Social network
 

Why a social network for poets is not a good idea:

https://poetizer.com/

I think that every time I post here.

Where Rupi Kaur goes for inspiration.

Come now Sam, Ed and Cathy. You set me on fire with the incandescence of your eyes is surely… well, it's ah… well it's… striking, possibly some other word beginning with 's', oh yes sinking, that's the feeling it evokes, sinking.

Idiosyncrasy

Is it not a rare treat to indulge upon that which we fear most? Is it this sensation that endures man to so boldly press his nose into that which he does not rightly dare?

I was reminded of my callow youth, when I once collected magic mushrooms from cow patties.

Oh, Sam, do not take offense because I now understand your Magritte avatar. It’s a quiet admonition.

Sikhspak Chapra has joined the group.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm,
xxxxxin the heart of Eratosphere's roar;
xxAnd he wore a smile you could see a mile,
xxxxand he said, "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear
xxxxyou'll let in the cold and storm --
xxSince I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee,
xxxxit's the first time I've been warm."

-- The Elation of Sam McGee, Robust W. Service

Allen Tice, check Facebook.

https://www.facebook.com/sam.gwynn.7?ref=bookmarks

Sam, I don’t have a facebook account, but when I tapped on your link I managed to see the top of your head wearing a blue blindfold, for warmth I assume, in the center of the screen. Bravo. I assume you are smiling but I couldn’t tell.

Reading through Poetizer, I have noticed a lot of motifs that appear regularly:

the moon
stars
labyrinth/maze
dreams
mean girls
mean boys
Nature
mirror
outer darkness
inner darkness
cries

Maybe these constitute something of the essence of poetry in the popular mind. Thoughts?

Actually, Sam, that's not a bad poem.

Oh well, Sam, I imagine a lot of them are teenagers. Better than snap-chatting pictures of their genitals to each other, surely.

.
.
Surely


The moon.
Stars.
Labyrinth. Maze.

Dreams
Mean girls,
mean boys.
Nature. Mirror.

Outer darkness,
inner darkness.
Cries.

Better than snap-chatting pictures
of your genitals
to each other.
Surely.
.
.

I just finished writing several grant applications for programs to promote the arts. None of the proposed projects included sneering at the work of beginners. Dang.

Oh, well, maybe next year.

Some beginners should become begunners.

Some beginners shouldn't.

Nemo Emo: :rolleyes: :p :D :eek: !!

It was on Eratosphere that I learned the term "sandbox". If we are to direct beginners thither, such places are clearly necessary for them to play safely.

Safely.

The lucky ones might even get a Nemo to show them the value of what they find in the sand (even the catshit).

Surely?
.

Thank you for reminding me Ann and Julie that when I mock someone I am saying a great deal more about myself than I am about the person whom I mock. I am not only reminded, but abashed.

But what motifs, Sam. It is Borges.

We don't have to be goody-two-shoes about it. Everybody's good at something, ...but there's no denying the fact that a lot of people write absolutely bloody awful poetry!! Some people improve immeasurably because they're keen to learn, but I've met quite a few who never will.

I don't really see it as mocking, Rob, to shake one's head in disbelief when encountering something (not necessarily even poetry!) that has been done badly.

Jayne

Nature cries moon-labyrinth,
inner darkness outer darkness.
Mean boys mirror dreams,
mean girls the stars.

It's not necessarily making fun to take a look at the work of people who do not want their poetry critiqued. Poetizer is a "safe space" for them, and that's fine. It reminds me of those "anthologies" put together by outfits called something like The World of Poetry years ago. The only difference here is that one can see his or her work published without having to pay for the book. The same list of motifs occurred then as now.

http://articles.latimes.com/1989-09-...3_1_poet-award

Oh, dear...

While most of our pages are available in a version of latimes.com created for European Union users, some are currently unavailable. We are engaged on the issue and committed to identifying technical compliance solutions to this problem. Thanks for your interest in the Los Angeles Times.

Technology defeats us again?

'World of Poetry' Awards Mean Big Bucks--Paid by the Winners
September 02, 1989|DAVID STREITFELD | The Washington Post
WASHINGTON — Three thousand poets have arrived in Washington, and most of them are winners. World of Poetry, a for-profit California organization, is holding its fifth annual convention this weekend, its first in Washington. Bob Hope will perform, there will be a "Balloonathon," and literally thousands of awards will be presented.

But then, in the World of Poetry, it's hard not to be a winner. It's just that some of the versifiers don't know it, especially because their award letters call the honor the equivalent of an Oscar.

Mary Zangare, for instance, who is arriving from Las Vegas to collect her Golden Poet Award, said she thought she was one of only a dozen winners.

