To feel Poetry has died a death in modern society?

[Marmitemother]

Out of curiosity I searched MN expecting to find a topic page on poetry and literature....have I missed it somewhere?

Semi retired, children flown the nest, hubbie and I always busy with projects yet still find time to read poetry most days.

I'm wondering if others, particularly younger folk (we're in our 60's) didn't learn to appreciate poetry at school or just don't have time or the inclination to read, share and discuss compared to all else available these days (TV, phones, cinema, social media etc)

I read The Journey by Mary Oliver this morning and thought about how it spoke to many posting on the Relationship page.

“One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.”

Or you could just be a South Somerset local... that would be my first thought rather than the Quartets! Then Ralph Fiennes would be my third thought and that might last a while...

I've seen Luke Wright live recently, he's good. Also a big fan of Dr JCC.

I don't agree. As I clicked on this thread I had the radio on - the american poet Billie Collins being interviewed on NPR. There are plenty of poetry readings in my city.

I'm a member of a poetry reading group. We meet every month and read aloud/discuss a different poet each time - taking turns to lead. We met by zoom through the pandemic and it probably was the thing that kept me sane for the past few years. We often pick poets writing today (actually one member is a published poet and she led a session on her own poetry which was fascinating) and sometimes have them join us as a guest. The best thing about it is we get to read lesser-known poets, especially American poets, that I didn't know about (for example Donald Hall, Stanley Kunitz, Louise Gluck). There are a couple of english guys in the group so they and I have introduced Irish and UK poets not well read here - Carol Ann Duffy (huge hit), Bernard O Donoghue, Derek Mahon, Alice Oswald)

I love poetry. I was a wordy, dreamy youngster and loved it from a young age. Did English A Level and undergraduate degree. Obsessed with Shakespeare’s sonnets and obvs Sylvia Plath, as an angsty teen girl.

There has always been a thriving spoken word scene in London and it’s still going strong. I think you’re probably right that appreciation of written word is quite niche, but thus has it ever been.

Massive eye roll to the snotty rap-isn’t-poetry brigade l. It might not be poetry that YOU understand or enjoy, but it IS poetry.

I was listening to an old KRS-One album on the bus home the other day and was struck by how clever and powerful and at times quite beautiful his poetry is.

Yes. I looked for a Poetry sub forum on mumsnet and couldn't find one. Maybe they'll start one if they are asked.

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I
Got out of bed at all
The morning rain clouds up my window (window)
And I can't see at all
And even if I could it'll all be gray
But your picture on my wall
It reminds me, that it's not so bad
It's not so bad

Dear Slim, I wrote you but you still ain't callin'
I left my cell, my pager, and my home phone at the bottom
I sent two letters back in autumn, you must not've got 'em
There probably was a problem at the post office or somethin'
Sometimes I scribble addresses too sloppy when I jot 'em
But anyways, fuck it, what's been up, man? How's your daughter?
My girlfriend's pregnant too, I'm 'bout to be a father
If I have a daughter, guess what I'ma call her?
I'ma name her Bonnie
I read about your uncle Ronnie too, I'm sorry
I had a friend kill himself over some bitch who didn't want him
I know you probably hear this every day, but I'm your biggest fan
I even got the underground shit that you did with Skam
I got a room full of your posters and your pictures, man
I like the shit you did with Rawkus too, that shit was phat
Anyways, I hope you get this, man, hit me back
Just to chat, truly yours, your biggest fan
This is Stan

Dear Slim, you still ain't called or wrote, I hope you have a chance
I ain't mad, I just think it's fucked up you don't answer fans
If you didn't wanna talk to me outside your concert
You didn't have to, but you could've signed an autograph for Matthew
That's my little brother, man, he's only six years old
We waited in the blistering cold for you
For four hours and you just said, "No"
That's pretty shitty, man, you're like his fuckin' idol
He wants to be just like you, man, he likes you more than I do
I ain't that mad though, I just don't like bein' lied to
Remember when we met in Denver, you said if I'd write you you would write back
See, I'm just like you in a way
I never knew my father neither
He used to always cheat on my mom and beat her
I can relate to what you're saying in your songs
So when I have a shitty day, I drift away and put 'em on
'Cause I don't really got shit else, so that shit helps when I'm depressed
I even got a tattoo of your name across the chest
Sometimes I even cut myself to see how much it bleeds
It's like adrenaline, the pain is such a sudden rush for me
See, everything you say is real, and I respect you 'cause you tell it
My girlfriend's jealous 'cause I talk about you 24/7
But she don't know you like I know you Slim, no one does
She don't know what it was like for people like us growin' up, you gotta call me, man
I'll be the biggest fan you'll ever lose
Sincerely yours, Stan
P.S. we should be together too

