An Old Love Poem

When I was growing up, there was a plaque on the dining room wall that had dried flowers surrounding a bit of cursive writing. The poem was called The Rose. I asked my parents about it and my mother told me that, on the day of her and my fathers wedding, my fathers friend had given it to them as a wedding gift. My mother had always thought that his friend had had a bit of a crush on her and was a bit saddened when she went and married my father. It was my favorite poem for several years especially since it goes hand in hand with my fondness for flowers.

The Rose

A single rose
to you I give
And no one else today
This rose I hope
Will make you smile
As you go on your way

A single rose
So nice indeed
I hope will make your day
To show my love
Is strong for you
No matter what others say

Yet we know
This rose will wilt too soon
It will not last forever
But my love for you
The love between us
I hope nothing will sever

So take this rose today
Do think of me and smile
This rose will wilt, we know
But I will stay a while.

A Bit of Research on Language Poetry

During the 1930s to the 1950s, the Black Mountain College began experimenting with a new method for education; stressing greater importance on the arts. The theory was that it was essential for human understanding, when combined with technical and analytical skills as well. Charles Olson, one of the teachers at the college for a few years, came up with the term "projective verse", in which they stressed more importance in the process of a poem as apposed to the final product. Similar to modern art, this would create a lot of works that seemed to lack a description or reason, but would allow the creator to be spontaneous and not become chained down by the rules of language. Without being chained down by the rules and boundaries of the language, poets would be free to express themselves. This would all eventually lead up to the development of the Language school of poetry.

Language poetry (also referred to as L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E P=O=E=T=R=Y, if you have the time to type that out) was a movement that was developed in the 1970s that would place greater emphasis on language of the poem. In other words, rather then the poet trying to find the words to get across their idea, they would instead use words that would create their own meaning. Poets would not have to concern themselves with whether or not the words they were using would get the message across, but instead finding words that can be given new meanings. This would get the reader more involved in the writing, as humans are typically always looking for meaning or patterns in whatever they are involved in, they begin to find new ways to approach the poem so that they can give it meaning. This, in turn, would create more interest in the structure and rules of the language and how rearranging them can change how ideas are represented, formulated and transmited. This, in it's own way, was a revolution against the social polictical structure that was currently in place for the English language and would result in causing the reader to begin to see text of any type in a new light. They could see pass the definitions that were already enforced and see a new way in which the words can be interpreted.

Charles Bernstein is a poet, an essayist, and a literary scholar and is known for being one of the editors for the magazine L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E which was condsidered the starting point for Language Poetry. He has written several poems that are good examples of what Language poetry is. His poem thinkingi think i think when first read, seems to be like taking a glimspse inside a mans head; the thoughts have little to no connections with eachother and they ranch in topics from what seems to be sports headlines to snippets from books. When first reading through it, the reader will be at first, completely confused and the more they try to break down the meaning or the purpose of the poem, the more frustrating it becomes. They could try reading the first letter of every line only, reading only every other line, cutting the paper into bits and rearranging them into shapes to see if this has been some simple trick, but with any new modern art, part of the meaning can be derived from how the poem was created in the first place. In an interview with Bradford Senning, Bernstein can be quoted for saying "I want to engage the materials of the culture, derange them as they have deranged me, sound them out, as they have sounded me out." Many of Bernsteins poems, such as DearMr. Fanelli or ATest of Poetry deal with the modern world and include text that have been take from our time from places such as official documents, advertisements, articles etc. and set them up in a way that makes it seem surreal to the reader and causes them to ask questions and really think about what they have just read. In this way, Language poetry does not focus on any meaning that the writer may have been trying to get across, but instead, causes the reader to become more engaged with the text they are reading and use the words that are there to create their own meaning.