Actually, two-thirds of the poets in attendance at the Washington Hilton will collect Golden Poet awards. And those 2,000 are just the ones who are paying the $495 registration fee, plus air fare and hotel bill.



World of Poetry founder John Campbell said in an interview that two-thirds of the 75,000 entries to their contests this year won the award. A postcard sent out by World of Poetry, however, puts the number at "over 150,000."

"It's a considerable amount, and we're trying to increase that each year," Campbell said. "It's our way of encouraging poets and helping them to feel good about themselves. . . . I vowed as an editor I'd never send out a rejection slip, and I never have."

This is prompting growing disenchantment out in Golden Poet land. "We may be dumb hillbillies down here in Whopee Holler, but we're not stupid," said Kentuckian Tony Tribble, who got a letter informing him that he had won a Golden Poet Award in May. "They got a scheme to make money."

Poet Laureate Due

Tribble is not coming to the convention, but U.S. Poet Laureate Howard Nemerov is. He'll be addressing the group this morning. He said that while he had "some questions" about World of Poetry, he had made a commitment to appear and "as I can't get out of it, I'll go in with a good heart, a clean mouth and will keep a civil tongue in my cheek. . . . It's more like P.T. Barnum than Hitler, you know."

Meanwhile, World of Poetry has drawn the attention of both the district attorney's office of Sacramento County, where the company is based, and the local postal inspector. Both are making inquiries.

Said Deputy Dist. Atty. Justin Puerta: "Basically, what this industry is working off--and there's no law against it--is vanity. What we have a difficulty with is the elderly or disabled who call in and say, "I've won this award, and I thought I was the only one. I had the local church raising money, and then I found out I wasn't the sole winner.' They're put in an embarrassing situation and feel disgruntled." The same thing happens, he said, with that other vast group of poets: teens.

The letter received by Tony Tribble begins like this:

"Dear Golden Poet:

"I am so excited to tell you the good news!

"World of Poetry's Board of Directors has voted unanimously to honor you with our Golden Poet Award for 1989, in recognition of your poem 'The Grapes of Birth.' . . . The Golden Poet Award is to poets what the Academy Award is to actors."

That last sentence, Puerta added, also tends to imply that the recipient is one of a small number. As Tribble said: "I thought maybe like a handful of people had won. . . . But if you've got as many rejection slips as I do, you know you're not that great."



Others winners interviewed--both those planning to attend the convention and those who were not--exhibited a range of feelings.

Quest for Notoriety

"My reason for coming is to help spread the gospel," said Wilma Ficklin of Las Vegas. "My expectation is that possibly there are quite a few Golden Poet awards. What I am seeking is just a little bit of notoriety, just a little bit of recognition from the world."

Marie Wendling, a California resident, had been intending to come, but changed her mind. "Am I going to spend about $1,000 for a piece of paper? No." Furthermore, the 84-year-old retirement-home resident said, "I don't go out much. Except to bet on Lotto."

Her poem must have been among the shorter winners. It reads:

He didn't walk the path of gold

Just stumbled through the lead

Now carried to his grave site

For he is stone-cold dead.

Mary Zangare, the Las Vegan who had thought there were only 12 Golden Poet awards, said: "I want to meet other people, and I want to pass the word around about child abuse," the subject of her winning poem.

If she's never attended an event like this before, she's sent her poetry to, as she says, "all the greats.

"I wrote for Elvis' father, Karen Carpenter's parents, Betty White when her dog Stormy died. Liberace--when he was living. And the president of Korea. And John Wayne sent me his last note before he died. I've just written one now for Willie Nelson. He just doesn't know it."

A longer version of the above:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/archi...=.9605e6f0351a

[CAUTION: The following is yet another demonstration of me missing the point again. Apologies to everyone, especially Sam, for wasting their time. I'll leave it for the entertainment of anyone who enjoys laughing at bad posts as much as laughing at bad poetry.]


Wait, what? It's hard for me to see the connection here, Sam.

The thirty-year-old article you posted discusses a vanity press that was charging naïve poets exorbitant sums of money for copies of not-very-selective anthologies containing their work, and for registration at conferences at which they could collect certificates for bogus poetry awards. For-profit enterprises that exploit beginners' hopes like that are clearly unscrupulous, and warning other poets about them is a public service. (Although dredging up an article dated 1989 might not be the best way to connote that the existence of such scams is a Major Societal Issue today.)

In contrast, Poetizer publishes poems not-very-selectively for free, on the Internet. Thanks to the miracle of modern technology, poets no longer have to pay for the privilege of getting their sophomoric efforts in front of an international audience. In fact, unless Poetizer is doing something nefarious with the data they harvest from participants, I don't see any money being exchanged in this scenario at all. (Then again, maybe their true business model is to wait long enough to collect exorbitant sums from poets desperate to suppress the juvenilia they are so gleefully publishing on Poetizer today.)

