Madness and Modernism

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem 

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The Modernists will say my measures mar

Since made of sharp steel rulers; mean the soul

Of poetry and arts will turn to scar;

Perhaps, but scab is worse to see.  The goal

Of wreckers is to free from form the truths

Of centuries — maybe strict millennia.

The argument includes that sonnet’s booths

Have changed throughout the years, yep, many a

Time.  Still the sonnet changed from form to form

And not to formlessness.  Such seems the point

That they have missed.  They want a slobbering storm.

And want to smoke a magic mushroom joint.

  They want an art world burbling, “ban-free-free!”

    I want that world completely banshee free.

~ Phillip Whidden

by phillipw | Jul 9, 2024 | MO | 0 comments