Seeing how things are now, it's hard to imagine what the poetic world will be like twenty years from now. I would love the chance to be transported back to the 1800's...back when Keats was alive, and thinking himself to be a failure. Perhaps it is the longevity of years that truly bring us to our fruition.
Always a pleasure to read you, Jacob!
Posted 7 Years Ago
7 Years Ago
i wonder if anyone will even care about poetry 20 years from now...unless all the poems are done in .. read morei wonder if anyone will even care about poetry 20 years from now...unless all the poems are done in text language....
The art form sure has changed a little bit here and there from what I can tell. I really like several of the lines used here; "promotes his or her own wounds, bleeding profusely from the mouth", "graffiti prose against a wind of change". This speaks to me on several different levels, and each moment something new comes to mind, so I won't keep you. Good job Jacob :)
Jacob, you astound me...the metaphor your literally pour into your poetry overflows in rich layers...reading and books, I was thinking the other day are becoming a thing of the past and sadly so...this is brilliant!
gotta love those guys ...well done to bring them to mind and heart .. it was a different time for sure .. i think it is interesting to think how they may have progressed in the hip hop, rap rant world today .. full of gaudy sex everywhere :( seems that the world of the day has need of the "Beats" insight and edge .. well said my friend!
E.
Posted 7 Years Ago
7 Years Ago
yes, that is what we have today...just not the same...i am not sure they would have been too pleased.. read moreyes, that is what we have today...just not the same...i am not sure they would have been too pleased...thanks for your words, E.
j.
dear Jacob... as we age, life is like a heating blanket turned to low... warm and toasty with love on hold. As passion is felt and played like a deck of cards... taking a chance in dreams coming true. Reminds me of the song... "and when I grow too old to dream, I'll have you to remember..." truly, Pat
Rooms for rent, poems to read. Every room is different, just as every poet. The uniqueness. I feel the meaning here. It strikes me. What does it mean to be a poet? Your words have a touching effect.
I love this Jacob, it speaks of lost honesty. Finding the heart in some small everyday happening and making it meaningful through words. The old beats would watch an old bum sitting on a park bench smoking a cigarette and give dignity and style to the same man by exploring his thoughts and feelings. No mere judgement. Thank you for sharing your wonderful words.
Sincerely,
Richie b.
Posted 7 Years Ago
7 Years Ago
yes, exactly...no mere judgement..i really appreciate your review, Richie.
and especially the.. read moreyes, exactly...no mere judgement..i really appreciate your review, Richie.
and especially the inspiration your poem gave me for this.
Ah, the getting old in words. The wandering through experience that still leaves room and we wonder what we are going to do now. An very empathic write here Jacob. One that we can try to come to terms with and we find those rooms still empty after years.
Posted 7 Years Ago
7 Years Ago
and we are "still crazy after all these years" too...like Paul wrote.
thank you, Ken...i appr.. read moreand we are "still crazy after all these years" too...like Paul wrote.
thank you, Ken...i appreciate your words much.
Originally from Bronx, NY, I live in Carbondale, Illinois...teach English at a community college and have been writing and publishing poetry since 1970. I am here to read for inspiration from other po.. more..