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posted by Cinders
I've been slowly but steadily coming to the conclusion that mga tula as an art form is quickly losing its flavor amongst the iPod generation. And I'm not talking about contemporary poets who don't get read sa pamamagitan ng the masses, because as Gertrude Stein would say, "Those who are creating the modern composition authentically are naturally only of importance when they are dead because sa pamamagitan ng that time the modern composition having become past is classified and the paglalarawan of it is classical. That is the reason why the creator of the new composition in the arts is an outlaw until he is a classic." Or, in other words, a poet only matters after his work has been deemed a classic. This has occurred plenty of times in history. The only real audience for contemporary poets is other poets.

No, I am not worried about the contemporary poets so much as I am worried about the classics.

As a lover of mga tula myself, I signed up for a Modern mga tula class because I thought it would be fun to read some of the classic modernists and discuss them with a group of fellow mga tula enthusiasts. Now, as a young American with mga kaibigan of varying interest, I could already tell that the majority of young America couldn't give a flying monkey about poetry. Most of these folks also couldn't care less for literature in general. English majors and avid readers tend to be different. English majors and avid readers are supposed to enjoy literature in general. English majors and avid readers are, mostly, supposed to read at least some poetry.

I learned from a brief chat with my professor that "Modern Poetry" is rarely offered, because little interest is shown in it. And, granted, this was a summer course, but summers at the unibersidad of Washington tend to be quite busy with a bunch of bustling students trying to pack in a few extra credits to graduate early, or to catch up with their graduating class. Including myself, there were three official students of Modern Poetry, and one auditor, who was a very interesting retiree and poetry-lover.

Speaking to the other two students my age, I quickly learned two things about English majors at the unibersidad of Washington: A) That even if they liked literature, most of the time they did not like and, to some extent, even loathed poetry. And B) That an English major is not required to take any classes in mga tula at all, and can easily obtain a degree without ever having to look at a single poem.

Now, some may recall that even I expressed frustration with the mga tula we read in the the chat, or complained about all the essays I was Pagsulat for the class, but in truth I actually rather quite enjoyed it, for all my complaining. But I quickly learned a new thing, about my generation in general (not just English majors). And that is that even a well-read person who knows exactly who you're talking about when you mention Hemingway, has no idea who you mean when you casually mention Stein in the same sentence, even though Ernest Hemingway and Gertrude Stein were not only contemporaries, but good friends.

To my everyday group of high school graduate friends, I throw out names like "Harper Lee," "J.D. Salinger," "F. Scott Fitzgerald," and even occasionally "Albert Camus," "Joseph Conrad," or "Chinua Achebe," they know who I'm talking about because the novels of these authors were required pagbaba in their high school.

If, to the same group of high school graduate friends, I toss out names like "William Carlos Williams," "Wallace Stevens," "Elizabeth Bishop," or even "T. S. Eliot," "Ezra Pound," or "W. B. Yeats," they tend to stare at me blankly.

Why is this, I ask? Why is it that the great novelists of the nineteenth and twentieth century are recognized sa pamamagitan ng my generation, but not the poets? Why do we feel this vague sense of, "Oh, I should know who he is... Wasn't he black?" when we hear the name "Langston Hughes"? Or, "Dang, 'Gertrude Stein,' she sounds super familiar... Wasn't she a lesbian?"

A matulin paghahanap of Fanpop for the major contributors to the modernist canon revealed that the only mentions of any of these names (Williams, Stevens, Bishop, Eliot, Pound, Yeats, Hughes, and Stein) reveal nothing, or if something, an artikulo in which I alluded and/or quoted one of them.

I published an artikulo centering around Hughes' poem the other araw in hopes to stir up a little discussion on the poem. The poem itself was rather incendiary at the time, and some may consider it to be offensive still, which was exactly what I wanted to discuss. It received six ratings, which I was pleased with, and not a single comment.

So this is my tanong that I am posing to you, writers and poets: Did you recognize any of the names I dropped in this article? If you did, can you name one poem any of them wrote? Can you name two? If you can name three, I may have to get down on one knee and propose. Because even amongst English majors, I've found, mga tula is not necessarily a welcome topic of conversation.

