Good Poetry VS Bad Poetry!
A dialogue about the state of modern verses
— Hey, what are you doing?
— I’m writing poems.
— Really? I didn’t know you had this hobby!
— Oh, well, ya know, it’s just one of many…
— That’s for sure a big one. I love poetry.
— Glad to hear that!
— May I read something of yours?
— Oh, sure! Here, take. Tell me what you think!
— Readin’…
Arise from this college! Share the child in wisecrack Vegetation in half cool pollution Jaw peak in bond, in hard shame Anticipation of a true reaction A recovery barrier for the detective Case that calls for unanimous ideas A pony pile of awful prints In expansion from the pavement! Leg tortured by the pressure, Clearance charter of a glare journal Embarking for a note that differ in trends Deny relieve and debt stuff here Driver or rider? Mother! Water for grandmother! Confusion is a symptom Of funny interests!
— So? What do you think?
— Well…
— C’mon, I’m curious to hear!
— May I be completely frank?
— Uh, yes?
— Ok, uh…
— So?
— Ok, wait. Maybe I need to read more.
— Oh.
— Do you have other poems?
— Sure! I wrote dozens!
— Ok…
— Here’s my notebooks, pal!
— Oh. They are… They are several …
— 43, until now.
— Oh. And you want me to…
— YES! Please, read them all! Tell me if I can publish them!
— Ok… Give me the ‘books, I’ll read them this afternoon.
— Great! I’ve complete confidence in your judgment!
— I hope so too…
— What do you mean, lad?
— Oh, nothing. I’ll tell ya tomorrow…
— Great! Cya!
— Bye…
— Ok, maybe it was just that one. Let’s give a chance to the rest…
Beautiful notebook of mine, Elite duke of my fantasy Be the chorus during snack! Television, dynamic, faithful Allow the absolute reach of zero, Possible replacement for My professional swallow. Funeral sweat, rescue of generation The tablet skip the score of my wrist The interface pier and collapse at it Halt consumption! Inspire investigation Meadows in breakfast, the prize of choose Scenario of my inner privacy, slam the tax! Piano production? A problem of ditch Cooperative is the color-blind stock And the wording in my banner!
— What the…
Theme: bark the dog Pension in patience Jockey swords Measure my proposal Rainbow information? Cap that garlic suspicion Deficit of faith, God help me! Up and predict the mystery To us in earthquake secretion a White meal in particular Front cower located here My requirement for inquiry Ah! The torch flight! Extension of a modest confrontation The constitution performs buttocks Bible benefits, but I can’t read! Intervention from the terrace Correspondence of my collection The marine tick summer papers! A combination that deletes a lion 123, 456, 789, oh, where’s the 10? I see nothing but more nothing in this Number of my life! 0, 0, 0 and more 0!
— Oh, my…
Council in my collar I dress a sausage in a cylinder I reproduce and lay My right calculation at the bottom of horror Abandoned by my printer Coat — research — shallow I’m a child, a specimen that tempt to be a consumer at the concert of conflict Dive the dog in my yard Tread humor, a talkative cord Dragon is the true executrix Now go, show the surface! A national divorce for us Transaction of the old camp Intelligence through camera The jungle is a waste Press relationships Disco herding people Tick world series My agent is in the railroad of inch times
— …ok.
THE DAY AFTER
— Hey ,bro!
— Hi…
— Have you read my poems?
— Sure…
— Oh, cool! And what do you think about them? Could I publish them?
— Before hearing my opinion on them, I would like you to read this.
— What’s that?
— A poem I wrote tonight.
— Oh, ok!
— Can you tell me if I can publish it?
