Does it irk one that poets <br />who think real poetry <br />consists almost solely <br />of exclamation points <br />and impassioned rhetoric? <br /> <br />Is there no room in prosody <br />for the quiet meditative poem <br />or the modern ironic comment? <br /> <br />Not according to some <br />on this board who imply <br />that overheated verbiage <br />and a certain sympathy <br />one feels for the downtrodden <br />are prerequisites for poetry <br />with a capital P. <br /> <br />Does Keats or Shakespeare <br />foam at the mouth and spill <br />their guts in every line <br />they cast? Shelley does, <br />you say, but is hysteria <br />really that necessary?<br /><br />Michael Pruchnicki<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/irksome-passion/