Now, why is this? Is mga tula too dry for our short attention spans these days? It has been argued that artists such as John Lennon, Joni Mitchell and Don McLean were the real poets of their generation, and were paralleled with poets like Allan Ginsberg of the Beat Generation. So if this is the case, does that mean I'm wrong? What if mga tula isn't dying? What if it's just slowly evolving into brand new forms, just like us? What if our mga tula is our music? Song lyrics are madami often quoted sa pamamagitan ng teens than any classical lyric. Regardless of whether or not a poem of the canon is timeless or period-specific, it would seem that most of the iPod's generation's interest is in the world, and subsequently mga tula of music. If these popular lyrics were written, or read, and not sung, would they still be popular?

And if they remained popular, why song lyrics and not other poetry? What makes, for exampled, Jason Mraz's "If it's a broken part, replace it/If it's a broken arm then brace it/If it's a broken puso then face it," any madami interesting than Don McLean's, "The silver thorn on the bloody rose/Lay crushed and broken on the virgin snow" or any madami interesting than Wallace Stevens' "People are not going/To dream of baboons and periwinkles./Only, here and there, an old sailor,/Drunk and asleep in his boots,/Catches tigers/In red weather." (Quotes and artists/poets selected at my discretion. From "Details in the Fabric," "Vincent," and "Disillusionment of Ten O'Clock" respectively).

Hm... It's all very tricky, isn't it? I asked my uncle this tanong earlier, and he suggested that it was because music was madami readily accessible to folks nowadays because it's everywhere you turn. Poetry, not so much.

So what do you guys think? Are you a tagahanga of the classic poets? Are you a tagahanga of poets in general? Do you prefer song lyrics, or written poetry? Or do you think they are apples and oranges? Is mga tula dying, or is it just changing to meet the needs of the rapidly shrinking attention span? If it is changing, is it a good thing? Will people still study the modernists (Eliot, Pound, Stein) in the future, or will their work slowly fade into obscurity?

Talk to me! I would pag-ibig to dialog about this.
added by ZekiYuro
Heres a song about my boyfriend and his last ex enjoy

Hey, I heard your girlfriend had a fight with you,

She is a very crazy cheerleader,

She thinks she can fool everyone but she is wrong,

She can't fool me because I seen her bad soul,

She already fooled you but she haven't fool me,

I seen you smile everytime you walked up to me,

I never seen you smile in days since she showed,

I know what she is been doing behind your back,

I got your back since we were so small,

You walked me tahanan and always stay sa pamamagitan ng my side,

She don't pag-ibig you like I do,

She don't pag-ibig you like I do,

She don't pag-ibig you like I do,

Her...
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added by arun_kumar203
posted by kayleebabee
Where did it all go wrong
what made us fall apart
I was so caught up in a dizzy
spin of fantasies
I didn't even notice.

Baby please I'm sorry
I know we had a bad run
but i know we can make
this thing work

There are lines drawn
and Ive crossed them
You made no attempt to stop me
In fact you probably welcomed it.

I've crossed the bridge
now i must stand and
watch it burn
theres no going back now.

I've done some real bad things
in my past, some to others
mostly to myself, racked woth guilt
but i must soldier on
Because ...
The bridge is burnt
I stood and watched it burn
No going back, no backing out...
I've crossed the line
Im in too deep
far too deep
in pag-ibig with you.
posted by Bella_Swan3
A/N: Okay, so this was an idea that pestered me. Let me know if I should continue.

Taylor paced the length of her quarters. Being unable to sleep was, ironically, a tiresome experience.

She had been a vampire for less than ten years, and remembered nothing of her life as a human. In her mind, it was simply an odd void, like the only way to sense it's presence was from it's very absence.

Tomorrow, the moon would be the smallest crescent, and she would be forced to hunt, along with every other vampire there. To vampires, the moon always looked the same. It was only when humans saw it that way too, would they need to hunt.

Resisting was futile, Taylor knew. She had tried every time and failed. The pain would be worse than she could manage. Than anyone could.

