A form of art that uses language. Poets use the beauty of a language and its words to create a feeling or convey a message to the reader, whether the wording is soft, sweet, sunny, and a lovely walk through a meadow... or clotted, ugly, grungy, and conjures up images of a slum. Just like artists use images and colors to create a mood or message, poets use words to do the same thing.
Poetry has been around for over 5,00 years and it's still young, vibrant, and growing. Poetry might even go further into the past, since most people memorized poetry and passed it on orally; 5,000-year-old poems from Mesopotamia could have already been old when they were written.
The practice of memorizing poetery and passing it on by word of mouth is pretty much gone.
Humans change, but maybe their nature doesn't change very much; practically everything that could be said through poetry has already been said, often many times, albeit in different ways. Poets must be original and avoid any cliché if they want to look competent.
Poetry has been around for over 5,00 years and it's still young, vibrant, and growing. Poetry might even go further into the past, since most people memorized poetry and passed it on orally; 5,000-year-old poems from Mesopotamia could have already been old when they were written.
The practice of memorizing poetery and passing it on by word of mouth is pretty much gone.
Humans change, but maybe their nature doesn't change very much; practically everything that could be said through poetry has already been said, often many times, albeit in different ways. Poets must be original and avoid any cliché if they want to look competent.
#1244
Chan eil fìor. Abair thugam (It’s not true. Say to me)
Nach eil fìor. Mas e ur toil e... (That it’s not true. If you please...)
O h-iochdaist! ‘N dualchas sin ann- (O goodness! That culture there-)
Mar a bhuin dhuinn o cheann fhada... (What belonged to us long ago...)
Sean dòighean mar a bh’againn... (Ancient ways that we had...)
Rudan gun robh, ‘s nach eil a-nis... (Things that were, and that are no more...)
Ar daoine, ar dualchas glan... (Our people, our pristine culture...)
Am faic sinn iad a-chaoidh a-rithist...? (Will we ever see them again...?)
Seallaibh! Na òg daoine seo... (Behold! These young ones...)
Nach faic sinn tannasgan idir... (That will not see us ghosts at all...)
Fhathast th’ann beagan gun tog (Yet there are some that will)
Ar dòighean suas. Th’iad òg, làidir... (Pick our old ways up. They are young, strong...)
Linnean o cheann, bha sinn ‘nar (Ages ago, we were a)
Clì gun do riaghal thar an tìr (Force that reigned over the land)
Far an dh’fhan sinne... ‘s an nuair (Where we lived... and then)
Sin nuair thàinig iad: an-iochd fìor... (They came: true cruelty...)
Ciamer a ‘s thèid do àite (How can a place)
Bi mar seo: cho mòr ‘s cho dòmhail...? (Be like this: so spacious and so crowded...?)
Tha ‘n guthan seo nas ciùine... (These voices are quieter...)
Dh’fhàs iad nas ciùine anns an dail (They became calmer in)
Seo. O cheann thàinig iadsan... (This meadow. Since they arrived...)
Chan urrainn dhomhsa chuimhneachadh (I cannot remember)
Na rudan gun rinn sinn an (The things that we did)
Uair sin. Ar n-aodach, ar taighean... (Then. Our clothing, our houses...)
Chan eil fìor. Abair thugam (It’s not true. Say to me)
Nach eil fìor. Mas e ur toil e... (That it’s not true. If you please...)
O h-iochdaist! ‘N dualchas sin ann- (O goodness! That culture there-)
Mar a bhuin dhuinn o cheann fhada... (What belonged to us long ago...)
Sean dòighean mar a bh’againn... (Ancient ways that we had...)
Rudan gun robh, ‘s nach eil a-nis... (Things that were, and that are no more...)
Ar daoine, ar dualchas glan... (Our people, our pristine culture...)
Am faic sinn iad a-chaoidh a-rithist...? (Will we ever see them again...?)
Seallaibh! Na òg daoine seo... (Behold! These young ones...)
Nach faic sinn tannasgan idir... (That will not see us ghosts at all...)
Fhathast th’ann beagan gun tog (Yet there are some that will)
Ar dòighean suas. Th’iad òg, làidir... (Pick our old ways up. They are young, strong...)
Linnean o cheann, bha sinn ‘nar (Ages ago, we were a)
Clì gun do riaghal thar an tìr (Force that reigned over the land)
Far an dh’fhan sinne... ‘s an nuair (Where we lived... and then)
Sin nuair thàinig iad: an-iochd fìor... (They came: true cruelty...)
Ciamer a ‘s thèid do àite (How can a place)
Bi mar seo: cho mòr ‘s cho dòmhail...? (Be like this: so spacious and so crowded...?)
Tha ‘n guthan seo nas ciùine... (These voices are quieter...)
Dh’fhàs iad nas ciùine anns an dail (They became calmer in)
Seo. O cheann thàinig iadsan... (This meadow. Since they arrived...)
Chan urrainn dhomhsa chuimhneachadh (I cannot remember)
Na rudan gun rinn sinn an (The things that we did)
Uair sin. Ar n-aodach, ar taighean... (Then. Our clothing, our houses...)
by Lorelili March 26, 2005
Get the poetry mug.by barnhart08 November 12, 2011
Get the Hood Poetry mug.Related Words
The phrase refers to the inter-song banter of the lead singer of a band where he or she panders to the working class folk with lines such as:
"Who here has been beaten down by life and wants to throw it all away!"
"Fuck it all, lets get hammered!"
"That son of a bitch boss is gonna be pissed in the morning!"
"Trucks. AMIRIGHT?"
"Life is a cruel lie!"
"Who here has been beaten down by life and wants to throw it all away!"
"Fuck it all, lets get hammered!"
"That son of a bitch boss is gonna be pissed in the morning!"
"Trucks. AMIRIGHT?"
"Life is a cruel lie!"
by TeamPlowMyField March 18, 2015
Get the Blue Collar Poetry mug.Poetry readings and recitals done, usually of only one or two poems and by a small group or solo poet, in a public place previously unprepared for the "attack". Originally defined by poets William F. DeVault (the Amomancer) and Daniel S. McTaggart and framed in McTaggart's poem "Guerrilla Poetry".
Two young women walk into a Starbucks, one distracts the barrista while the other whips out a book, chants the words of "Ozymandias of Egypt" in her guerrilla poetry attack on the crowd and then they are both gone into the morning chaos.
by E.J. Trelawny May 30, 2009
Get the guerrilla poetry mug.John:
"My blood runs thickly from my tearducts
just as the knife runs down the thick streets of my veins
I bleed
My life is nothing
black
despair
abuse survivor
but I survive no longer"
Jane: "He means 'hello.' Don't mind him, he's emo, he only speaks 'bad poetry'.
Regular people: "Ah, Emo."
"My blood runs thickly from my tearducts
just as the knife runs down the thick streets of my veins
I bleed
My life is nothing
black
despair
abuse survivor
but I survive no longer"
Jane: "He means 'hello.' Don't mind him, he's emo, he only speaks 'bad poetry'.
Regular people: "Ah, Emo."
by Cheapglue September 1, 2007
Get the bad poetry mug.1. (noun) A feeling or an idea. A common misconseption is that poetry has to use big, complicated words and only written by the "highly classed, intelligent people" when the truth is that it may not use words at all. Poetry could be in the view out your window and does not have to be spoken or written to BE and/or to be real.
by TheGirlWithin April 23, 2009
Get the poetry mug.by Sarah Avia June 15, 2018
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