Dear Mr. I'm Too Good To Call Or Write My Fans
This will be the last package I ever send your ass
It's been six months and still no word, I don't deserve it?
I know you got my last two letters, I wrote the addresses on 'em perfect
So this is my cassette I'm sending you, I hope you hear it
I'm in the car right now, I'm doing ninety on the freeway
Hey Slim, I drank a fifth of vodka
You dare me to drive?
You know the song by Phil Collins, "In the Air of the Night"
About that guy who could have saved that other guy from drowning
But didn't, then Phil saw it all, then at a a show he found him?
That's kinda how this is, you coulda rescued me from drowning
Now it's too late, I'm on a thousand downers now, I'm drowsy
And all I wanted was a lousy letter or a call
I hope you know I ripped all of your pictures off the wall
I love you Slim, we coulda been together, think about it
You ruined it now, I hope you can't sleep and you dream about it
And when you dream I hope you can't sleep and you scream about it
I hope your conscience eats at you and you can't breathe without me
See Slim, shut up bitch, I'm tryna talk
Hey Slim, that's my girlfriend screamin' in the trunk
But I didn't slit her throat, I just tied her up, see I ain't like you
'Cause if she suffocates, she'll suffer more, and then she'll die too
Well, gotta go, I'm almost at the bridge now
Oh shit, I forgot, how am I supposed to send this shit out?

Dear Stan, I meant to write you sooner but I just been busy
You said your girlfriend's pregnant now, how far along is she?
Look, I'm really flattered you would call your daughter that
And here's an autograph for your brother
I wrote it on a Starter cap
I'm sorry I didn't see you at the show, I must've missed you
Don't think I did that shit intentionally just to diss you
But what's this shit you said about you like to cut your wrists too?
I say that shit just clownin', dawg, come on, how fucked up is you?
You got some issues, Stan, I think you need some counseling
To help your ass from bouncing off the walls when you get down some
And what's this shit about us meant to be together?
That type of shit'll make me not want us to meet each other
I really think you and your girlfriend need each other
Or maybe you just need to treat her better
I hope you get to read this letter, I just hope it reaches you in time
Before you hurt yourself, I think that you'll be doin' just fine
If you relax a little, I'm glad I inspire you but Stan
Why are you so mad? Try to understand, that I do want you as a fan
I just don't want you to do some crazy shit
I seen this one shit on the news a couple weeks ago that made me sick
Some dude was drunk and drove his car over a bridge
And had his girlfriend in the trunk, and she was pregnant with his kid
And in the car they found a tape, but they didn't say who it was to
Come to think about, his name was, it was you
Damn!

How can anyone think Stan is not poetry?

Poetry (at least what I've been taught or signposted to) has a tendency to be depressing or disturbing! It's also not as absorbing as a prose book. I've read some of those YA novels in verse and I don't like them.

There was an excellent poet on R6 whose poetry really spoke to me during covid

It was modern and very moving, not sure if I can find it

My experience is that 18 year olds are more likely to be interested in poetry than my generation were - I've been teaching them since 2012 and when I started, I would say not very many of them would reach for a poet if you asked for their favourite writer. Now it's quite common someone will say Rupi Kaur or Hollie McNish or Kae Tempest. I also think poetry is having a bit of a moment in publishing, but perhaps that's just my perception because I seem to know a lot of people who've started publishing their poetry in the last few years.

I suspect, like anything else, fashions come and go.

I love poetry. I was a wordy, dreamy youngster and loved it from a young age.

Me too! I think it’s the way poetry plays with words and tells a whole story in a few lines.
I also pay attention to song lyrics - there are artists who really make me feel like they’ve put poetry to music.

I love poetry. I don't' think it's any less popular than it's ever been.

It's never going to appeal to most people, but although I enjoy nearly all literature, poetry is the Daddy to me - above novels and plays.

My favourites are the Georgian poets of the pre-First World War period (Edward Thomas, De La Mare, Drinkwater, Frost and others) as well as T. S. Eliot. I think Philip Larkin's work is genius too.

But Shakespeare, Milton, Sidney, Wordsworth and all of them still have so much to say to us.

I've always loved poetry but it's a personal thing, I mean what we like or dislike, and whether we connect with it; it is easy for people to be turned off by it. Just because something resonates with me doesn't mean that I can expect someone else to be as enthralled by it as I am. Something is needed to spark an interest or a reaction. Discussing and / or speaking aloud might do that but a forum not necessarily. Nothing would put me off it more than posting chunks of text for no apparent reason. Music threads do the same if they turn out to be nothing but a series of links.

I never got the hang on poetry. I see them as part of a wedding or funeral service (I had a lovely one at my wedding), but I wouldnt' sit down and read them or listen to a reading.

