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posted by Cinders
I've been slowly but steadily coming to the conclusion that poetry as an art form is quickly losing its flavor amongst the iPod generation. And I'm not talking about contemporary poets who don't get read oleh the masses, because as Gertrude Stein would say, "Those who are creating the modern composition authentically are naturally only of importance when they are dead because oleh that time the modern composition having become past is classified and the keterangan of it is classical. That is the reason why the creator of the new composition in the arts is an outlaw until he is a classic." Or, in other words, a poet only matters after his work has been deemed a classic. This has occurred plenty of times in history. The only real audience for contemporary poets is other poets.

No, I am not worried about the contemporary poets so much as I am worried about the classics.

As a lover of poetry myself, I signed up for a Modern poetry class because I thought it would be fun to read some of the classic modernists and discuss them with a group of fellow poetry enthusiasts. Now, as a young American with friends of varying interest, I could already tell that the majority of young America couldn't give a flying monkey about poetry. Most of these folks also couldn't care less for literature in general. English majors and avid readers tend to be different. English majors and avid readers are supposed to enjoy literature in general. English majors and avid readers are, mostly, supposed to read at least some poetry.

I learned from a brief chat with my professor that "Modern Poetry" is rarely offered, because little interest is shown in it. And, granted, this was a summer course, but summers at the universitas of Washington tend to be quite busy with a bunch of bustling students trying to pack in a few extra credits to graduate early, atau to catch up with their graduating class. Including myself, there were three official students of Modern Poetry, and one auditor, who was a very interesting retiree and poetry-lover.

Speaking to the other two students my age, I quickly learned two things about English majors at the universitas of Washington: A) That even if they liked literature, most of the time they did not like and, to some extent, even loathed poetry. And B) That an English major is not required to take any classes in poetry at all, and can easily obtain a degree without ever having to look at a single poem.

Now, some may recall that even I expressed frustration with the poetry we read in the the chat, atau complained about all the essays I was menulis for the class, but in truth I actually rather quite enjoyed it, for all my complaining. But I quickly learned a new thing, about my generation in general (not just English majors). And that is that even a well-read person who knows exactly who you're talking about when anda mention Hemingway, has no idea who anda mean when anda casually mention Stein in the same sentence, even though Ernest Hemingway and Gertrude Stein were not only contemporaries, but good friends.

To my everyday group of high school graduate friends, I throw out names like "Harper Lee," "J.D. Salinger," "F. Scott Fitzgerald," and even occasionally "Albert Camus," "Joseph Conrad," atau "Chinua Achebe," they know who I'm talking about because the novels of these authors were required membaca in their high school.

If, to the same group of high school graduate friends, I toss out names like "William Carlos Williams," "Wallace Stevens," "Elizabeth Bishop," atau even "T. S. Eliot," "Ezra Pound," atau "W. B. Yeats," they tend to stare at me blankly.

Why is this, I ask? Why is it that the great novelists of the nineteenth and twentieth century are recognized oleh my generation, but not the poets? Why do we feel this vague sense of, "Oh, I should know who he is... Wasn't he black?" when we hear the name "Langston Hughes"? Or, "Dang, 'Gertrude Stein,' she sounds super familiar... Wasn't she a lesbian?"

A cepat, swift cari of fanpop for the major contributors to the modernist canon revealed that the only mentions of any of these names (Williams, Stevens, Bishop, Eliot, Pound, Yeats, Hughes, and Stein) reveal nothing, atau if something, an artikel in which I alluded and/or quoted one of them.

I published an artikel centering around Hughes' poem the other hari in hopes to stir up a little discussion on the poem. The poem itself was rather incendiary at the time, and some may consider it to be offensive still, which was exactly what I wanted to discuss. It received six ratings, which I was pleased with, and not a single comment.

So this is my pertanyaan that I am posing to you, writers and poets: Did anda recognize any of the names I dropped in this article? If anda did, can anda name one poem any of them wrote? Can anda name two? If anda can name three, I may have to get down on one knee and propose. Because even amongst English majors, I've found, poetry is not necessarily a welcome topic of conversation.

