I've been learning poetry lately in school. When I *suddenly* realised how sophisticated every thing is. The sentence and line lengths, the rhyming sequence, the phonetic sounding (as in: "The fierce foam flew", F, F, F), as well as the syllables' collaboration to make a certain sound effect (as in horses' hooves; you have that in a Latin poem).
Does anyone know the most complex and sophisticated English stansa (AKA: "Verse") - needless to say, in a poem - in which as many of these (and others) occur as flawlessly as possible? Please, no older than 1550 AD; as my English gets less powerful older than then.
This is bizzare, I know. That's why I posted here: this is the one of those forums whose entire members' minds' value would be enough to... Well, let's not discuss it here.
Anyone knows any poems with such "perfect" stansas? Thank you all in advance,
Jonathan Howard (NOT THE AUSTRALIAN PRY MINIATURE!)
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"The sun came out upon the left, Out of the sea came he; And he shone bright, and on the right Went down into the sea."
"Water, water everywhere, And all the boards did shrink; Water, water everywhere, Nor any drop to drink."
"Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread; For he on honey dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of paradise."
"'Ah wretch!' said they, the bird to slay, That made the breeze to blow!"
Tennyson's OK, and I like Milton; despite his very powerful poetry. I'd go for Coleridge's "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" and "Kubla Khan".
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"The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" is one of my all-time favorites too. I love everything about that poem.
I've recently become very fond of Edna St. Vincent Milay and Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. Also, Robert Frost. He's so traditional and so subversive at the same time.
Edgar Allen Poe has several poems, including "The Bells" that fit the description of what you were looking for in the first post. My favorite of his is "Alone," for content reasons.
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Did I ever mention I liked (and preferred to George Bernard Shaw) Yeats?
But then, I haven't been acquainted to THAT much poetry; I'm regarded unusual locally for actually READING a Shakespeare play (Julius Caesar + Antony & Cleopatra) *gasping*.
But then, how can a man or a woman, especially a child, avoid a good poem written by the greatest of all times? Cicero, Caesar, Milton or Edgar Kereth (local Israeli) - how can you override that desire?
quote: When you are old, and gray, and full of sleep And nodding by the fire, take down this book And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and their shadows deep.
How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true But one man loved the pilgrin soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
I love the classics - Virgil especially. I love Cicero for his fiery oratory and for his character; he's always been my favorite Roman, and my heart just goes out to him. He never knew when to keep his mouth shut, but that same mouth and brain earned him a place that lesser men had to achieve with money and force. I've heard unpleasant things about his poetry, though. Is there one especially that you liked?
For examples of poetry that creates pictures with the sound of the words, how about Alan Ginsberg? He's a more modern poet, but the words thump and sing. Try "Howl."
quote: I met a traveler from an antique land, Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desart. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read, Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: "My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings. Look on my works ye Mighty, and despair!" Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that Colossal Wreck, boundless and bare, The lone and level sands stretch far away.
"Ozymandias" Percy B. Shelley.
EDIT: The site I copied this from had so many errors in the poem. Gah!
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Mine's just in the tough days in Judea following the death of Hrod Agrippa the 1st. 10 years later and all Romans were hating the jews. Got another 13 posts to the big days of destruction.
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