Other Language poets including Michael Palmer, Rae Armantrout and Susan Howe, also feature poems that do not seem to follow a purpose or narrative. Susan Howes poem, from Cabbage Gardenshas been interpreted in various ways; being about an individual seeking guidance, a battle by the edge of the sea or even the poet remeniscing about days gone by. Neither of these interpretations are considered wrong, and the wonderful thing about Language Poetry is it's ability to bring forth the imagination of the reader. Though most conclude that it makes no sense and is complete nonesense, readers are still able to gleam a bit of meaning on their own thus proving that the poet does not need to concern themselves in finding words to create meaning, but instead trust that meaning can be gleamed from the words that are given.

All in all, Language poetry has had an immense influence not only in the poetry world, but in the day to day lives of any person. They do not need to be professional poets or even have a lot of experience with the English language. Language poetry can be seen with all sorts of different meanings and they can still be considered correct. It does not focus on the meaning that should be there, but instead, the meaning that could exist. By ignoring the model for creating narratives, Language poets have discovered new ways in which to engage the reader. They have shown that meaning can be gleamed from something that did not seem or intended to have, meaning before. Language Poetry brings out deeper meaning from our language and allows any reader to see the world from a new perspective.

Works Cited

"A Brief Guide to Language Poetry." Poets.org. Academy of American Poets, n.d. Web. 05 Nov. 2013.

"Charles Bernstein." : The Poetry Foundation. N.p., n.d. Web. 05 Nov. 2013.

"Glossary Terms." Language Poetry : Glossary Term : Learning Lab : The Poetry Foundation. N.p., n.d. Web. 05 Nov. 2013.

"Poetry Previews: Language Poetry." Poetry Previews: Language Poetry. N.p., n.d. Web. 05 Nov. 2013.

Poets who use Technology

Shane Koyczan

Animation has been around for quite a while, ever since artists discovered that they can make their drawings appear to move by creating more drawings in slightly different poses. Animation, as an art, is important in that it can move like a film, but look like a painting allowing artists to not be restricted by laws of physics or lack of funds to make everything CG. Shane Koyczan is not an animator, but a few of his works have featured animation done by fellow artists who help to establish mood and emphasize certain aspects of the poem. Coupled with the poets own voice, this creates an experience that can be very powerful as it appeals to both the visual and audio senses of the viewer as opposed to them simply reading the poem in whatever voice they think fits. An example of this would be his poem To This Day. With the use of animation and the sound recording technology of today, poets like Koyczan no longer have to rely on spacing of their words but, instead, show the viewer what the poet himself feels and sees.

Kenneth Patchen

Paint has been used as an artistic medium for several centuries. Originally, paint was made through the grinding of minerals which would be combined with oils to make, what is known today, as oil paints. The process of creating paint is time consuming and often dangerous as the dust from the minerals could cause a variety of health issues. Around the 1930's acrylic paints, which are primarily water based paints, were being developed. Water based paints were more practical as they did not dry as fast and could be modified easily just by adding water. During the 1930's, Kenneth Patchen was an American poet who often incorporated various media to create his work. Jazz music, drawings and even paints were used that would catch a person’s eye. By using paint, Patchen was able to be more expressive with his poetry and, therefore, give it more life. His poem An Interview with the Floating Man features blocks of text that are separated with what appears to be shapes of animals, as if the animals are characters in this poem.

Anatol Knotek

The typewriter was an incredibly important invention for poets as it allowed them to space words and phrases evenly without requiring them to spend vast amounts of time measuring. It also allowed to explore new creative possibilities. With the invention of the computer, these possibilities of increased tenfold. The poet can now warp words, shrink letters, change fonts, colours etc. all with a click of the mouse. Anatol Knotek is an Austrian artist who creates poetry through the use of a typewriter, newspaper clippings and computer programs that are able to manipulate text. With the computer, he can create clean, precise images and still be able to make changes very easily. His poem Countdown, for example, would be difficult to create several decades before as it would take up a lot of time to make something that may not even work. With the use of computers, it opens up new ways to explore how words can be manipulated and can inspire poets to try new things.

