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Upwardly Mobile Participant
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Sadly at my tender age of 20 I have yet to enjoy many of the authors cited here but, from my experience pound & eliot are both amazing. On the flip side I don't much care for walt whitman or dylan thomas (who are often cited as peoples favorites) I've yet to meet any such people.
"Broadcasting from the great plains"
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| Posts: 67 | Location: Canada | Registered: 16 February 2005 |    |
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Know-It-All
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I love Whitman and Dylan Thomas. But Wallace Stevens will forever trump them all.
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Jedi
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Poetry is the greatest thing in the world, after sex and staring at the ocean. Try reading Edwin Muir, just for a beginning if you are new to poetry. Dreamlike, eerie and muscular prose creating a world completely his own. i.e "The Horses" Too many poets, too little time. Just read. Just read.
'for my purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset, and the baths of all the western stars, until I die.'
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| Posts: 2155 | Location: The ever silent spaces of the East | Registered: 12 February 2007 |    |
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Know-It-All
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How about reading poetry while staring at the ocean?  I do love Pessoa (Saramago's The Year of the Death of Ricardo Reis is about Pessoa), Yeats, Keats, the Brownings, Robert Frost (I'm just beginning to realize what a true genius he was), Baudelaire, Pablo Neruda (a favorite), and so many others. I'm trying to learn to write Haiku, which I suppose is a different topic indeed.
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| Posts: 227 | Location: On the top of the hill, in the warmth of the sun | Registered: 02 March 2007 |    |
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Jedi
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Neruda's Canto General & The Heights of Machu Pichu are both wonderful collections. I agree with all the poets you list, and there are so many more, including William Blake, whose work is always with me wherever I go. A recent work which is in my all-time favourite works is Ted Hughes translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses. Imagery, strong imagery is my particular fancy with poetry, so I tend to not like a lot of conversational poesy.
'for my purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset, and the baths of all the western stars, until I die.'
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| Posts: 2155 | Location: The ever silent spaces of the East | Registered: 12 February 2007 |    |
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Participant
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INTRODUCTION TO THIS POETRY
I feel a strong connection with, a strong influence from, the poetry of Roger White. I find the famous literary critic Harold Bloom places my relationship as a poet with the poetry of White in a helpful perspective. The work of other poets, too, help to define my own work. And so I open this section with poems that describe and define some of these relationships. There is a strong introspective sense in this poetry and I have included here an interview which explores the 'phenomenological' orientation of my poetry, thus providing some sense of the philosophy underpinning my poetic narrative.
FLUID
What readers make of all this poetry, or some part of it, should they ever delve into it to any depth, will depend, of course, on how they focus and what they bring---what stories and plots and words from their own lives1---to their reading of what I see as an extended poetic narrative, an epic poem. Readers inevitably attribute meaning to words in quite personal ways. Words are themselves not fixed or definite in meaning; they are fluid and functional, not irrevocable things. The inferences, the meanings, behind this epic poem, now composed of nearly six thousand individual poems and two to three million words, can be drawn in so many different ways by both myself and the many readers who come to this oeuvre in the decades--and I like to think--centuries, ahead. For what is here are, as Virginia Woolf expressed it so beautifully, "flickerings of that innermost flame which flashes its myriad messages through the brain."2 -Ron Price with thanks to Marguerite Harkness, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man: Voices of the Text, Twayne Publishers, Boston, 1990, 1p.53 and 2p.13.
There's so much messiness,
stuff all over the place
that just keeps accumulating
as the years go by
adding up their days
relentlessly, unobtrusively,
obscurely, silently--
hardly worth recording--
probably wouldn't
if I was more interested
in gardening, or art
or one of a dozen things
that keep my wife busy
from dawn to dusk
year after year.
But I give all this stuff order,
the undisciplined flux,
the fleetingness of thought,
the transitoriness
that can't be integrated
and made solid--
I give it a shape, a form,
and all is form, at least
Wilde saw it that way.
And so mysterious connections
that rumble in my private world
become shapes on pages
and I can call it poetry.1
1 Drusilla Modjeska, "A mystery of connections," The Weekend Australian Review, December 1, 2002, pp.4-5.
---Ron Price 1 December 2002
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Jedi
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Hey Ron, thanks for introducing me to Roger White. Been reading a little of his work on various websites. I see yr a Baha'i. I have some Baha'i friends in Brisbane, where I normally live. Over on the religion thread, I've been trying to get people to discuss the Baha'i faith as its a little different. Why not wander over and tell us from the horse's mouth so to speak.
'for my purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset, and the baths of all the western stars, until I die.'
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| Posts: 2155 | Location: The ever silent spaces of the East | Registered: 12 February 2007 |    |
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Slacker
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How about Charles Bukowski: Burning in water, drowning in flames and Why no mention of Allen Ginsberg? 
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