Who is the best contemporary poet in your opinion?

I'm afraid, I'm negligent in this realm. I know so few contemporary poets. I've read so few but I do admire the work of Margaret Atwood, Joyce Carol Oates, and our own poet laureates: Letty and edgarblythe.

I don't have any patience when it comes to poetry. For the most part (in my kneejerkish mind), contemporary poetry is filled with far too many insider jokes that only the poet singularly understands .

For the most part, I depend on the Zen and pithy format of the haiku poem. Special mentions to the haiku masters of a2k: ossobuco, Dutchy, and the rarebird iamsam82.

Cavfancier was good at haiku, in my opinion. (He is still so missed here.)

I'm also unschooled on contemporary poets, for similar reasons as yours. I don't search them out, but when someone else quotes them, I can sit back stunned from the recognition and pleasure of reading it. I keep meaning to read Phillip Larkin.

Jjorge, a sporadic a2k poster, used to start a lot of poetry threads.

yes, I'm in the same boat, tsar.

I guess, by "contemporary" we're talking about poets who are writing & publishing now?

I'll be interested in what other, more informed folk, contribute here.

In this context? Yes.

con·tem·po·rar·y   [kuhn-tem-puh-rer-ee] Show IPA adjective, noun,plural-rar·ies.
"adjective
1.
existing, occurring, or living at the same time; belonging to the same time: Newton's discovery of the calculus was contemporary with that of Leibniz.
2.
of about the same age or date: a Georgian table with a contemporary wig stand.
3.
of the present time; modern: a lecture on the contemporary novel.

Charles Bukowski!

Case closed.

Thank you, tsar.

Perfectly clear now.

OK, I look forward to seeing what others will contribute here. Philip Larkin is about as contemporary as I get.

It depends on what you consider contemporary to be - do you consider contemporary to be within the past fifty years or 100 years (which would still be within the 20th century). What are your parameters in terms of the years you consider the word 'contemporary' to encompass?

If you've been reading poetry for 100 years then a poet publishing 100 years ago is a contemporary of yours and not many one else however. And that likely makes you far too old and out of touch to be in the know of contemporary poets of today.

I think your mixing up the definitions of modern and contemporary aidan.

Maybe I am - because my definition of contemporary would include someone who wrote within my lifetime - which would include Philip Larkin, for example. But I don't know what the original poster's definition of contemporary is. Maybe it's different from mine. Maybe his/her definition includes what I'd consider contemporary as well as what you'd consider modern.

I thought I'd give him/her the chance to tell me before I answered based solely on my definition.

I love James Kavanaugh!

Larkin was a contemporary to me, though almost two decades older - which is why I mentioned him - but I can see Tsar's point too, especially in terms of style.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phillip_Larkin

Ooooh, could I ask for an example of his poems, Jane?
I know nothing about him.

Yes of course, MsOlga, I have many poetry books of him.

I'll write one up! (give me a few minutes)

Will you be my friend?
There are so many reasons why you never should:
I’m sometimes sullen, often shy, acutely sensitive,
My fear erupts as anger, I find it hard to give,
I talk about myself when I’m afraid
And often spend a day without anything to say,
But I will make you laugh
And love you quite a bit
And hold you when you’re sad.
I cry a little almost every day
Because I’m more caring than the strangers every know,
And, if at time, I show my tender side
(The soft and warmer part I hide)
I wonder,
Will you be my friend?...

http://james-kavanaugh.memory-of.com/About.aspx

You might like Joy Harjo’s She had Some Horses: Poems, I know I did. I went looking for her work after hearing part of a reading on the radio one day.

I’m lousy at reviews, but here’s one I think sums up how I felt pretty well:



http://www.amazon.com/review/RYGM2HN9OJ7QH/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm

Well, my best guess of contemporary poetry would be from the 60s (starting point of Post modernism) to now (Alter Modernism).

And, because I still love it so, here's the title piece...you should hear her do it:

JOY HARJO
I She Had Some Horses

She had some horses.

She had horses who were bodies of sand.
She had horses who were maps drawn of blood.
She had horses who were skins of ocean water.
She had horses who were the blue air of sky.
She had horses who were fur and teeth.
She had horses who were clay and would break.
She had horses who were splintered red cliff.

She had some horses.

She had horses with eyes of trains.
She had horses with full, brown thighs.
She had horses who laughed too much.
She had horses who threw rocks at glass houses.
She had horses who licked razor blades.

She had some horses.

She had horses who danced in their mothers' arms.
She had horses who thought they were the sun and their
bodies shone and burned like stars.
She had horses who waltzed nightly on the moon.
She had horses who were much too shy, and kept quiet
in stalls of their own making.

She had some horses.

She had horses who liked Creek Stomp Dance songs.
She had horses who cried in their beer.
She had horses who spit at male queens who made
them afraid of themselves.
She had horses who said they weren't afraid.
She had horses who lied.
She had horses who told the truth, who were stripped
bare of their tongues.

She had some horses.

She had horses who called themselves, "horse".
She had horses who called themselves, "spirit", and kept
their voices secret and to themselves.
She had horses who had no names.
She had horses who had books of names.

She had some horses.

She had horses who whispered in the dark, who were afraid to speak.
She had horses who screamed out of fear of the silence, who
carried knives to protect themselves from ghosts.
She had horses who waited for destruction.
She had horses who waited for resurrection.

She had some horses.

She had horses who got down on their knees for any saviour.
She had horses who thought their high price had saved them.
She had horses who tried to save her, who climbed in her
bed at night and prayed as they raped her.

She had some horses.

She had some horses she loved.
She had some horses she hated.

These were the same horses.



http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=180961

Thank you, Jane.



<sigh> Lovely. And so true.