poetry critical

online poetry workshop

a Mule testing the "moderator" yet again

video poem (visual poetry, link to video only)
*if you can't view video for whatever reason, please  just forget it and move along thank you*

27 Sep 08

Rated 1 (6) by 2 users.
Active (2):
Inactive (3): 1, 1, 7, 10, 10

(define the words in this poem)
(181 more poems by this author)

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you make this place just that much better
 — 1994

let this poem be!
 — unknown

Thank you folks for the votes, not such at the poem needs 'em but for the message they sent to the management, that this place is based on liberal thinking and relative freedom of speech, PARTICULARLY when it comes to forming or formatting a poem made from found materials.  

Thanks in particular to 1994 because I can thank her (signed in) in particular.
That was brave and cool if ever there was-is.   More was-is for PC.  Hooray!
Let Our People Live, to you too, thanks unk #1
 — netskyIam

keep your push, shove, butt and plug away from this poem, isabelleVIII
 — unknown

a curtsy to you, netsky, from me, nineteen nineday four. ;)
 — 1994

Thank you, 1994.   I know that many can't yet see videos on their computers.

The song: I had a copy of that cylinder thirty years ago. Eventually it got dropped and the wax cylinder broke into a jillion pieces.  It's a very rare recording; it did not sell many copies.  The other day I found a digital copy on the 'net.  Thirty years, I've thought about the double and triple subtleties of that song.  In an hour more, after finding the digital version, I'd selected found-images courtesy of google image search.
Windows Movie Maker and its timeline let  me arrange the images in sync with the lyric's many, many references.   Great surprise, I found by chance my own grandfather! He's the medial man in the upper left corner of the ship doctors' groupingA: that's PB.  It made sense later to let the picture go to black whilst Billy Murray (d. 1954) went on to ask a rhetorical question.  And then, as Gilbert's enigmatic Washington with his Mona Lisa smile comes forth again, he takes a tiny movement backward, as if in recoil from what he sees today in 2008.  That's the poem, and it is "found poetry", sonic and visual, instead of re-ordered print from paper bags or package flaps.  The poem is a sonic flap at us all.
 — netskyIam

where are the five users?
 — unknown

It's a dictatorship.
 — unknown

1994 is Netsky's mate from back home.
 — unknown

1994 is a girl.
 — 1994

thanks to all for looking in.  thanks to moderation for NOT suspending this poem link.

Again, sorry that so many folks do not have broadband and so cannot see viddies.
 — netskyIam

I raise this only to point out to you guys:  multimedia, computers, broadband, are the way of the future. Public poetry readings and silent, personal readings (aloud to yourself trains both your ear and your speaking voice) are going to be around forever.
However, video poems, blurrings of this and that, are going to be the Great White Hope for poetry's future.  Print poetry is dying because recent years have given people SO MANY other things to do.  Television.  Why go to the game and get wet?
Opera companies and symphonies are seeing their clientele die off, and young addict of live, classical music are fewer and fewer.  Rock music, live, amplified to ear-splitting levels, trump mind-numbing poesy to death.  WE must adapt, flex, to remain even slightly relevant.   A century ago, everyone read poetry, even if they did not much like a lot of it.  And there were many bad poets.  Today, tell a stranger:
"Oh, I am a poet in my spare time."  Watch them excuse themselves from your presence, unless the person is a male and you are a female with big breasts.

Adapt, sell the sizzle, mix it up.  THIS example is about as appealing as a print poem, but offers only the 'what if' factor, because society is no better today, in key ways, than it was one century ago.  YET no-one will much care for this found-video-song-image "poem".  I know that.  But I am not a master poet of the media.
YOUNGER minds, more in tune with the present, less fixated on the oddities of the past, will and do make great things today: they chalk art on sidewalks instead of writing poetry.  They spray-can art public walls instead of writing poetry.  They sing and shout and militate to be heard, understood, and respected.   Tell any of them that you are a straight-print poet: you may get a sneer, if not a black eye. Poetry today, straight poetry, is ONLY for the other poets, all frustrated because nobody cares for their work,,,,same nearly as one century ago.
 — netskyIam

Just unbalanced, violent emotion tied to love, as the psychologists might note.
 — unknown