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17 de Diciembre, 2006
Moem Peme
Categorized under Blogando , Memicry , Poesía | Tags: Poets
A
meme from Lorna Dee.
The first poem I remember reading was...
Hmm. I'm sure it was Dr. Suess, if that counts. But the first POEM I remember reading (and this sure doesn't mean it was the first) was Annabel Lee by Edgar Allen Poe. It struck me as terribly sad, and sweet, and morbid. Which I suppose it is. It is also very gothic, stiff, contrived, and dramatic. But hey. It's Poe, and I love him.
I was forced to memorize numerous poems in school and...
I was not. In fact, poetry got pretty short shrift from what I remember. I do remember in college we were going over it (like going over music, or math, or asphalt) at one point, and it wasn't a Poetry class, but perhaps some silly fundamental class, I can't remember. I remember tho that I was reprimanded at one point for being "rude" in the class. I remember that better than any poetry we "covered." Which tells you all you need to know about the class. Or me.
I read poetry because...
Because it takes me to a place my mind can not follow.
A poem I'm likely to think about when asked about a favorite poem...
maybe e.e.cummings...and there's two, but i cannot remember but that one is a love poem (very famous), and the other has the number or idea of "nine" in it...or maybe i just think of that when i read it. lorca has many...perhaps his Canción del muchacho de siete corazones, my father has a few, Lorna Dee herself has a few that move me (here's one I love but it is not my favorite of hers); Sandra Cisneros, Trinidad Sanchez.....
It's a bit silly to answer this. The truth of it is, by myself, (good) poetry flays me and my love for it has nothing to do with any one particular poem....I have a favorite everytime I read one and feel myself inhale just to let it in.
My experience with reading poetry differs from my experience with reading other types of literature...
A lot. To me it is the difference between eating pizza and eating real maple syrup candies. Probably, yeh, an awful metaphor, but I mean to say that with poetry, I gear down. I'm a fast reader, talker, typist. And that is not the way to read poetry. I do like to read "slow" enough to ingest words in a novel, but with poetry, I realllly like to slow down and let the words tumble over my tongue, blossom inside me, like the delicate and varied sweet inside the maple crystals, the crystals that need to melt, that change as you meet them, poetry changes me as I experience it. Good poetry, at least. Perhaps novels can be that good...but I think they are harder to find, maybe. And I don't have the urge to speak them aloud. Usually.
The last time I heard poetry...
I don't know. The truth is, I only hear it when I read it aloud. Mine or others'. I don't visit poetry slams, or any performances. Not because I'm against them. Because I'm a hermit who always wants to work. But I'd like to get into performing, and soaking up other peoples' junk. I think it would be good for me.
And...I would add that to me, any Spanish word with a u in it (ejemplo: Literatura) spoken with the proper accent, is a poem to me all in itself!
I think poetry is like...
Love. If you try to control it, own it, force it, or define it....you lose it. (But it is always waiting for your return)
Tagging ... you.




Comentarios (5)
kactus dijo:
Is the ee cummings poem the one that ends with "nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands"?
Cuz if it is, well...well, I just love that poem.
Palabras por kactus spat forth on el 19 de Diciembre, 2006 at 01:17 PM
nezua limón xolagrafik-jonez dijo:
THAT's it!!!! man, that one really blows me away. yeah. thanks! google shall take me all the way home.
Palabras por nezua limón xolagrafik-jonez spat forth on el 19 de Diciembre, 2006 at 01:18 PM
herm dijo:
doll’s boy ’s asleep
ee cummings
doll’s boy ’s asleep
under a stile
he sees eight and twenty
ladies in a line
the first lady
says to nine ladies
his lips drink water
but his heart drinks wine
the tenth lady
says to nine ladies
they must chain his foot
for his wrist ’s too fine
the nineteenth
says to nine ladies
you take his mouth
for his eyes are mine.
Doll’s boy ’s asleep
under the stile
for every mile the feet go
the heart goes nine
Palabras por herm spat forth on el 19 de Diciembre, 2006 at 01:18 PM
nezua limón xolagrafik-jonez dijo:
yeah. that's it. thank you!
man, i love that one.
and kai reminded me of another that was banging around in my mind. those are the three that i was mistaking for two.
strong.
Palabras por nezua limón xolagrafik-jonez spat forth on el 19 de Diciembre, 2006 at 01:20 PM
herm dijo:
yeah, i love ee cummings. that other one you were thinking of is here: http://www-scf.usc.edu/~thier/ee...r/ee/ #somewhere
[somewhere i have never traveled]
Palabras por herm spat forth on el 19 de Diciembre, 2006 at 01:20 PM