“Asking for a friend 😉”
I’ve been trying my hand at poetry and then the challenge of terrible poetry showed up. I thought–I can do that! But it is harder than it seems and has made me wonder about even what I consider acceptable / good poetry.
How do you judge whether a poem is good or not?
What are the sources you use for inspiration?
Thank you for responding.
@Ruth
I don’t write poetry, but I like yours! God bless!
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Oh, thank you.
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I have been trying to write some poetry too, but have not produced anything I like well enough to publish yet. I love poetry. Good poetry. Good poetry makes me feel something I wouldn’t have felt without reading the poem.
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Sometimes life inspires me to write a few lines of poetry such as the weather or a season, a life event, or the sudden memory of a past event. I think poetry is like any creative endeavor and what my words mean to me may mean something very different to the reader. I do not consider myself a poet per se, but I enjoy dabbling in it from time to time. Whether a poem is “good” or “bad” is less important to me than the fact that someone somewhere exercised their innate need to create – so in that sense it’s all good. Art,like beauty, is in the eyes of the beholder, or in this case the reader.
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Thank you for that beautiful perspective!
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You’re most welcome – I guess I am a fan of free verse
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Here is how I feel poetry, not knowing what a good one is …
http://asimon.eu/blog/poesie/poesie/
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Sorry I can’t read it.
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So, I’ll try to translate it. At least the meaning, because I’m not able to write poetry in English, my knowledge being too basic 🙂
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Ok. And when translated it will lose meaning too. Thank you for trying.
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You’re right, it’s the reason why I prefer to read in original language, when I can … 🙂 And it’s easyer to read than to write.
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Here is it. Hoping with few errors.
Poetry is a hard
drug
which effects, in sailing mind,
last.
The world is bursting, and its parts
falling like rain
are comets in the sky,
infinites
adorned with unreal colours
so truer
than the artificial rags
of thick days.
The insignificant, disproportionate,
occupy alone all the space
and all the time,
the one passing
and the one stopped.
The thundering whispers,
pastel color
or black and white,
are a call
to follow the tortuous meanders
of syllables,
exactly like
the astrolab’s paths.
Being reader or writer,
the poet is an illusion
of himself, and of the glimmer
he believes is shining on the horizon.
Poetry is a hard
drug,
and the poet is sailing
on an adventure.
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Thank you!! I like it! I’m sure it is even nicer in French?
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I hope so 😉 Thank you for readings
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Ah, Ruth. This is what I get for getting waaay behind on my Reader’s Feed.
The other comments are fantastic; I totally agree.
From what I’ve seen; poetry needs to come from knowing how to write according to rules and writing quite a few poems that way, then eventually breaking out and working from feelings.
Practice, practice, practice -right?
You’re a good poet, and a good terrible poet. Keep writing!
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Thank you Chelsea. I’m trying to learn the different forms. Thanks for your encouragement.
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