wanting to read some contemporary poetry but don’t really know where to start. so what’s your favourite modern day poet and if you like why. thank you.
Robert Hass because i like his treatment of nature images and their interrelatedness with human themes like love and honor and empathy and friendship, etc.
Adrienne Rich because she writes about loving women while being a woman in a way that simply makes my toes curl.
Jorge Luis Borges because his prose blows my mind at all times and at every turn.
Comments
Robert Hass because i like his treatment of nature images and their interrelatedness with human themes like love and honor and empathy and friendship, etc.
Adrienne Rich because she writes about loving women while being a woman in a way that simply makes my toes curl.
Jorge Luis Borges because his prose blows my mind at all times and at every turn.
I like these poets currently:
Jack Gilbert
Louise Gluck
A. E. Stallings
Nance Van Winckel
Jason Bredle
Heather McHugh
C. J. Sage
Paul Guest
Tracy K. Smith
Mary Oliver
J. P. Dancing Bear
Jennifer Michael Hecht
Reginald Shepherd
Brigit Pegeen Kelly
Karen Volkman
Mary Rueffle
Theordore Worozbyt
Bryan Penberthy
Mary Jo Bang
My favorite contempory poet is likely Sharon Olds or Louise Gluck. Here are some examples:
Sex Without Love by Olds
How do they do it, the ones who make love
without love? Beautiful as dancers,
Gliding over each other like ice-skaters
over the ice, fingers hooked
inside each other's bodies, faces
red as steak, wine, wet as the
children at birth, whose mothers are going to
give them away. How do they come to the
come to the come to the God come to the
still waters, and not love
the one who came there with them, light
rising slowly as steam off their joined
skin? These are the true religious,
the purists, the pros, the ones who will not
accept a false Messiah, love the
priest instead of the God. They do not
mistake the lover for their own pleasure,
they are like great runners: they know they are alone
with the road surface, the cold, the wind,
the fit of their shoes, their over-all cardio
vascular health--just factors, like the partner
in the bed, and not the truth, which is the
single body alone in the universe
against its own best time.
Mock Orange by Gluck
It is not the moon, I tell you.
It is these flowers
lighting the yard.
I hate them.
I hate them as I hate sex,
the man's mouth
sealing my mouth, the man's
paralyzing body--
and the cry that always escapes,
the low, humiliating
premise of union--
In my mind tonight
I hear the question and pursuing answer
fused in one sound
that mounts and mounts and then
is split into the old selves,
the tired antagonisms. Do you see?
We were made fools of.
And the scent of mock orange
drifts through the window.
How can I rest?
How can I be content
while there is still
that odor in the world?
try reading colin leslie dean
his poetry is free for download in pdf format at
gamahucher press
http://gamahucherpress.yellowgum.com/gamahucher_pr...