Poetry
When words have no rules or regulations
And a sentence has no bounds
That is where the poet hides
Where truth can still be found
The word is mightier than the sword they say
When words are truly free
Poetry is the words of a poet
Then the poet has the power of Thee
There is a lesson to learn in poetry
A remedy and a cure
For poetry are words of freedom
And in freedom the truth shall set us free
What is the truth One wonders
In the phrase and phrases of a rhyme
The true poetry of a free poet
Will bring equality to All in Just time
For freedom is equality
Unity of not only mankind
The true words of a poets? poetry
Is the beautiful true Oneness of All kind.
=
MJA

Poetry? OK. Now you are getting into my life. And that of a friend and brother in Canada. Let me explain. My writing began as poetry. Short-lived, but fun-all, or most all, of my epics were lost during my visit to Canada in 1969. Long time ago. Well, three and four decades later, I began to write prose; while that other person mentioned above was writing poetry. He seems to be getting recognition now. About time, I think. If you'd like to see some of his ideas; read some of his poems?--- go to: www.larryvanpelt.com. What makes a great poet? Could be luck. Or charisma. Or....language skill? Huh? Or is it all just commerce? I think so, to wit:
Several days ago, our electric clothes dryer stopped working. The drum did not turn, but the motor was still running. My assessment: the belt was broken. So, having no experience with appliance repair, and not wanting to fall victim to commerce, I procured a new belt and proceeded to tear the dryer apart. Two days later, or there abouts, the dryer is fixed, for $20.00 and my time and inexperience. Better than the'commerce' way, which would have likely cost me $150.00, or more... That maybe the difference between commerce and art, OR...maybe there is no difference at all.
Nothing poetic about that, really. Ye Haw---pretty much.

Poetry's discursive reply to the question, What is it like to be human?

the transformation of neuronal pathways in the brain from reading/studying poetry is some very interesting research...
RIP Adrienne Rich!

Your Own Personal Genius
A man can rationalize anything.
In times of necessity, the task can be done with the sophistication of an evil genius.
Absurdity and excess go hand in hand.
A good life is beautiful life and aesthetically speaking , beauty rests in proper proportions.
The foundational presuppositions of sophomoric metaphysicans can conjure superstitions that stifle sentimental intuition.
Divine revelation in contrary juxtaposition to matters of fact is nothing more than fiction.
The hallmark of balanced philosophy is found in its all­encompassing approach.
Sticking to the ruts of dogma greatly restrict the search for truth.
Thoughtful allegories can be meaningful tools to help men get on with their day to day existence.
The danger lies in getting lost in the words of metaphor or of delusional schizophrenic omnipotents, thus thinking ourselves into
believing what we've read or wrote.
Such occurrences, as documented by observers of history, have brought less enlightenment to the well ­read
than has rendered the noble and common man intellectually or prematurely dead.

We can no longer talk to the veterans of World War I, but they left an extraordinarily rich legacy of poetry. It is estimated that 5-million poems were written during 1914-18 and, although only a tiny portion of it has survived, it reflects reality in a way that historical prose could never match.
WWI began with heroic poetry as idealistic young men marched off to the battlefield believing that if they did their duty the war would be over by Christmas. By 1916, the war was at a stalemate, which the Germans tried to break by a massive offensive at Verdun. Tha Allies responded with a counter-offensive at the river Somme. By the end of 1916, one-and-a half million men had been killed, wounded or taken prisoner with a minor adjustment of the front line. The public on both sides clamored for peace and President Wilson offered to broker it. Had democracy prevailed, that would have been the end of the war; but, of course it wasn't. The politicians and generals on both sides insisted on outrageous demands that the other could not possibly accept (much as is happening in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict today) and the war continued. The poetry, especially that of the soldier-poets changed dramatically, now telling of hardship, senseless waste of youth and a longing for peace.
When I was young, I used to think highly of the heroic poetry and wondered at the negativity of those who saw the war as such a waste and burden; now, as an adult, I see that I had it entirely backwards.

jane quoted a poet saying.........
was it because i was thinking of him that he appeared
or was it because i was dreaming of him that i awakened
is that right and who is the poet?

is this right ???
was it because i was thinking of him that he apperaed
or was it because i was dreaming of him that i awakened?

