Whatever blablabla — I am still amused how you try to convince me — the more upset you get the more…
Anuschka Conoci
1

My tempered reactions? Just as cars are not trains and prose is not poetry, my comments are not tempered.

You are ignorant of what poetry is. That is not my fault. That is your fault. You should be mad at yourself.


Here is some modern, decent quality poems for you:

quarterday.org/


http://www.poetrymagazines.org.uk/magazine/record.asp?id=13359

Anniversary

Old now, she lives in a quiet
House, tidy and intimate, where
Voices of lost years
Echo in warm corners
And, on the walls, Bible poems
Ease the days’ sombre hours.
Her man was a child of the pit
Who tilled her rooms with broad
Shoulders and tenor voice.
This night her soliloquy is the story
Of his return in the early hours.
In the room of rusty dark
She waits for the sound of the stranger’s
Fist on the slack door where darkness
Concealed the rock-ruined
Man whose silence was permanent.

— Robert Morgan, Year 1965

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.