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Where have all the poems gone, long time passing?


paigetheoracle

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Could the loss of phonetics in the classroom have destroyed rhyme - in other words destroyed the rhythm of the language, so that poetry cannot survive in such barren, verbal soil? (Or is there some other cause?):shrug:

 

Hi Paige,

 

They've gone to the same place as the protest songs ('Where have all the flowers gone' - the Seekers). They are no longer in the mainstream because that's been clogged up with (commercial) crap for quite a while now. If you look at what passes as poetry these days (travelogues etc) you probably wouldn't remember any of them anyway.

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  • 2 months later...

Hmmm, interesting, tell me how they need to change.

 

Into eminem

 

My palms are sweaty need enough rhymes to keep this rap steady have I used spaghetti already or a yeti at a wedding throwing confetti at steady eddy man I'm goona floor us I got a thesaurus for the words in the chorus there's like taurus porous and brontosaurus...

 

Any MORON could do that.

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I consider myself a very good poet. Full of it, yes! Above average? By a country mile...

 

But I have books of material I don't even bother to try publish. It's a vanity, a bunch of paper wasted that winds up fattening library collections with mandatory purchases of an unwanted product.

 

Gift cards?.....

 

I do an amazing eulogy....

 

Or I could be a ©rap singer....

 

I could perhaps write the unreadable shite they call poetry in womens magazines....

 

I miss the good poetry too, but most of it is utter bunk. Lost love and teenage angst...

 

Hell, I was toured to read at one time and in one city every month a lady came to read a new poem about how much she missed her dead cat. Takes a lot of red wine and cash payments to make that shite palatable.

 

Old ladies with dead cats and spare time have destroyed poetry!

 

Here's one that took 60 hours.

 

My Love Is Dyslexic.

 

My love is dyslexic

So dimly veyse clix

Dyslexic my love is

Lyes so civil myxed

Dyslexic is my love

Oim sex devyyl slic

My dyslexic love is

Exiled

mylovyssic

 

My heart is pained

Despair in my heat

Lies broken dam stained

Torn insides made bleak

Memories are twisted

Time I wasted, remorse

And though still I wish it

This ill wind as I thought

 

My, love is dyslexic

X loved, slim yys ice

Dyslexic my love, is

Sexy dollys, mi vice

Dyslexic, is my love

Coy sex, vile dismyl

My dyslexic love is

Excised

Mylovysil.

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I'm working on hidden code and subtext in script now. My audience is more likely to be linguistics professors than average Joe.

 

A rhyming epic of a 16th century gravedigger (recorded as the country's greatest romantic poet) has in it's original script hidden codes and passages revealing a concealed manuscript.

 

The concealed manuscript is a gothic piece of murder and mayhem.

 

Basically the story reveals a first class sociopath, well loved, and completely evil.

 

This I have worked on for 2 decades. Will it ever be finished, I hope so. Got several inventions to finish first, then I'll have time to write again.

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...poetry cannot survive in such barren, verbal soil?
Agreed. Everybody writes poetry, nobody reads it.

 

:hyper:

Ohhh dilemma,

you two-headed snake,

making us choose,

making us stake.

 

I want to agree with both everybody and nobody, but I have to go with somebody and somebody. Quatrain Corner 2,987 Replies: 76,478 Views

 

Who reads this stuff!!?? :cup: :fire: :doh:

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Could the loss of phonetics in the classroom have destroyed rhyme - in other words destroyed the rhythm of the language, so that poetry cannot survive in such barren, verbal soil? (Or is there some other cause?):doh:

 

To this issue of 'destroying' the rhythm or rhyme of the language, I think it is a mistaken idea. These elements simply change over time. Language grows, and we peeps both grow it, and grow with it. There is no 'good old days'; these be them. From beat poetry, to ballads, to blues, to rap, rhyme & rhythm just won't go away. :hyper: :cup:

 

As I was going up the stair,

I met a man who wasn't there;

he wasn't there again today,

I wish I wish, he'd stay away.

~Hughes Mearns

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:cheer: :phones:

 

As I was going up the stair,

I met a man who wasn't there;

he wasn't there again today,

I wish I wish, he'd stay away.

~Hughes Mearns

 

Hi Paige,

I don't know if you recognize this author, but in checking my reference I see he shared an interest as you do, in stimulating children's creativity. So here's a Wiki real quicky: >> William Hughes Mearns - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

 

Turtle Out :eek:

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