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Quote by KieraQuote by gael
I Am enjoying Cal and Kiera's Series.
I am thanking you, Cal and I are so pleased you enjoyed them as we had lots of fun writing them.
I am really freaked out over the last gif ginger posted on my wall lol it's bizarre.
I am hoping Welshdreamer feels better soon.
I am enjoying Ginger's last gif in Kiera's wall about kisses. That gif is funny and the girl is so sexy.
Nothing to thank me for, Kiera. I hope you and Cal keep writing and sharing with us. Enjoy week
Quote by rolandlytleQuote by Welshdreamer42
I think good poetry, especially in blank verse, is incredibly hard to pull off. I struggle with it. However, I also think there's a place for 'throw away' poetry with no deeper meaning other than pure entertainment value. I love poems by Pam Ayres and Spike Milligan which are totally flippant but make me smile. That's important.
Variety. That's the key, isn't it? How boring if there was only one way to write poetry.
I totally agree with Helen here.
I have written both and find them all equally enjoyable.
Frankly I do get a little weary of the same types of poems, one after another. On here it seems to be true love, heartbreak, and self loathing that makes up 75% or more of the poems. I understand why these topics are popular, but there seems so little of anything else.
On the bright side, I have noticed an increase in humorous/satirical poetry lately.
I am particularly interested in narrative verse and ballads, and I have been thinking for some time that it ought to be possible to put stories and poems into a major and minor genre — eg Poetry, Narrative or Poetry, Humorous.
Quote by LarryFNighThe following is a quote from Wikipedia concerning blank verse. It is illuminating for anyone who uses blank verse to create poetry.
Blank verse is poetry written in regular metrical but unrhymed lines, almost always iambic pentameters.[1
It has been described as "probably the most common and influential form that English poetry has taken since the 16th century"[2] and Paul Fussell has estimated that "about three-quarters of all English poetry is in blank verse."[3]
Anyone writing in blank verse is among some of the greatest English language poets of the past 400 years.
I was listening to a programme on radio recently (I almost said the wireless) that suggested that iambic (a short syllable followed by a long syllable with the stress on the second long syllable) is the natural metre of English speech, not just poetry. Although much English poetry has a line length of 5 iambs, ie. 10 syllables, this is not a universal rule, so in ballad poetry such as the Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner, a line of iambic pentameter is followed by one of iambs trimeter. Interestingly I find it more natural to write lines of 12 or 14 syllables.
Not all blank verse is regular in metre. This is particularly true of Wordsworth who is among my top five most admired and loved poets. He did write poems with a regular number of syllables per line as in Upon Westminster Bridge, although it is debatable if this should be described as iambic pentameter since to a natural UK English speaker the stresses in each line do not all fall on the second syllable of each pair — so in the first line "Earth has not anything to show more fair" the stresses are on Earth and show, and the other syllables are evenly stressed. Try reading it with stress on the second syllable of the line and the meaning is completely different. This is important as the way a line is stressed actually creates the meaning, which is why public reading of any passage from the Bible is an act of interpretation. To return to Wordsworth, in one of his greatest poems Ode:Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood, there is no discernible metrical pattern at all.
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy,
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,
He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east
Must travel, still is Nature's priest,
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.
If we let kindness win, then we all will be blessed
And we can put all pain and anger at long last to rest
Look to the future with hope restored to our hearts
And watch with relief as hatred and nastiness departs
This may be a dream, unrealistic some might say
Yet, if we all pull together it could happen one day
If the will is strong enough to bring about this great change
Nobody could think it outrageous or so strange
To have dreams on a global scale geared toward one outcome:
Love peace, joy, health and happiness for every single one.
And we can put all pain and anger at long last to rest
Look to the future with hope restored to our hearts
And watch with relief as hatred and nastiness departs
This may be a dream, unrealistic some might say
Yet, if we all pull together it could happen one day
If the will is strong enough to bring about this great change
Nobody could think it outrageous or so strange
To have dreams on a global scale geared toward one outcome:
Love peace, joy, health and happiness for every single one.