Stephanie Strickland

Originally created so that universities could communicate with each other, the internet has spread throughout the world allowing people to access information in no time. Many people create websites of their own when they have information of their own that they want to share with others. Stephanie Stickland, like many artists of today, has her own website which features not only information about her, but also her poems. Unlike some poets, Strickland, with the help of a programmer, creates poems that not only feature visuals and sounds, but are also interactive. Many of these poems were created before the creation of many mainstream video players such as Youtube, so being able to have visuals, sounds and still have the capability to pause and got back at certain points, was the best thing at the time. Stickland could set a mood easily with the visuals and sounds without the reader having to go through most of the poem to find out what the mood is. Errand Upon Which We Came, has visuals of flowers and butterflies as well as the sounds of birds which creates a calm and relaxing mood.

Genco Gulan

QR codes have been around since the smartphone became popular. QR codes store information that, when scanned by a smartphone, the user can read. This allows companies to create easy access points on advertisements so that passersby can go to the company’s website easily. Genco Gulan, a Turkish conceptual artist, created a poem using two letter words from different languages and then converted it into a QR code. As the artist believes in a feature that relies heavily on technology, this could represent how he believes that poetry will be presented in the future; as a tiny square that can be scanned on the go. (And since I don't have a smartphone, I don’t know what the poem says or if it has anything to do with the fact that it is contained in a QR code)

Poets sharing Poets

Found an article through a link of a fellow poetry blogger that I found interesting. Some of the readers of Robert Brewers blog were challenged to find a couple of poetry collections that they personally enjoyed. One such example  posted by Jessie Carty gives us a couple of poetry collection books that she found fun to read or even inspiring. I always like to see what other artists are inspired by cause it gives you a glimpse into how they approach their own art.

Poetry in Transit

If anyone has taken the TTC buses before and has managed to get a look over the heads of fellow commuters to read the advertisements, you may have noticed a poem. These are not just random poems that just so happen to have been plastered where a McDonalds advertisement should have been, but poems that have been written by world renowned, Canadian poets. In partnership with the League of Canadian Poets, Pattison Outdoor Advertising has reintroduced a concept that was started in 1996 where poems are featured in various public transit areas. This helps bring awareness for the various poets that exist today and can give the commuter something to do other then trying to avoid making eye contact with other people. If you want to learn more about this then I suggest you check out the link here . Or just hop onto the next TTC bus and check out some poetry.

Poems from Tumblr

Though I tend to use my tumblr account mostly for drawings,pictures or other random visuals, a poem does  happen to pop up on my dashboard once in a while. I thought I'd share the two I came across the last month cause I like them for their intensity.

http://lexysama.tumblr.com/post/65507408936/sweaty-goddess-buttonpoetry-rachel-wiley

http://ladyzolstice.tumblr.com/post/62712154284/ishipthat-shanwaters-archiescrush

Poem Recording

Sick people should not do recordings of their voices. I realized this last week after the 10th attempt of me reading a poem resulted in tears as I listened to the nasally sound of my stuffed up voice. No matter how hard you try to cover up the sniffling, you can still hear the reader choking on their on phelm.

So, after a few days of popping pills and sleeping, I managed to take back my voice and record me reading one of my favourite poems as a child, Annabelle Lee by Edgar Allan Poe. I tried to read it with my energy at first, but then I got horribly embarrassed and settled with being mediocre.

Here it is! https://soundcloud.com/acadicus/annabelle-lee

Ipad Poetry

So me and two of my buds headed down to our school library the other day to check out the Ipad mini's which they were lending out to us. However, these weren't just any Ipad mini's these ones featured mainly poetry apps. And I thought to myself

What sort of applications could you possibly make that involve poetry. I mean, you just need some word processing program and you're basically good to go. But they had some interesting things on there.

The three that stood out to me were
Visual Poetry: Basically, you type out your poem and them it takes it and shapes the verses into whatever shape you want followed by you fiddling around with the colour. It's cool if you want something artsy or a poster type of thing, but you have to actually have a poem in mind beforehand. Me and my friend tried to make a poem. But it isn't the type of poem that should pop up on a poetry blog so I shall not share.