People who enjoy laughing at bad poetry and feeling superior to ambitious teenagers should rejoice that they don't have to purchase horrible anthologies from the likes of World of Poetry in order to do that on a grand scale anymore.

But for those hardcore masochists who want not only to suffer through poetry they don't like, but also to pay good money for doing so, X.J. Kennedy et al. have edited Pegasus Descending: A Book of the Best Bad Verse, and there's also The Stuffed Owl: An Anthology of Bad Verse.

Wouldn't spending time with good poetry be more fun, though?

[Edited to add: Despite the amount of time I've clearly spent thinking about this, I don't really care all that much. And I have a pot/kettle problem if, instead of spending time with good poetry myself, I am getting into curmudgeonly arguments with my friends in General Talk. Seriously, though, it's delightful to have Eratosphere back again so I can make a moralizing ass of myself again.]

I worry sometimes I come across as a kind of inverted snob because I feel I'm forever waving my non-academia/non-pobiz credentials around. But it's true. I was actually on one of these things for a few months before desperate googling led me to discover the Sphere. Some of my early Sphere poems went on there. Wasn't Poetizer, but of a similar ilk. I joined through utter lack, or at least knowledge, of any other outlet, when poetry hit me out of the blue at the ripe old age of 43. 90% of the poetry was awful, and it was full of teenagers, but there were two or three who were really pretty good. I got talking via the comments to a young woman in Flint, Michigan who managed a fast-food restaurant. Her free-verse poetry was genuinely incredible, not emotional immature venting but controlled and strange and unique. But, like me at the time, she had no expectations of, or knowledge about, actually publishing. I imagine she probably never will.

True story. There are Emily Dickinsons out there. Not many maybe, but...

Nemo - post #14. Excellent! :)

I loved you, o Stuffed Owl.

[Song link—with new-fangled typo—removed.]

Allen, yeah that is wonderful. Thanks. Not sure what it has to do with the thread haha. Oh, the 'Stuffed Owl' bad poetry book? Is that also the name of this song?? Confused and tired. Goodnight all.

Glad the Sphere's back. :)

Will Sam accept my Friend request at Facebook? I'm holding my breath.

Julie, as I said above, "The only difference here is that one can see his or her work published without having to pay for the book."

I do keep checking Poetizer to see when ads will start appearing there, just like Facebook. I can't imagine that someone has set up the site out of the goodness of their hearts. As I also said, it seems like a "safe space" where the poets can remain anonymous and not have to worry about criticism or getting their feelings hurt. I don't even think it's possible for one poet to contact another.

Some years after 1989, when the World of Poetry (or its successor) did start giving real prizes, one of my students won $5000 for her poem.

Sorry for missing the point, Sam. I do that. Frequently. Thanks for the gracious correction, after I had been so ungracious to you.

How did you miss the point, Julie? If I say, as Sam has said about Poetizer, that it was "not a good idea" to elect George Bush and that the only difference between him and Trump was that Bush understood he was an idiot and let people with brains advise him, I'm clearly mocking Bush. The fact that I've identified a significant Trumpian vice that Bush didn't share doesn't change that.

Sam's claim that he wasn't making fun of those on the site is disingenuous, and you have no reason to apologize for calling him on it.

I'm less kind-hearted than you, Julie, and less boldly opinionated and clever than Sam ("Some beginners should become begunners" is a good line!). I would neither publically mock those beginners, nor stand up for them. For you, Julie, I gladly stand up.

I do not think it called for to reproach a motive in Sam either real or imagined, nor ought we to redress his sallies with supercilious gravity; since, having natural good-humor lurking in my heart, I could not refuse a whimsical game of no earthly consequence myself. I took it for an excuse to dissipate the pall of academical austerity.

To let no thread of wit or whimsy go
sans echoes of unchecked Malvolio
might be unsocial. But there is no shame
if one mistook this not so clearcut game.

Erik, I do enjoy your occasional verses and hope you are collecting them. Go-Malvolio is a very nice rhyme.

Cheers,
John

I always loved The Stuffed Owl, which contained snippets of some very famous poets who occasionally let their guard down. Poetizer, as far as I can tell, is not really a "social network" at all, just a digital bulletin-board; there doesn't seem to be much interaction among its posters, which is probably for the best. I don't think, however, that I've ever read a taxonomy (a contemporary one, anyway) of what makes bad poetry bad. Pound had a stab at it over a century ago, and Pope did it two centuries earlier.