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Thread: In your own words what is poetry?

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    confidentially pleased cacian's Avatar
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    Lightbulb In your own words what is poetry?

    it seems easy yet it may well maybe complex to group words together to bring a sense of belonging when books are simply too long.

    your turn.
    it may never try
    but when it does it sigh
    it is just that
    good
    it fly

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    Registered User tailor STATELY's Avatar
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    A cathartic outlet
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    Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
    tailor
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    who am I but a stitch in time
    what if I were to bare my soul
    would you see me origami

    7-8-2015

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    Voice of Chaos & Anarchy
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    When it comes to poetry, I am old faashioned, and it is a form of verbal expression that is easy to remember.

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    On the road, but not! Danik 2016's Avatar
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    Meaningful words dancing and chanting in a compact box.
    "I seemed to have sensed also from an early age that some of my experiences as a reader would change me more as a person than would many an event in the world where I sat and read. "
    Gerald Murnane, Tamarisk Row

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    On the road, but not! Danik 2016's Avatar
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    The Art Of Poetry by Jorge Luis Borges

    To gaze at a river made of time and water
    And remember Time is another river.
    To know we stray like a river
    and our faces vanish like water.

    To feel that waking is another dream
    that dreams of not dreaming and that the death
    we fear in our bones is the death
    that every night we call a dream.

    To see in every day and year a symbol
    of all the days of man and his years,
    and convert the outrage of the years
    into a music, a sound, and a symbol.

    To see in death a dream, in the sunset
    a golden sadness--such is poetry,
    humble and immortal, poetry,
    returning, like dawn and the sunset.

    Sometimes at evening there's a face
    that sees us from the deeps of a mirror.
    Art must be that sort of mirror,
    disclosing to each of us his face.

    They say Ulysses, wearied of wonders,
    wept with love on seeing Ithaca,
    humble and green. Art is that Ithaca,
    a green eternity, not wonders.

    Art is endless like a river flowing,
    passing, yet remaining, a mirror to the same
    inconstant Heraclitus, who is the same
    and yet another, like the river flowing.
    http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets...ges/poems/2913
    "I seemed to have sensed also from an early age that some of my experiences as a reader would change me more as a person than would many an event in the world where I sat and read. "
    Gerald Murnane, Tamarisk Row

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