Migration: No poetry writing here. The poem is already made. I didn't catch the name of the author but I bet he's a pretty cool guy. In this app, each verse of the poem is shaped into a jellyfish and they float around the screen. If you drag one around, the words it contains, start flaking off and you can read bits and pieces of the poem at your leisure. It's fun to play with and it kinda forces you to analyze the poem in fragments.

Verse Poetry: I really liked this one. Now verse poetry (from what I remember from my Grade 11 creative writing class) is where you take words that you like from various magazines,books,newspapers, what have you, and you cut them out to try and make a poem. In this app, random words are given to you to use. You can pick different sources, like words that have something to do with medieval Europe or something, and then move them around to form your own poem. Me and my friends spent most of our time using this app and each of us took turns making a poem from the same set of letters. Mine goes:
Sunny eyes watching
Your sorrows commotion
Grinning, then hoping
these to the fallen

So pro, I should totally just ditch art and head straight for freelance poetry. That's where all the money is made. You can check out my other friend's poem at her blog here: http://technopoetree.blogspot.ca/

Silliman's Blog-Jack Kerouac

Silliman seems to be the go to guy when it comes to contemporary poetry. Of course, I making a very broad assumption since I'm not really in the contemporary poetry scene. Nevertheless, when clicking around, I saw that he had some of his posts tagged as "Beat Poetry". What is beat poetry? Well, I thought it had to do with the beating of the drum, or something similar. That the poetry was written or read in a way so that it seemed to have a beat. Upon a quick Google search, I was informed that beat poetry refers to the beat generation of the 1950's in which a group of American writers rejected mainstream values and experimented with drugs and alcohol to increase their interests intellectually.

Silliman posts a little video regarding a book about Jack Kerouac who was an important figure in the beat generation. Seen as someone who was able to take something ordinary, and see it in a different light. He was able to see thing, hear things, and feels things in ways others could not, and describe them in his own poetry. The anti-mainstream America topic is also fairly prominent when reading one of his poems.

Bus East

by: Jack Kerouac

Society has good intentions Bureaucracy is like a friend
5 years ago - other furies other losses -

America's
trying to control the uncontrollable Forest fires, Vice

The essential smile In the essential sleep Of the children Of the essential mind

I'm
all thru playing the American
Now I'm going to live a good quiet life

The
world should be built for foot walkers

Oily
rivers Of spiney Nevady

I
am Jake Cake
Rake
Write like Blake

The
horse is not pleased Sight of his
gorgeous finery
in the dust Its silken
nostrils
did disgust

Cats
arent kind Kiddies anent sweet

April
in Nevada - Investigating Dismal Cheyenne Where the war parties
In fields
of straw
Aimed over oxen At Indian Chiefs
In wild headdress Pouring thru
the gap
In Wyoming plain
To make the settlers
Eat more dust than dust
was eaten In the States From East at Seacoast Where wagons made up To dreadful
Plains
Of clazer vup

Saltry
settlers
Anxious to masturbate The Mongol Sea (I'm too tired in Cheyenne -
No sleep in 4 nights now, & 2 to go) 

Bacteria Poetry

My knowledge of science is limited to elementary school projects regarding beans. If it's not about a bean sprouting, then it is out of my field of knowledge. So you must understand that when this article talks about a man by the name of Christian Bok taking a bacteria and encoding a poem into it's genome so that it can create another poem (or whatever it is doing), I'll probably have very little to say on the topic. From what I read, the point of the experiment is to take a poem that he has created, encode it into the bacteria and then see if they (the bacteria) can create their own poem through the manufacturing of proteins. He uses a computer program to decipher....stuff.....and from there I just get completely lost. 

 In my mind, this guy is teaching bacteria how to make poems so that they can infect other bacteria with poetry which then can later infect larger organisms with poetry to the point that a human baby will be able to recite a poem as soon as it's born. If that is the case, then that sounds awesome. 

But I'm probably wrong.

 Hence why I am in an art program and not in anything related to science. 

