[New-Poetry] old poem made obsolete by current events
David Bircumshaw
david.bircumshaw at ntlworld.com
Sat Aug 26 06:39:57 EDT 2006
Only opinion based on the only Kooser poem I have seen:
a drone.
Bored in the bar
Best
dave
----- Original Message -----
From: steve moore
To: NewPoetry: Contemporary Poetry News &Views
Sent: Friday, August 25, 2006 6:25 PM
Subject: Re: [New-Poetry] old poem made obsolete by current events
I have a personal grudge against Mr. Collins, so the comparison of him with any poet puts the latter on a pedestal. Kooser's a good poet, though I wouldn't jump in to putting him among the ranks of poetic genius. He has a few poems that sock me in the stomach, but overall, the jury is still out for me. I may be heading to Nebraska for my PhD, so that may have an affect on my opinion in the future.
On Aug 25, 2006, at 6:50 AM, TheOldMole wrote:
A little nervous about the notion that one has to throw Billy Collins into the mix before one can evaluate Kooser. But I agree that at his best, he creates visual images that resonate.
----- Original Message -----
From: Anthony Lawrence
To: NewPoetry: Contemporary Poetry News & Views
Sent: Friday, August 25, 2006 2:39 AM
Subject: Re: [New-Poetry] old poem made obsolete by current events
What's the attitude to Ted Kooser's work among this group? I find the best of his poems have the ability
to stop me in my tracks. His imagery can be astounding. I think he leaves someone like Billy Collins
in a dustcloud.
On 25/08/2006, at 4:45 AM, JforJames at aol.com wrote:
Astronomers strip Pluto of its planet status
http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20060824/sc_nm/science_planets_dc_5
--
The 10th Planet
Every night they wheel out
the great siege gun of Palomar
trying to bring down the walls of darkness
surrounding a tenth planet.
Out beyond Neptune and the orbit of Pluto
where the Sun's gravitational empire
begins to fray and fall apart.
The tenth planet that might be
the foreshadowing of what our world could become,
a denatured earth, clear-cut, stripped
and left for dead as progress
grinds on into deserts of sawdust and slag,
bonemeal and unarable sand. Or when
we turn on each other, petty tyrants imposing
martial law, torturers and detention camps,
the missiles and minarets, borders closed
with sutures of barbwire. Remember
that at its height as many as ten-thousand slaves
were sacrificed in a single year to some Aztec sun-god.
But a reign of centuries can end in a hundred days,
Cortez with his gold lust and upper-case God
destroyed that civilization founded on carnage--
Comes now the conquistador with horses and crosses,
the sword and gunpowder, smallpox
and syphilis. Always religions go awry,
creating god out of fear and the need to make someone,
something, responsible for bad weather
or blindness, for wars and total eclipses
of the sun. And when they find that tenth planet,
its face in the little handmirror of the universe
that rests at the base of the telescope,
it won't tell us anything. A face marked
by craters and half-hidden in shadow.
It won't look at us, it will turn away.
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