Now, why is this? Is poetry too dry for our short attention spans these days? It has been argued that artists such as John Lennon, Joni Mitchell and Don McLean were the real poets of their generation, and were paralleled with poets like Allan Ginsberg of the Beat Generation. So if this is the case, does that mean I'm wrong? What if poetry isn't dying? What if it's just slowly evolving into brand new forms, just like us? What if our poetry is our music? Song lyrics are lebih often quoted oleh teens than any classical lyric. Regardless of whether atau not a poem of the canon is timeless atau period-specific, it would seem that most of the iPod's generation's interest is in the world, and subsequently poetry of music. If these populer lyrics were written, atau read, and not sung, would they still be popular?

And if they remained popular, why song lyrics and not other poetry? What makes, for exampled, Jason Mraz's "If it's a broken part, replace it/If it's a broken arm then brace it/If it's a broken jantung then face it," any lebih interesting than Don McLean's, "The silver thorn on the bloody rose/Lay crushed and broken on the virgin snow" atau any lebih interesting than Wallace Stevens' "People are not going/To dream of baboons and periwinkles./Only, here and there, an old sailor,/Drunk and asleep in his boots,/Catches tigers/In red weather." (Quotes and artists/poets selected at my discretion. From "Details in the Fabric," "Vincent," and "Disillusionment of Ten O'Clock" respectively).

Hm... It's all very tricky, isn't it? I asked my uncle this pertanyaan earlier, and he suggested that it was because musik was lebih readily accessible to folks nowadays because it's everywhere anda turn. Poetry, not so much.

So what do anda guys think? Are anda a fan of the classic poets? Are anda a fan of poets in general? Do anda prefer song lyrics, atau written poetry? atau do anda think they are apples and oranges? Is poetry dying, atau is it just changing to meet the needs of the rapidly shrinking attention span? If it is changing, is it a good thing? Will people still study the modernists (Eliot, Pound, Stein) in the future, atau will their work slowly fade into obscurity?

Talk to me! I would cinta to dialog about this.
posted by rebaj2010
Chapter 1

Looking back i regret everything i did to her. not only was she the best thing in my life she was also the only thing.
A cool breeze comes rushing through the open door to the warehouse. Samsion walks in with a case of beer.
"Finally, stupid ass, took anda long enough." a guy komentar from the back.
All the Mexicanos in the room tackle my best friend for the beers and he come sits with me. we just sit there, he knows i dont want to talk. he gets up and hands me a beer, giving me a sypathatic look that pisses me off. i dont want sympathy, i want Rebecca.
"You know anda can talk about it with...
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added by sapherequeen
Kyle:Krissa, it's ok, everything will be fine.

Krissa:No it won't!!!How can he do this to me!...how can he do this to us!

Me:He didn't...he did it to be happy.

Krissa looked at me with watery eyes, tears falling, dripping from her face.

Kyle:Kris, he is your father, but he just needs to pindah on and live a happier life.

Me:Exactly, he never wanted to hurt anda like this, he loves you, but he loves her, too.

Krissa:If he did cinta me, he'd dump that barbie!

Kyle looked at me, I looked at him.

Kyle:She needs some time alone.

I nodded.
I hurt the thump sound of when Krissa jumps on her bed.

Me:Maybe she'll grow out of it in a few days...

Kyle:Or a few years...why is she so...upset of her dad getting married?

Me:Well, when she went to visit him, she was just there, he never told her.She got mad and came right back.

Kyle:Well that IS upsetting.

Me:No kidding.
posted by dbzfan5
CHAPTER 1* the deepest abyss* in the ocean in the deepest abyss were no sign of light could be found little particles started to come together forming a strange creature that had the head of a human but as pail as the skin on a grate Wight, a hiu fin on its back, gills on the outer skin were its lungs are, arms of a praying mantis, six gel like tentacles on its back, with the body and legs of a human! Two of them were made one boy one girl they quickly swam to pantai *CHAPTER 2 there’s lebih of us* we got up to pantai and found a little island and swam to it finding lebih like us! Peek the...
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added by darkwave
posted by Cinders
It has been berkata that those with no words often have the most to say.