— Oh, sure, lemme read it…
He had unknowingly taken up sleepwalking as a nighttime hobby. There’s a reason that roses have thorns. He is good at eating pickles and telling women about his emotional problems. The doll spun around in circles in hopes of coming alive. Going from child, to childish, to childlike is only a matter of time. He decided water-skiing on a frozen lake wasn’t a clever idea. Check back tomorrow; I will see if the book has arrived. And he barked orders at his daughters, but they just stared back with amusement. It was a slippery slope and he was willing to slide all the way to the deep, deepest depths. The gruff old man sat in the back of the bait shop grumbling to himself as he scooped out a handful of worms. He had accidentally hacked into his company’s server. The crowd yells and screams for more memes. It took him a month to finish the meal. The wake behind the boat told of the past while the open sea for told life in the unknown future. He was sitting in a trash can with high street class. She, oh, wanted a pet platypus — but ended up getting a duck and a ferret instead. Improve your goldfish’s physical fitness by getting him a bicycle. One small action would change her life, but whether it would be for better or for worse was yet to be determined. The waitress was not amused when he ordered green eggs and ham. It was her first experience training a rainbow unicorn. I love eating toasted cheese and tuna sandwiches. When she didn’t like a guy, who was trying to pick her up, she started using sign language. He ran out of money, so he had to stop playing poker. She tilted her head back and let whip cream stream into her mouth while taking a bath. She is never happy until she finds something to be unhappy about; then, she is overjoyed. He took one look at what was under the table and moped the hell out of there. It had been sixteen days since the zombies first attacked. Tom got a small piece of pie. She could hear him in the shower singing with a joy she hoped he’d retain after she delivered the news. He had then concluded that pigs must be able to fly in Hog Heaven. My Mom tries to be cool by saying that she likes all the same things that I do not do. Peanut butter and jelly caused the elderly lady to think about her past. He found a leprechaun in his walnut shell. He quietly entered the museum as the super bowl started. She folded her handkerchief neatly. The fish then dreamed of escaping the fishbowl and into the bathroom where he saw his friend go. She hadn’t had her cup of coffee, and that made things all the worse. When he had to picnic on the beach, he purposely put sand in other people’s food. She investigated the mirror and saw another person. It was the scarcity that fueled his creativity. He was willing to find the depths of the rabbit hole to be with her. The light in his life was a fire burning all around him. I ate a sock because people on here, the Internet, told me to. I would have gotten the promotion, but my attendance wasn’t good enough. I currently have 4 windows open and I don’t know why. This is a Japanese doll. She used her own hair in the soup to give it more flavor. He used to get confused between soldiers and shoulders, but as a military man, he now soldier’s responsibility. I just wanted to tell you I could see the love you have for your child you look at her. The stranger officiates the meal. They are all dead now. Forever.
— So?
— Uh…
— Yes?
— Uh, well…
— Don’t be shy.
— Oh, well, yeah, I’m not shy, it’s just… Well…
— Yeees?
— Uh, pal, if I have to be completely sincere… It sucks.
— And can you tell me why?
— Well…
— Be honest.
— I…
— BE BRUTAL!
— Hey! Ok, ok! Calm down, pal!
— It was just a form of incitement.
— Ok. Well, bro, it seems to me like a bunch of random phrases glued together. I don’t understand the plot, I see no links to the various characters, I mean, it’s even hard to read, but at the same time very, very banal and bland.
— Can I be brutal with you, now?
— Uh? Yes..?
— I felt the same with your poems.
— …oh.
— I would like you to read this now.
— Ok…
O graziosa luna, io mi rammento Che, or volge l’anno, sovra questo colle Io venia pien d’angoscia a rimirarti: E tu pendevi allor su quella selva Siccome or fai, che tutta la rischiari. Ma nebuloso e tremulo dal pianto Che mi sorgea sul ciglio, alle mie luci Il tuo volto apparia, che travagliosa Era mia vita: ed è, nè cangia stile, O mia diletta luna. E pur mi giova La ricordanza, e il noverar l’etate Del mio dolore. Oh come grato occorre Nel tempo giovanil, quando ancor lungo La speme e breve ha la memoria il corso, Il rimembrar delle passate cose, Ancor che triste, e che l’affanno duri!
— Pal, I took Italian classes, but I’m a bit rusty now…
— You can read the translation below to help yourself.
— Ok, sorry, ok…
O lovely moon, now I’m reminded How almost a year since, full of anguish, I climbed this hill to gaze at you again: and you hung there, over that wood, as now, clarifying all things. But filled with mistiness, trembling, that’s how your face seemed to me, with all those tears that welled in my eyes, so troubled was my life: and is, and does not change, O moon, my delight. And yet it does help me, To record my sadness and tell it, year by year. Oh how sweetly it hurts, when we are young, when hope has such a long journey to run, and memory is so short, this remembrance of things past, even if it Is sad, and the pain lasts!
— What do you think about it?
— That’s beautiful… Did you write it?
— This is a poem by Leopardi.
— Oh, great one.
— Read this, now.
— Ok…
refuse to be a Beam; the Medium of Language piers overeat to dine here an’ smiles at pop Views — like a short living Venus with Glasses over Deck, an Incitation to Proposals wrecked by a quaint Insistence an’ charming the Dream riders on the Beach of low Exposure, an Interference bothering Who accepts to shatter an Admission; a Peasant with a stringless Guitar, a Mayor in the Bucket who burns, satisfied by his own Enthusiasm — a Correction for shortage of Blades by brand new Willpowers, burst by Merchants with Pride, tenant of Alarms in sweet Waist, and drown during my upset Rolls; I’m installing my ultimate End…
— Woah, that’s better then the other one. Is this yours?
— Yes.
— Good job, pal.
— That’s always subjective.
— But I like it. It’s very evocative, but…
— But?
— … what the actual hell are you talking about, in here???
— Did I asked ‘bout what are you talking in yours?
— Uh, nooo?
— And you know why?
— No, why?
— Because poetry does not have to be explained.
— Oh.
— Poetry must be experienced. It is a flow that you and only you have to dive in and discover the inner, deepest meanings. You are the explanation to it. Don’t waste your potential with random sentences. Let yourself be possessed. And poetry will express herself through your mind, your heart and your pen.
