She said,I love you rabid, yes,I do

I  thought he said he would import a loo.
What else would a virgin like me  think?
He said,I love you,baby, yes,I do

I  thought grandad  had died when he caught flu
I knew his health was always on the blink
I   wrote, you said  you would import a loo.

I fight off men by spitting super glue
I  wondered why the Queen  had pressed my link
She said,I love you rabid, yes,I do

English people always take the cue.
And peer  into  homes  through a little chink
I   say, you  have  a  super portaloo!

What makes any English virgin  blue?
It’s cold enought to make a polar blink
I  thought you said  you would, in part,  be true

I wonder why the Pope  says crosswords stink
And God stares down to watch him using ink
I  thought  John said he would import  gold too.
Then said,I love you greatly, yes,I do!

I like my solitude,I fear the mob

I have no microwave nor special hob
I  make good food for people whom I like
It may be buttered corn upon the cob.

Into my kitchen you may lemons lob
I’ll freeze them   with my magic lemon spike
I have no microwave nor special hob

I always cooked well though I had a job
I rode to work upon my ancient bike
I may  have buttered corn  for Uncle Bob.

I like my solitude,I fear the mob
I  never smoke though I can strike a light
I haven’t microwaved  induction hobs.

I like a handle better than a knob
I like conversing if I’m feeling quite.
I   fry men battered horns  to fill their gobs

Oh,kitchen unfit, what a  dreadful sight!
Send out the men  to buy me dynamite
I have no microwave nor golden hob
I always  say good morning   with my  love.

Poetry and politics

Showgazae

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/articles/detail/69080

 

“Indeed, the only other areas of American life that have similar inclinations are probably religion and philosophy. Religion is no longer attractive for many poets for reasons that are historical and beyond the scope of this essay. Philosophizing remains a popular endeavor in the poetry world, but only so long as it’s a poetic sort of philosophizing (Nietszche, Heidegger) and not complicated, logic-y stuff that involves formulations like ◊∃xφ→∃x◊φ. Since Anglo-American philosophy has been dominated by the latter sort of thinking for decades, it’s no surprise most poets don’t go in for it.

Which leaves politics as the most favorable non-artistic arena for a certain type of poetic sensibility. In his essay “Absolute Poetry and Absolute Politics,” Michael Hamburger argues that this sensibility, which he connects with the Romantic-Symbolist tradition, “presuppose[s] a high degree of isolation or alienation from society.” Hamburger believes that poets who work in this vein have “a private religion, a religio poetae irreconcilable with the exigencies of the public world,” and that such writers consequently are attracted to “absolute political creeds, mistaking their monomania for a dedication akin to [the poets’] own, and seduced by promises of order.” It’s an interesting point, but we can be satisfied with a more modest related argument: any brand of politics—”absolute” or not—has a vision that supports and sustains it, and in which some poets may find reflections of the structure they seek in their writing. Even a responsible American citizen-poet has a flicker of the old Romantic-Symbolist fire in his belly, and this may cause him to feel a connection to contemporary politics that is often no less intense than Pound’s affection for Il Duce. When Jorie Graham takes on global warming, that’s more or less what’s going on.”

Oh,lavatory,w.c or loo

Oh,lavatory,w.c or loo
Without your china, what would people do?
I hate to use a closet filled with earth
And weeing in the garden I feel cursed.

And by the loo we wash out dirty hands
In a shining basin where soap stands.
My soap is grapefruit  scented not by choice
But priests say it’s good for sinners’ voice.

For  when we sin ,we lie to our own souls
We self deceive and make pretend we’re whole.
Our voices falter and we lose our breath;
While God is looking down on us, we laugh.

While closeted for private needs  each day
Be careful  when you ,inadvertent ,pray

To a kettle

Oh, lidded kettle boil me water fast
I cannot live without your heated blast
Your spout is small but perfect for its use
And, as your lid is hinged. it can’t get lost

An electric kettle made by Russell Hobbs
A teapot with a spout and lid with knob
Are what the English need in times of storm
If crisis comes, we need tea hot,not warm

I don’t object to diverse kettle brands.
We had a coal fire   once  with  kettle stand.
Its  metal black from soot and burned by  coke
We made our neighbours tea which seemed to smoke.

Ah,kettle ,instrument of  civil life
We cannot boil our water on a knife.

And inside grace, an airy well lit space

On the other side of suffering there is peace
Whether by a death or such relief
I hate the moment when I start to fall.
Wish I lived inside a  stoney wall

Through the foaming river we must go
And embrace the  other we don’t want to  know.
Inside a hermit’s cell there may be grace
And inside grace, an airy well lit space.

For me, it is the river and  its deeps
I have to journey, even as I weep.
But, if for you, it is the tiny cell,
Therein your soul will comfortably dwell.

For  different souls have different ways to take.
God is as generous as a  the  world he makes.

Poetry writing tips by John Hewitt

 

p1000383

http://www.poewar.com/poetry-writing-tips/

 

“Listen to criticism and try to learn from it, but don’t live or die by it. When I was in college, I would always take my best reviewed poem from the previous class and submit it to the professor for the next class. Invariably, the next professor hated the poem, and could provide good reasons why it failed.

When you write a good poem, one you really like, immediately write another. Maybe that one poem was your peak for the night, bit maybe you’re on a roll. There’s only one way to find out.

The bigger your theme, the more important the details are. A poem with Love, DestinyHate or other huge themes in the title already has two strikes against it (and I like love poems).

Say what you want to say. Let your readers decide what your poem means.

Feel free to write a bad poem.”

How to take off in poetry

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Poetry 101: Getting Started

“In a recent Newsweek article, “Poetry is Dead. Does Anybody Really Care?”, Bruce Wexler wrote, “”Poetry” is the only art form where the number of people creating it is far greater than the number of people appreciating it. Anyone can write a bad poem.” Oh, so true. When I was hosting a poetry forum and chat, this is the thing that bugged me most about the so-called poets who posted and chatted there. They didn’t read poetry, which meant they had only a vague idea what a poem was, let alone a good poem. Few owned a book of poetry and most were hard-pressed to name a living poet.I simply don’t understand this. Why would anyone want to write in a genre they don’t enjoy reading? Who’s ever heard of a mystery writer who doesn’t read mysteries?

If you want to have any sort of credibility as a poet, you must read poetry. Hokey verses in greeting cards don’t count. Focus on contemporary poetry, just as you’d read contemporary novels if you were a fiction writer. Many would-be poets, if they read anything at all, seem to stick exclusively to classics. I surmise this is because most pre-twentieth century poetry rhymes, and they see rhyming poetry as being “real” poetry. Reality is, poetry is comprised of many elements; rhyme is but one.

A good place to start is Poetry Daily, which features a new poem every day, culled from literary journals. Many literary journals have online versions, some featuring excerpts from the latest issue. We have an extensive listing of journals at Mustard & Cress. You can find print versions in the magazine section of most bookstores (keep in mind that most lit mags have small circulations, so which ones are available will depend on where you live).