DD is 15 and they did. poetry in English literature in KS3 and it it part of GCSE English lit work. She did a poem as part of her acting exam two years ago as well. So it's definitely still there but I think it's a form of literacy which is not that popular and enchanting.

I recently came across Brian Bilston on Facebook and have bought his book - the first poetry book I've bought since my O levels in 1986!

I try and read poetry. A separate subject under books would be good.

Liz Berry's poem about motherhood stayed with me and I imagine a lot of MNs would love it.

The Republic of Motherhood

I crossed the border into the Republic of Motherhood
and found it a queendom, a wild queendom.
I handed over my clothes and took its uniform,
its dressing gown and undergarments, a cardigan
soft as a creature, smelling of birth and milk,
and I lay down in Motherhood’s bed, the bed I had made
but could not sleep in, for I was called at once to work
in the factory of Motherhood. The owl shift,
the graveyard shift. Feedingcleaninglovingfeeding.
I walked home, heartsore, through pale streets,
the coins of Motherhood singing in my pockets.
Then I soaked my spindled bones
in the chill municipal baths of Motherhood,
watching strands of my hair float from my fingers.
Each day I pushed my pram through freeze and blossom
down the wide boulevards of Motherhood
where poplars bent their branches to stroke my brow.
I stood with my sisters in the queues of Motherhood –
the weighing clinic, the supermarket – waiting
for Motherhood’s bureaucracies to open their doors.
As required, I stood beneath the flag of Motherhood
and opened my mouth although I did not know the anthem.
When darkness fell I pushed my pram home again,
and by lamplight wrote urgent letters of complaint
to the Department of Motherhood but received no response.
I grew sick and was healed in the hospitals of Motherhood
with their long-closed isolation wards
and narrow beds watched over by a fat moon.
The doctors were slender and efficient
and when I was well they gave me my pram again
so I could stare at the daffodils in the parks of Motherhood
while winds pierced my breasts like silver arrows.
In snowfall, I haunted Motherhood’s cemeteries,
the sweet fallen beneath my feet –
Our Lady of the Birth Trauma, Our Lady of Psychosis.
I wanted to speak to them, tell them I understood,
but the words came out scrambled, so I knelt instead
and prayed in the chapel of Motherhood, prayed
for that whole wild fucking queendom,
its sorrow, its unbearable skinless beauty,
and all the souls that were in it. I prayed and prayed
until my voice was a nightcry
and sunlight pixelated my face like a kaleidoscope.

I was once talking to a well known poet about whether lyrics, citing rap, were also poetry and he argued not. Only because poetry is not about the sound and the rhythm, but also the ‘blank space’ around the words. In rap (or pop or opera or any kind of musical meets lyrics performance), that blank space is punctuated by music. So although lyrics can be poetic, the performance of it with music as the non blank space around it means it’s a different, and equally valid, art form.

We didn’t then go on to discuss a capella singing therefore constituted poetry but I wish we had!

Well, your mistake there was in talking to an elitist twat somebody who has no musical knowledge. Or he'd have known that there is as much attention paid to the gaps as there is the dots.

I am under 40. I read a lot of poetry as part of my degree and still love it. I am part of online groups where we share poetry we have written. I went to a local slam poetry session recently. I think there is still a lot of poetry arpund, including Spoken Word on YouTube.

My children also live poetry and go to live poetry readings. We have a lot of poetry in the house.

GCSE English very successfully strangled any glimmer of interest my DC had in poetry.

I like poetry now I am in my early 20s, English lit at school had ruined it for me for a while. Poems were fun at primary school when we had ones like Allan Ahlberg, then we got to year 9, we got the 'moon on the tides' anthology and had to over analyse war poems for hours and it killed all the interest in poetry.

There are still plenty of young people reading poetry as part of University degrees and PhDs. And, indeed, for fun.

@1000yellowdaisies do you genuinely not think any rap to be poetry? Is it simply because you don’t enjoy the sound of it or something? Nobel laureates and most of the most well known literature professors in the world have expressed admiration of various rap artists, particularly Eminem. Or even if you’re looking at Hamilton you cannot possibly deny there is poetry there.

I’m in the cabinet
I am complicit in watching him grabbin’ at power and kissin’ it
Washington isn’t gon’ listen to disciplined dissidents
This is the difference
This kid is out

Seriously? Not poetry?

More rap poetry genius lol

I'm a big stepper, I drip when I walk
I'm bringin' pressure, they run when I walk
I kicked the bitch out the Jeep, told her, "Walk"
Yeah, I jump on these beats and I walk
Slide, keep on slidin' (walk)
Opps just keep on dyin' (walk)
Spin 'round, spin 'round (walk)
Step down, step down (walk)

The best modern poet I know is Stormzy - hands down