Great program. One little correction: I believe what Ogden Nash wrote was
Candy is dandy
But liquor is quicker

Wakened
I was wakened by a radiance of light,
Shinning from me.
=

One latter-day creation from a small collection of what I call New-Age Nursery Rhymes:
Humpitty Dumpitty sat on a wall,
Flopped by a pigeon, he had a great fall;
All broken and scattered---no money back terms,
He's a breakfast entree now,
An omelet. For worms.
I have similarly ravaged subjects, including Jack Horner; Old King Cole, et. al.
Is poetry a 'way of knowing'? Certainly, it must be. It helps us Think About Life*---to muse upon how things might be vs. how they are. It takes us into altruistic territory, while every other aspect of living fairly screams: look out for yourself and your own, because no one else WILL. We know, too well, how the world works. Poetry (sometimes) allows us to dream about how it might work better.
(* the name of a band of optimists)
Warmest,
Dr. S.

Fantastic program! Just wanted to let you know that I really enjoy your show but this one was especially thought-provoking and inspiring.

1. I was listening to the roving philosophical reporter Catlin Esk and Shakespeare's choice of wording in King Lear. Willie used "madded" to describe Lear's descent into situational insanity. Madded is archaic, but back in the day it was just descriptive. (The use of "charcoaled" would be far more metaphoric -- the old ashes to ashes theme). Now, we would use the word "maddened", which wasn't invented until the 1700s.
Although "madded" was an unchallenging description for Willie to draw, these day its archaicness creates an intellectually challenging metaphor where none originally existed. So while the facts may be wrong, Catlin point still holds.
2.
We taste bitter.
But when we feel bitter
the same neural pathways light up.
Our minds' connections are
doing what poets do.
Is the metaphor dead?

Thanks for the query, mirugal. Rather than recommending a particular anthology, I hope you will find some comments helpful.
Examples of the 'heroic' poems might include 'The Soldier,' written by Rupert Brooke (1887-1915) and 'In Flanders Fields,' written in 1915 by John McCrae (1872-1918). The latter poem seems to mark the end of the heroic era. Neither Brooke nor McCrae was a front-line soldier, Brooke was a sailor and McCrae was a medical doctor.
'In Flanders Fields' was met with considerable consternation at the front lines. Especially after the appalling Allied losses at the Somme, the attitude towards the war changed. Dulce et Decorum Est, a poem by Wilfred Owen (1893-1918) is considered a refutation of McCrae's poem (as well as a response to a particularly insensitive remark about the Allied casualties by the Allied High commander, Sir Douglas Haig). Owen's is probably more widely known for the poem, Anthem for Doomed Youth. Like Owen, most of the published authors were officers. An exception was the South African, Isaac Rosenberg (1890-1918), noted for 'Break of Day in the Trenches.' Several other notable front-line soldier-poets perished in the war; a poet who survived was Siegfried Sasson (1886-1967), although he came close to facing the firing squad for writing an open letter to the government expressing his opinion about the futility of continuing the war.

CORRECTION: For anyone who may be interested, the website referenced in an earlier comment was misstated. It should read: www.larryvanpelt.ca (not: .com) Apologies to all, including the Poet.
Sardonicus.

'twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe---'kind of says it all, doesn't it? Of course, we are not certain what is being said, because the poet is speaking in his own special tongue and we must IMAGINE what it is he is talking about---later, we must decipher 'mome wraths'. And, once again, we are unsure of what a wrath is, let alone a 'mome' one. And so, when poetry is a way of knowing, it may only be a way of knowing for the poet. I was amused by Humpitty Dumpitty. Not deep---but, a funny take on the original. And a different way of knowing the broken egg parable. Sardonicus has a wry wit. Yes.