Opinions on Random Poems

[as freedom is a breakfastfood]

BY E. E. CUMMINGS

as freedom is a breakfastfood

or truth can live with right and wrong

or molehills are from mountains made

—long enough and just so long

will being pay the rent of seem

and genius please the talentgang

and water most encourage flame

as hatracks into peachtrees grow

or hopes dance best on bald men’s hair

and every finger is a toe

and any courage is a fear

—long enough and just so long

will the impure think all things pure

and hornets wail by children stung

or as the seeing are the blind

and robins never welcome spring

nor flatfolk prove their world is round

nor dingsters die at break of dong

and common’s rare and millstones float

—long enough and just so long

tomorrow will not be too late

worms are the words but joy’s the voice

down shall go which and up come who 

breasts will be breasts thighs will be thighs

deeds cannot dream what dreams can do

—time is a tree(this life one leaf)

but love is the sky and i am for you

just so long and long enough

[as freedom is a breakfast food] is, sadly, not about breakfast foods. Or food in general. From my perspective, the poem seems to be about things that are the opposite of what they are (or that seem to have nothing to do with each other, like freedom and breakfast) and it makes you think about the way we perceive  ideas. The last stanza, however, makes me think that it is a love poem, but I think it would be easier to understand the poem if I knew the context. Despite it tricking me into thinking about food, I enjoy this poem because it is quite engaging. 

This poem, however, I'm fairly sure is a love poem.....

[love is more thicker than forget]

BY E. E. CUMMINGS

love is more thicker than forget

more thinner than recall

more seldom than a wave is wet

more frequent than to fail

it is most mad and moonly

and less it shall unbe

than all the sea which only

is deeper than the sea

love is less always than to win

less never than alive

less bigger than the least begin

less littler than forgive

it is most sane and sunly

and more it cannot die

than all the sky which only

is higher than the sky

The definition of love is one of the more difficult emotions to describe. Cummings attempts to describe the emotion of love by comparing it to feelings,objects,places etc. that we are already familiar with. Since the order of the word confuses me to no end, I can't say for sure that I completely understand what love is, by the poet's description, it seems to be something nice.

from Cabbage Gardens

BY SUSAN HOWE

The past

will overtake   

alien force   

our house   

formed

of my mind   

to enter

explorer

in a forest   

of myself

for all

my learning   

Solitude

quiet

and quieter   

fringe

of trees

by a river

bridges black   

on the deep   

the heaving sea   

a watcher stands

to see her ship   

winging away   

Thick noises

merge in moonlight   

dark ripples   

dissolving

and

defining

spheres

and

snares

             Place of importance as in the old days

stood on the ramparts of the fort

                                                 the open sea outside   

alone with water-birds and cattle

                        knee-deep in a stream

grove of reeds

               herons watching from the bank

henges

      whole fields honeycombed with souterrains   

human

                        bones through the gloom

       whose sudden mouth

surrounded my face

                      a thread of blue around the coast   

                                                         feathery moon   

eternity swallows up time

                                     peaceable as foam

                        O cabbage gardens

summer’s elegy

                        sunset survived

The word "alien force" made me automatically think about an invasion, not necessarily by extraterrestrials. The battle seems to be going on from the sea, but it has moved onto land as well, and the cabbage garden, the title of the poem, seems to represent a place of peace or the time before the war. The shorter lines increases the pace of the poem which I think is interesting.

from Hinge Picture

BY SUSAN HOWE

“Crawl in,” said the witch, “and see if it’s hot enough to put the bread in.”
—Hansel and Gretel

All roads lead to rooms. —Irish Proverb

a stark

                  Quake

               a numb

                  Calm

                      *

               clutching my Crumbl

               ejumble

                  among

               Tombs and

               in Caves

                  my

                Dream

                Vision

               Oarsman, oarsman,

                  Where have you been?

               I’ve been to Leafy,

               I’ve dismembered the Queen.

               Oarsman, oarsman

                  What did you there?