She sank to the floor against the wall, and melted into the shadows.
posted by mrs-mindfreak
Meredith sat up in the middle of the night screaming. Again. She felt tears wet her eyes at another miserable attempt at sleep. She wanted to pull her sore eyes from her sockets. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stay asleep. She wasn’t going to get any madami sleep tonight, and Meredith knew that. She pulled off the sheets and slowly stood up. She wobbled slightly and held her head. These nightmares were going to be the death of her.
    Meredith crept down the hall and into the kusina for a little snack. Maybe some warm gatas would put her to sleep. She reached...
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posted by SamsDarkSide
    The blood dripped from my dagger, turning the waxed linoleum floor crimson. The smell of copper and metal made my nose wrinkle, and I desperately wished for a pair of nose plugs. Maybe I would start carrying those around with me.
    I stepped over the twitching body that took up most of the kusina floor and went to the sink, washing off the dagger and my hands. I waited for the water to wash the blood down the drain. I sighed with impatience and displeasure at the thick dexterity of blood. Killing was the fun part, but the blood drove me mad. It...
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posted by QueenVictoria73
I woke up one araw from a dream and remembered every segundo of it. In the ten minuets I stayed in kama awake but didn;t get up yet, I thought up a story. I went downstairs and typed this up, not caring about grammar, spelling, or sounding good at all. I stopped halfway through because my burst of creative energy had run out. Please excuse the choppiness and poor style of it, and just pay attention to the plot. Maybe it will inspire you or give you ideas for something else.

There is an evil witch that has a gray, mushy body that is very bony and bat-like, she can fly and screech and materialize...
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posted by KatiiCullen94
ok, im sorry, but this isnt what i normally write, i wanted to try something different... im sorry if its lame..



I woke to same sound, as every morning. The cries, of a exhusted child always did. I had thought for a moment we had a routine going on but you know children, but its jsut doesnt happen. It's if as though they are engineered to keep you up late, have a colourful shoulders and bags under your eyes, Well my baby did.
I was young, and so was she. We had that in common. Thats all we had, She was the spitting image of him. He makes it hard to pag-ibig her sometimes.Which makes me hate him more,...
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added by MirabelleBevan
posted by EmilyMJFan910
The fiction story I wrote EXCLUSIVELY for Fanpop. In Chapter 2. Enough said.

The Aso ran furiously until they were out of breath. They stopped in the unfamiliar woods. The brother tuta looked at his sister as if to say, "Let's go back to Mama."
She refused, attempting to cuddle with him instead. He ran away when she tried to nuzzle him.
He ran away from the woods, closer and closer to the open field and his family. He looked back to see his sister wasn't running. He didn't care. She would realize he was on the right track. She'd catch up.
The speeding tuta looked straight ahead of him to see...
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posted by Faith-Rulz
Life may be a hard path to walk
but as the years pass you learn
on how to adapt and face it head on.

Fear of leaving something or someone familiar
to tread somewhere new and foriegn,
but thats the beauty of life
how we see things grow from the earth, the birth of a human life,
animals of the wild struggling for survival
through the ages since the beginning of time.

Where despair fills your soul
you cry for renewal within
it will take deep forgiveness in your heart
to wash away the hurt of betrayal
as it happens forevermore
as long as we continue to fight and hurt each other.

Love bleeds deeply when you...
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posted by IloveMyLord
In this artikulo I'm going to write about how to enjoy writing. I'm a writer and do a lot of writing, both for my website and for other people. I find some ways of Pagsulat are madami enjoyable than others.




How To Enjoy Writing




I find Pagsulat is most enjoyable when it's not done in a forced or particularly planned manner. If you find it's hard to get yourself to write, I think it's best to relax about it. Perhaps relaxation will be all you need to get your inspiration flowing, in fact.




I often spend some time meditating for ideas before sitting down to write an article. After a few segundos of keeping...
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added by Shadowvixen49
Source: MINE!
added by glelsey
Source: DawnPaladin @ DeviantART
added by SymmaGirl2
posted by para-scence
"Shelby?" Sage asked quietly, coming into my room. "Can I ask you something?" I sat up on my bed.

"Sure," I sighed, not so enthusiastic; but I was trying not to be so irritable all the time. Sage came in front of the bed, then plopped down on the floor in front of me.

"What's that stuff you take?" she asked. I furrowed my eyebrows.

"What do you mean, Sage?"

"You know, that stuff you take," she said. "Like this." She put her palm to her nose, and inhaled deeply. My puso fell into my stomach. I quickly fell down to her height, and grabbed her shoulders.

"Sage. How do you know about that," I said...
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posted by halunik
I was just 5 minutos on foot to my dancing class. When I left tahanan 20 minutos ago, I didn’t expect, I would be raining. But it wasn’t just raining – it was going to be a real storm. It was the middle of July and I was wearing a dress with the short sleeves. The rain was becoming heavier with each minuto while I was walking down the street. Unfortunately there was no tindahan or bus station close for me to hide from the storm, so when I felt my dress all wet and drops in my hair, I couldn’t do anything but stopping under the tree. The kalye was desert – apart from one car standing in...
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added by problematic124
Source: I don't own this