#modernist poets

[eltortaszilvafa]

Anthem for Doomed Youth

BY WILFRED OWEN

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?

      — Only the monstrous anger of the guns.

      Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle

Can patter out their hasty orisons.

No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells; 

      Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,—

The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;

      And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?

      Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes

Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.

      The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;

Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,

And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

1917

[uwmspeccoll]

Eliot Land

On this day, September 26 in 1888, T. S. Eliot was born into the world in St. Louis, Missouri. In honor of his birthday, we present this 1932 First American edition of his Poems 1909-1925, published by Harcourt, Brace and Co. in New York.

Thomas Stearns Eliot (1888-1965) was an American-English poet, dramatist, publisher, essayist, editor, and literary critic. He was a leader in the Modernist poetry movement and is considered one of the greatest poets of the 20th century. He breathed new life into English poetry through his explorations in phrasing, style, and structure. He is most famously known for his 1922 publication, The Waste Land, which is often deemed the most influential poetic work of the 20th century. Among the many awards and honors given to Eliot were the British Order of Merit and the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1948, three Tony Awards in 1950 and 1983 (two posthumously for Cats), and the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1964.

-- Melissa, Special Collections Graduate Student Intern

[lebuc]

the work

* step aside, time - we're busy building a tower to the sky

requiring much thought & effort & fatigue is not an option. *

from far & wide they shall praise our yet unheralded mission with the attendant honor we so clearly deserve.

need i mention the great import i now compel you to validate by your presence, your body & your devotion? *

for those without the gate shall suffer the anguish of the lonely

& those without purpose or goal shall cower in the shadows of what we've wrought

& someday bow to the ineffable intent we portend, inherent within our very being. *

far be it for me to convey to you, further the urgency of my appeal...

by the way, Heather & Jamal are bringing snacks & refreshments to the staff meeting

an hour & a half from now in the big conference room at the home office... don't forget to bring the quarterly loss projections. * 10/24 - lebuc - the work

[saphosticated]

T.S Eliot was a Libra. I feel that says enough.

[dreamsinmytotebag]

Theory of Lyric Poetry

Going back to our main subject of poetry, this blog is going to talk about “Lyric Poetry”. Lyric Poetry refers to a short poem, often with songlike qualities, that expresses the speaker’s personal emotions and feelings. It can also be described as a first-person poem. The concept of lyric poetry is commonly found in contemporary forms of art, particularly, literature and music, in different genres. The etymology of the word, “lyric” can be traced back to the Greek word “lura”, which means "lyre”, a musical instrument often used to accompany the readings of lyric poems. The Greeks had a very technical meaning for lyric poetry and called it “melic poetry” primarily because it used to be sung. They used to follow a strict distinction between lyric or melic poets and the writers of plays. Lyric poetry then followed a pathway from the Romans to China, into the Medieval verse, and then from 16th century onwards, it persists even today.

In the 20th century, lyric poetry became the dominant poetry type in America, Britain and Britain colonies. A. E. Housman, Walter de la Mare, Edmund Blunden, and Rabindranath Tagore were among the many famous poets who relied on this genre of poetry. However, at the same time, there were many who questioned Lyric Poetry as well. The modernist poets such as, Ezra Pound, T. S. Eliot, and many more, rejected this kind of poetry on the basis of its heavy reliance on the melodious language, rather than on the complexity of thought. Lyric poetry also gave rise to “confessional poetry”, which took the main stage in American poetry in the middle of the 20th century. Poets started writing about their relationships, domestic life, and many other personal and sensitive issues. Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton, make it to the list of such poets.

If we view the field of music, we come across many modern-day songwriters across various music genres to be following the same writing technique. Personally speaking, as someone who writes as well, I always draw my attention to the lyrics of a song prior to anything else. I think that’s why my personal favourite artists come around to be those who are primarily known for their songwriting capabilities, such as Taylor Swift, Lana Del Rey, or LORDE, and many more. I also feel like, many people are drawn to such songwriters/artists because these artists tend to write about their private life and affairs which draws human interest. People like to read about people, especially when these people hold some sort of prominence or significance.

And this can also be applied to the concept of Lyric Poetry, because it tends to make the poet sound confessional in their work which tends to reflect a sense of relatability onto the readers or listeners. I also feel like this is one of the most vulnerable forms of writing because you truly let yourself reflect in what you write. The emphasis on the poet’s state of mind and personal themes is what makes Lyric Poetry stand relevant even today and it’s interesting to see how it continues to evolve ever since its origin.

References:

[creatediana]

"St. Roach" by American poet Muriel Rukeyser (1913–1980)

[twoleggedalien]

Poetry of a Modern Soul

Existence is a dreadful fight.  Its continuance wears my body down,  punctures tears in my sentience, raptures dreams from within my soul, antagonize this gracious heart 'til its hues are blacke'nd and macabre. Yet, to live and wake another day, to test my endurance against the bone stiffing northern attitudes of winter nights and the dizzying rage of summer days and the idle bouts in between that interfere with the violent resistance which prolongates. I don’t want to dwell in a grave for minute more, all I do is ponder and let things pass over. Can I stay out for a minute longer, brother? I'd rather participate than soon be a goner.

[lilacerull0]

fucking everything is about lila and samuel beckett

[arnaultcavalcanti]

Ezra Pound

[artemismatchalatte]

I now bless you with what might be the only surviving photograph of Radclyffe Hall smiling (that I could find and I looked). 

Una smiles more often, but Hall almost never does, from what I found. 

[foursaints]

thoughts on ‘une charogne’ by beaudelaire

predictable of me but its extremely evan rosier coded

[everymanpdf]

god help me im starting another ezra pound research project

[ineffag-swag]

IBJUST NEED TO PASS THE EXAM I JUST NEED TONPASD PASSINGBIS ENOUGH I JUST NEED TO PASS I JUST NEED ZO TO IT NOTHING MATTERS NOTHING MATTERS MJOTHING MATTERS

[gothiclit]

thanks @sofyarostova for tagging me :)

last song: blue monday by new order. absolute banger. obsessed with the outro

currently watching: i'm not really a tv show person in general, but the last thing i watched was an one hour documentary "nikola vaptsarov: five stories about one execution" which is. about the circumstances around ww2 poet vaptsarov's death, the subsequent myth-making and the political climate of ww2 bulgaria in general

currently reading: flitting between shelley: the pursuit by richard holmes (reread), keats' odes: a lover's discourse by anahid nersessian, harrow the ninth by tamsyn muir and time shelter by georgi gospodinov

current obsession: honestly...nothing. lol. i'm having a weird time

tagging @dykejohnmilton @rock-n-rollin-bitch @vladracul @samodivas @merrymorningofmay and whoever else wants to do it

[dreamy-conceit]

And I circle ten thousand years long; and I still don't know if I'm a falcon, a storm, or an unfinished song.

— Rainer Maria Rilke, 'The Book of Hours'

[herecomesoberon]

Be silent with me, as all bells are silent!

Ingeborg Bachmann, “Psalm.” Translated by Peter Filkins in Darkness Spoken, the collected works