Poezija

Volite? Gajite?

"Poeziju voli velika manjina", reche jednom jedan meksichki pesnik...
Koji su vam omiljeni pesnici? Stihovi? Koje lirike smete javno da proglasite poezijom... i na kraju naravno.. da li pishete?

Od svih najvishe volim Anticja, Raichkovicja i Crnjanskog [tzv. Stashino sveto trojstvo poezije]. Tu su naravno i Miljkovicj, Rembo, Jesenjin, Majakovski, Neruda, Bukovski.... i bolje da ne idem dalje, bicje ih previshe, a opet cju nekoga preskochiti (:

tool ima veoma interesantnu liriku,
rage against the machine politicki liberalnu , kvalitet im je na nivou , nema sta
metalika, sa ranijim albumima
rapsodi, hahah epska lirika

Dile to nije poezija.
Ne pokušavaj....ne !



Lesley Choyce - 'I'm Alive, I Believe in Everything'


Self. Brotherhood. God. Zeus. Communism.
Capitalism. Buddha. Vinyl records.
Baseball. Ink. Trees. Cures for disease.
Saltwater. Literature. Walking. Waking.
Arguments. Decisions. Ambiguity. Absolutes.
Presence. Absence. Positive and Negative.
Empathy. Apathy. Sympathy and entropy.
Verbs are necessary. So are nouns.
Empty skies. Dark vacuums of night.
Visions. Revisions. Innocence.
I've seen All the empty spaces yet to be filled.
I've heard All of the sounds that will collect
at the end of the world.
And the silence that follows.
I'm alive, I believe in everything
I'm alive, I believe in it all.
Waves lapping on the shore.
Skies on fire at sunset.
Old men dancing on the streets.
Paradox and possibility.
Sense and sensibility.
Cold logic and half truth.
Final steps and first impressions.
Fools and fine intelligence.
Chaos and clean horizons.
Vague notions and concrete certainty.
Optimism in the face of adversity.
I'm alive, I believe in everything
I'm alive, I believe in it all.

Sergej Jesenjin, naravno. Daleko ispred svih.

"Snage nemam ni da pevam, ni da patim
Dolaze gorki trenuci,
Sve što osecam hteo bih dati,
Jer sami naviru zvuci.

…

Jesam li kriv što sam poeta
Teških muka, sudbe kao pelin.
Nisam to postao što zelim.
Rodio sam se takav usred sveta.

Nisam kriv što zivot ne volim
I što ga ljubim i mrzim dok bridi,
I znam o sebi ono što ne vidim,
Jer tim me darom muza osokoli.

Znam, u zivotu sreca ne cveta,
Sve je bunilo, mašta i bolest nesretna.
Znam, dosadna su i pevanja moja setna,
Ali, nisam kriv, takav sam poeta."

Edward Thomas - 'Liberty'

The last light has gone out of the world, except
This moonlight lying on the grass like frost
Beyond the brink of the tall elm's shadow.
It is as if everything else had slept
Many an age, unforgotten and lost --
The men that were, the things done, long ago,
All I have thought; and but the moon and I
Live yet and here stand idle over a grave
Where all is buried. Both have liberty
To dream what we could do if we were free
To do some thing we had desired long,
The moon and I. There's none less free than who
Does nothing and has nothing else to do,
Being free only for what is not to his mind,
And nothing is to his mind. If every hour
Like this one passing that I have spent among
The wiser others when I have forgot
To wonder whether I was free or not,
Were piled before me, and not lost behind,
And I could take and carry them away
I should be rich; or if I had the power
To wipe out every one and not again
Regret, I should be rich to be so poor.
And yet I still am half in love with pain,
With what is imperfect, with both tears and mirth,
With things that have an end, with life and earth,
And this moon that leaves me dark within the door.