Comments on: Joanna Lumley criticises modern poetry

By: Donald Avery

Donald Avery — Sat, 01 Nov 2008 15:56:27 +0000

ARS

Joanna Lumley,
surveying glumly
the state of ars poetica, felt
entitled to tell it like it smelt.

By: Benjamin Watts

Benjamin Watts — Wed, 03 Sep 2008 16:35:46 +0000

Ian McMillan comment, “You shouldn’t be able to get poems on the first reading,” really frustrated me. I think that’s absurd, why shouldn’t we be able to “get” poetry the first time we read it? What’s wrong with reading a pome, understanding and enjoying it and moving on? It’s people, like this, who believe that in order to appreciate poetry you have to spend time analyzing and trying to interpret the meaning of the works, that are ruining it for others.

By: John Gunderson

John Gunderson — Wed, 06 Aug 2008 14:51:58 +0000

Poets Laureate

I’ve read some poetry by Billy Collins,
a national laureate.

He complains of some poet’s accomplishments, rambles on about regrets.

I’ve read some Donald Hall, just as self-indulgent;
seems to have more breadth.

Then there is a woman I simply choose to forget.
Spouting on about revealing, I wish she’d just stay dressed.

Poetry for poets, I truly must confess,
sounds a bit cannibalistic.

Perhaps it is the best.

By: Edward

Edward — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 19:13:36 +0000

Larry, you make some very valid points. I would say, like in contemporary art, there is a danger of poetry loosing the very heart of what it is.

Thanks for your comment.

By: Larry Randolph - Indianola, Nebraska USA

Larry Randolph - Indianola, Nebraska USA — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 01:10:53 +0000

Joanna Lumley is correct from my vantage point. Those stuffy old farts write their poetry for themselves and no one else. They say things like we need to educate the people for them to appreciate it but that really means those uneducated masses are too stupid to understand it. It seems to me the new poets are elitists that are always praising their own people. I try to read their crap and if they don’t give you a story line and tell you what it’s about they usually don’t make any sense. It’s more like broken thoughts combined with jiberish. “The tree it moved. And the wind like an invisible hand caressed it’s branches, bending them into the afternoon sun but it was all for naught as the western pine beetle layed it’s eggs on it and then it’s babies ate the poor tree for sustenance” See what I mean, crap like that. Thanks. LR