               I hid in a cleft,

               I braided the air.

hearing our oars where their freed goatsteps sped   

and are silent

by an extinct river

O Babylon when I lay down

alert for sliding cataracts

where in corridors the print of dancing feet   

beyond poise I am prey

posing in snow-light

being of human form

clothed in the scales of a fish

Count him a magician

he controls the storm

walked on the sea shouting   

that he is the Logos of God

that he is the Word original and first begotten

attended by power

upheld by his mother

(a very active gesturing baby)   

what if Simon Peter Jesus himself   

walked among the cold stone faces

shouting NIKA

emptyeyed blanksmiling

                            Swiftness divination these false gods

                            their commerce is the cloud

                            so they can learn what is preparing in the sky   

                            Artificer of the universe

                            Magician who controls the storm

                            to see you in one spot

                            I count the clouds others count the seasons   

                            Dreaming of archipelagos and the desert   

                            I have lived through weeks of years

                            I have raked up fallen leaves for winter   

                            after winter across an empire of icy light

Light of our dark is the fruit of my womb

or night falling through the reign of splashes   

Liquid light that bathes the landscape in my figure   

Clairvoyant Ireland

eras and eras encircled by sea

the barrows of my ancestors have spilled their bones   

across the singing ear in hear or shell   

as wreck or wrack may be in daring   

There were giants on the earth in those days   

feasts then on hill and fort

All night the borders of my bed

carve paths across my face

and I always forget to leave my address   

frightened by the way that midnight

grips my palm and tells me that my lines   

are slipping out of question

Divorce I manumission round

with a gentle blow the casting branch

my right hand My covenant

was garment concealed or mask or matron

Proceed with measured step   

the field and action of the law   

Like day the tables twelve   

whip torch and radiate halo   

Sky brewing coming storm   

Faraway over the hill

when Hell was harrowed

and earth was brought to heel   

how the hills spread away   

how the walls crumbled   

deathcolored frozen in time

Where was the senate   zone and horizon

Where are the people   mountain of light to the east   

Tell them I sail for the deep sea rest

a painless extraction a joyful day   

bird of passage over all I love   

Goodbye to all the little fir trees   

of the future

               far   off    in    the    dread

               blindness    I   heard   light

               eagerly   I   struck   my foot

               against    a      stone      and

               raised    a    din    at    the

               sound    the   blessed    Paul

               shut   the   door   which   had

               been   open   and   bolted   it

Intially, I thought this poem would be a like an epic; telling the story of a man who thought he was stronger then Gods. But towards the middle I got completely lost as it seemed to deviate to something different. I enjoyed the pacing of the poem, however, where it starts off slow and builds to the chorus before slowing down again. I may not know what it's supposed to mean, but I'm assuming the middle part was probably the most important part.

Seasons of the Heart by Linton Kwesi Johnson

Beguiled by blue moon
Oh, enchanting light
We lost our way like lovers sometimes do
Searching, wide-eyed, for wild flowers
In the fragrant forest of the night

Now memories slowly drift on by
Like grey clouds against the somber Winter sky
And all our yesterdays are now become
The Springtime of our days

Life is the greatest teacher
Love is the lesson to be learned
Like how the heart’s seasons shift
How the sweet smelling blossoms of Spring
Are soon become the icy arrows of Winter’s sting

How Spring, intoxicated by the sun
Now throws off her green gown
And Summer’s golden smile is soon become
The frown of Autumn’s brown

How passions spent
We droop, like sapless vines
In the Winter of our minds

 Another poem attempting to describe love, this time describing the falling in and out of love with the seasons. A lot more straightforward then the other poems I've just read, it makes it easier to understand the message of the poem when you don't have to spend several hours researching what the poet was really talking about. Since Spring is widely considered to be rebirth, or beginnings, the poet obviously starts the description of the first feelings of love with the description of spring. 

Yout Rebels by Linton Kwesi Johnson

I couldn't find the actual poem on the web and I'm too lazy to actually type it out SO you'll have to take my word for it. The poem is about the black youth who the poet feels will change their own futures in regards to racial discrimination. The way he writes and spell the words he uses, makes it sound like the way someone would speak, if they spoke like a Jamaican. The poem is fun to read, especially with a group of people who think you are just being weird and purposely trying to do an accent.