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.
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.
cinta anda forever is about a girl who lives in a town, and has a few friends, she is every teachers "Perfect Student". A new boy and his sister pindah to town, and they fall in love. her father doesnt approve of the boy. the girl and boy plan to run away 2gether with his sister and her boyfriend. but her father makes her pindah towns. she is forced 2 go 2 a all girls school, she is lost and alone, so she turns 2 suicide. the boy and his sister find her and they take her out of school and run away 2gether and promise to cinta each other forever. but her father finds out and shoots the boy, the girl is in pain and so is his sister so they run away from their lives and live new ones, under false identities, until her father finds her and kills both of them. (btw the father is crazy)
ok so now i need ur opinions. is it 2 borin, atau does it have a chance...
please tell me your true opinions.
ok so now i need ur opinions. is it 2 borin, atau does it have a chance...
please tell me your true opinions.
im so sick.
im sick of everything about you.
i hate what anda say,
what anda do,
everything.
it sets off some spark,
that just angers me inside and out.
im so sick.
im sick of your laugh,
your smile,
your eyes,
everything.
i hate how anda talk to me,
how anda treat me,
what anda think of me as.
im not your toy,
im not your anything.
i dont belong to you,
im not a possession.
im just me.
and im so sick.
sick of everything in this godforsaken world.
especially you.
and i dont want to be something
that hates and is sick
of everything.
im just sick of you.
and honestly...
i dont want to be with you
anymore.
im so sick.
im sick of everything about you.
i hate what anda say,
what anda do,
everything.
it sets off some spark,
that just angers me inside and out.
im so sick.
im sick of your laugh,
your smile,
your eyes,
everything.
i hate how anda talk to me,
how anda treat me,
what anda think of me as.
im not your toy,
im not your anything.
i dont belong to you,
im not a possession.
im just me.
and im so sick.
sick of everything in this godforsaken world.
especially you.
and i dont want to be something
that hates and is sick
of everything.
im just sick of you.
and honestly...
i dont want to be with you
anymore.
im so sick.
i cant take any more
of these drugs.
the poison,
attacking at my veins,
api spreading through,
cant breathe.
but i need these,
and i must feel this
in order to get better.
no matter what it takes,
i have to get over you.
and even if this is
the most irrational way
to get over you,
i still intend on doing this.
i dont care how many needles
i must pierce through my arms,
how many seizures i must suffer through,
whatever it takes.
im going to do my best
to forget anda even exist.
i dont care how much cocaine i snuff,
how many pills i take,
how many cuts
slice through my skin,
atau even if i end up
killing myself in the process.
i would be so lucky.
so,whatever it takes
to get over you
is the extreme
im going to have to
accomplish.
i dont care if i live,
i dont care if i die,
i dont care if all of this
is even real atau not.
im just going to do
whatever it takes
to get anda out of my mind.
even if i die...
of these drugs.
the poison,
attacking at my veins,
api spreading through,
cant breathe.
but i need these,
and i must feel this
in order to get better.
no matter what it takes,
i have to get over you.
and even if this is
the most irrational way
to get over you,
i still intend on doing this.
i dont care how many needles
i must pierce through my arms,
how many seizures i must suffer through,
whatever it takes.
im going to do my best
to forget anda even exist.
i dont care how much cocaine i snuff,
how many pills i take,
how many cuts
slice through my skin,
atau even if i end up
killing myself in the process.
i would be so lucky.
so,whatever it takes
to get over you
is the extreme
im going to have to
accomplish.
i dont care if i live,
i dont care if i die,
i dont care if all of this
is even real atau not.
im just going to do
whatever it takes
to get anda out of my mind.
even if i die...
Once upon a time There was a girl named Abby. She loved to talk. Her teachers eventually stopped calling on her.
One day, she talked during a api while a kid in her class was telling her teacher where the 17 other children were.
The teacher couldn't here her, and the cari for the children lasted twelve hours. During that time, a gang mencuri five computers, three cars, seventeen dogs, and blackmailed the mayor into giving them seven grand.
Abby was expelled from the school.
When she told her parents, they imediately looked for a school for her to go to.
But the only school that gave her acceptence was the class in the juvinille deliquent center.
So she was halaman awal schooled.
But she caused her parents so much trouble that in a week they lost their all hair and were standing on the thin line between sanity and the nut house.
So they duct-taped her mouth shut.
THE END
One day, she talked during a api while a kid in her class was telling her teacher where the 17 other children were.
The teacher couldn't here her, and the cari for the children lasted twelve hours. During that time, a gang mencuri five computers, three cars, seventeen dogs, and blackmailed the mayor into giving them seven grand.
Abby was expelled from the school.
When she told her parents, they imediately looked for a school for her to go to.
But the only school that gave her acceptence was the class in the juvinille deliquent center.
So she was halaman awal schooled.
But she caused her parents so much trouble that in a week they lost their all hair and were standing on the thin line between sanity and the nut house.
So they duct-taped her mouth shut.
THE END
As I grow to think about it lebih and more, and understand it lebih and more, I see that, as the saying goes, life is like a game of chess. But I have made my own saying up, which seems lebih true to me. Life is like a venture into the unknown. anda never know what might await anda next, lebih dangers, atau even happy successes. But one thing is for certain, anda cannot always be happy, atau always be depressed. Life is like a mountain. anda climb it, face all the challenges life brings you. anda dump and break up, anda win and make up. Things happen. anda can't control it most of the time. So never blame yourself for bad things that happened to anda in life. Life gets confusing a lot. But I still strive to reach my goals. Without goals, I would be like a broken-winged bird that could not fly. I would be aimless. I would not become better, build my character. Life is like a venture into the unknown, and I believe that to be true. So true.
I know I asked for too much before
I know I deserved for anda to walk out the door
But anda didn’t need to give it away
I promise anda I’ll give it a try
anda don’t have to buy my love
anda don’t need to give so much
I know I asked for a lot, never seemed satisfied
The word want makes me needy
Cause anda don’t have to buy my love
Wants have become a trigger
I’ll put your white string around my finger
Shouldn’t have asked
I never should’ve asked
anda shouldn’t be buying love,
Don’t give it all away to me
I hope anda finally see
That wanting from anda makes me feel
anda shouldn’t buy my love
I know I deserved for anda to walk out the door
But anda didn’t need to give it away
I promise anda I’ll give it a try
anda don’t have to buy my love
anda don’t need to give so much
I know I asked for a lot, never seemed satisfied
The word want makes me needy
Cause anda don’t have to buy my love
Wants have become a trigger
I’ll put your white string around my finger
Shouldn’t have asked
I never should’ve asked
anda shouldn’t be buying love,
Don’t give it all away to me
I hope anda finally see
That wanting from anda makes me feel
anda shouldn’t buy my love