World Poetry Day

[Lauren Hynde]

This should be at least as big as π Day.

Today, the 21st of March, is World Poetry Day, as has been since 1999, when it was declared by UNESCO. Its purpose is to promote the reading, writing, publishing and teaching of poetry throughout the world and to "give fresh recognition and impetus to national, regional and international poetry movements."

What have you done today to celebrate the thing that unites us all (other than the fact that we're all pornsite-posting perverts)?



PS: UNESCO created a site, the World Poetry Directory, which provides links (when available) and lists of festivals, prizes, journals and associations devoted to poetry from all around the world, particularly focused on what is happening today. It might be cool to check it out.

 

[CharleyH]

This should be at least as big as π Day.

Today, the 21st of March, is World Poetry Day, as has been since 1999, when it was declared by UNESCO. Its purpose is to promote the reading, writing, publishing and teaching of poetry throughout the world and to "give fresh recognition and impetus to national, regional and international poetry movements."

What have you done today to celebrate the thing that unites us all (other than the fact that we're all pornsite-posting perverts)?

Well, it just so happens that today I heard a pornstar named Brittany Andrews read a foot fetish poem. Anyone ever heard Fran Drescher read? Well, it came mighty close! lol

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Well, it just so happens that today I heard a pornstar named Brittany Andrews read a foot fetish poem. Anyone ever heard Fran Drescher read? Well, it came mighty close! lol

So, basically, you went one step beyond and found something that celebrates both things that unite us all.

 

[Lauren Hynde]

What have you done today to celebrate the thing that unites us all (other than the fact that we're all pornsite-posting perverts)?

I wrote this:


Poetry

You ask more certainty from poetry
and you're right to ask what all have learned to ask
because if we don't advance with precision
then, as you said, we don't know where to we're going
and without knowing where to we're going
we cannot ever arrive
ignoring what place it is
to where we started our stride.

You ask more clearness from poetry
and you're right to yearn for leaving the panic of nights
because if we don't celebrate the day
then, as it's been suggested, we don't deserve notice above
and without the protection of language above
the destination becomes cursed
even if it's true that it confuses you
that this stanza resumes the rhythm of the first.

You crave a poetry without masks
and you're right to protest against all the lies
because if we don't present ourselves in truth
then, as we well know, we devalue even the poet
and it's enough that even one poet
called Robert Allen Zimmerman
signs Bob Dylan and doesn't stop doing it
- what the fuck does that mean, man?

You demand more rigour from poetry
and you're right to celebrate the light of sciences
because if we don't offer ourselves to learning
then, as all know, we'll be pariahs without face
and while disaggregates the face
it is threatened home and identity
and everything that in them assures us
the right to walk freely around the city.

You like a poetry that doesn't disillusion you
and you're right to fight the growing sadness
because if the whole world is depressed
then, as they asked, we'll organise parties
and busy and cheerful with parties
we'll wear diamond rings
and laugh at the slaughter of bulls
crawling in bloody pools of shiny things.


Forgive me for not following you
in celebrating the proper way
but my gods are bastard whores
in a poem born of disarray.

That corpse is you -
is what the poetry proclaims
you may even call it by name
but you can't make it rhyme.

 

[CharleyH]

So, basically, you went one step beyond and found something that celebrates both things that unite us all.

Basically - lol - Although, I wouldn't call a voice like Fran Drescher's as essentially poetic, nor erotic for that matter, yet it was a bold move on the part of a porn star.

Love your poem by the way. Somewhat personal like a summation about how you, yourself write and what you appreciate in poetry. I particularly enjoy the thumb from your nose approach and have always enjoyed people who tell people to go fuck themselves without ever saying it. It reminds me of a music interviewer I once saw (Sook Yin Lee) who did the same thing without saying it to Massive Attack in regards to music or perhaps just words. The Dylan reference suits the rebellious attitude inherant in the tone of your poem and I find it a brilliant and sly, clever piece done with obvious finesse, yet, this is of course, only my first reading ... so.

 

[Liar]

World Poetry Day? How droll,
give me a World Poetry Night,
where words can roll
like red wine droplets
down the necks of lovers.

There we battle sleep with stanzas,
stab AM charlatans with pens,
and tattoo your ink into
their unwritten parchment.

There we snarl slam, and slam
eachother against what's solid,
thrust imagery deep into
wordless connections.

There we curl up in a final strophe,
awaiting dawn.

 

[wildsweetone]

Poetry is for Purple Pansies
...not Red Roses

We breed 'em tough
down here. Tough
enough to take the blade
of a rusted razor
to their wrists, to slash
the skin until the blood
leaks through to stain
the sheets and soak
a white rag bandage.
He wont pick up a pen
and pour poetry
on to empty pages.
He'd rather watch
the blood drip,
rather feel the pain
and poetry be damned.




The History of an Hour

Vain is the wish to try rhyming it, writing it!
Pen cannot weld into words what it was;
Time will be squandered in toil at inditing it;
...Clear is the cause!

Yea, 'twas too satiate with soul, too ethereal;
June-morning scents of a rose-bush in flower
Catch in a clap-net of hempen material;
...So catch that hour!

by Thomas Hardy