New York City, circa 1992.

He was quiet, a secret sort of troubled, his hands buried deep into his pockets as he wandered the slums of a black city, a heavy shadow cast over the sky that was too dark for the stars to penetrate.

She was a bloodnut and she watched him from the shadows, her dead jantung rattling inside of her empty chest. She launched herself at him and latched onto his arm like a leech, beginning to beg, offering services in exchange for the substance she craved so much. Just a taste, she said, she promised that...
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added by smartcockker
added by goood
This is just an excerpt, so it might be kinda confusing, but still, let me know please!

"    She was surrounded, there was no way to go, no where to turn. Circling around, trying to formulate a plan, a stab of pain coursed through her veins, bringing her to her knees. Another shot brought her a face-full of colorful carpet. Someone from behind tied her hands together in some unknown bindings and pinned her thrashing body to the ground with the help of a few others.
    “Check her.”
    That voice… where Have I heard it before?
    One...
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added by zanhar1
added by shaarabi
added by Andressa_Weld
posted by inexplicable
The last time

The hari was gray and it was raining outside. There were hardly any people seen on the streets, but I ran, soaked oleh the rain, down the street. I walked toward a house, but went unnoticed on the opposite side of the street. I looked up to the building and reminded me again at that time, to events to which I recalled many years later. It is in this house he lived not too long ago. Whether we were just friends, atau maybe even lebih than that, I still do not know. I called me back the memory of an evening that was not even long ago. We were in his room and he played me on the piano before...
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added by darga
added by ZekiYuro
posted by Theatre_Freak
Once upon a time there was a little place called the 13 colonies. In one of these colonies lived little old m,e Angelina, but there was something different. In my colony, everyone was the same; we all had binatang grew crops and so on, but I was special. Originally, I lived in Paris, France with my mother and father. After my father died when I was just a baby, my mother noticed that I had a gift that only few had in our family. I was a Witch.
My mother feared for my safety and made a deal with her sister. Her sister was a specialist in the dark arts of magic. Mother didn't trust her, but she...
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posted by twilight-rocks9
“Hay” Byron said. “Hi”I berkata “um….can I talk to you? This is sort of important.” I waited for his answer. It seemed like forever. “Sure. What do anda want to talk about?” I didn’t know how to start. “Your sister. She’s being quite childish about this I mean she’s 15 I know I acted like a 5-year old when it doesn’t get what it wants. But this is just….well dumb-” he cut me off. “How is she being childish?!” he was very furious he looked like would explode. “Well… she only lets anda talk to me when she’s not here. We have to hide the notes from her. And…...
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added by ZekiYuro
posted by Anudie
Once upon a time, in a perfect world there stood a perfect berwarna merah muda, merah muda kastil, castle guarded oleh a perfect number of perfect fluffy kuda and surrounded oleh a perfect dinding of perfect berwarna merah muda, merah muda flowers.
In the perfect kastil, castle there lived a perfect, perfect girl with a perfect life. Her perfect name was perfect: Serenity Lianna Honeyblossom Sweetytreat Sparkle cupcake Beauty Mary Sue.
She was always paid oleh authors to bintang in their buku and act like the perfect dream girl; aka a Mary Sue. She lived in Storyland, where all the ideal characters lived until they were picked for a story and then dropped back in after....
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posted by cute20k
Hi! I was menulis a novel a while back, but I got distracted. I have only written the first chapter. I feel as if I need better names for the characters. I believe I'm going to ubah the first chapter a lot and bring in some other characters. For the main 2 characters I was thinking I would name them something foreign that has a meaning to do with love, to be a little cutesy. Also, judul suggestions would help! If anda choose to follow the link below the female character's description, let me know if anda have any names for the 2 cheerleaders mentioned.

Edit: For 'Jo'/female I was looking up names...
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