the memory lingers, in the clean routine
another man's fingers, under my jeans
they give me a card, some antibiotics
said "conditional discharge," a sticky deposit

satisfaction, comes and goes
biological action, cannot be froze
a sexual recharge, a plug in a socket
conditional discharge, a sticky deposit

a random fuck, dirty sheets
a crack in a cup, a lavatory seat
I'm in the dark about where I got it
condtional discharge, a sticky deposit

sexual freedom, left me alone
in a garden of eden, syndrome
it's on the cards, you'll come across it
condtional discharge, a sticky deposit

the up's and down's, of times like these
fuckin' around, is a social disease
when the public-at-large don't know they got it
conditional discharge, a sticky deposit

a problem of leisure, measured in turns
of pain plus pleasure, plus poisoned sperm
take this diagram, keep it in your pocket
conditional discharge, a sticky deposit



It's been fun, but Elvi has now left the building

Nell

I really haven't read too much poetry other than the mainstream stuff like Byron, Shelly, Wordsworth, Keats, Dickinson, and Shakespeare, and some fairly unknown pieces from various people on deviantArt. So I would have to say that I draw strength from my own poetry the most simply because of how personal and meaningful it is to me...and yet I don't know if I could ever be truly satisfied with my own work.