So far I've only put up two 'experimental' poems. But I've found it interesting how people respond to them.

1) Some people seem terribly suspicious that people are being fooled by these types of poems. They, however, are 'immune' from this, because they've guarded their imaginations against this somehow. What they can't seem to realise is that some people actually enjoy that kind of stuff.

2) Poetry for some seems to exist withing very carefully defined barriers, and what's outside 'isn't poetry'. Others have much more fluid boundaries, and others still seem to almost have no boundaries. It seems important to some to have these boundaries, but to others it's not as important.

3) Ideas of authority - who gets to define what poetry is/isn't - seem to bother some people a lot.

4) How to define 'good' and 'bad' poetry seems to bother some people. What is bad poetry when any form is allowed, a poem can be visual or sound-based and still be a poem?

5) The question of meaning is another difficult area. A poem that doesn't have much meaning, or in which there is real difficulty working out what it does mean, seems to bother some people. Though in fact these problems are opposites, they both seem to be bothersome. If it's either too simple (like The Red Wheelbarrow) or too difficult (JH Prynne perhaps) it's somehow keeping out its audience.

6) It seems to bother some that some poetry is not going to be enjoyed by everybody, or a lot of people. Accusations of 'elitism' come up; as if somehow you're only supposed to like what everybody else likes. But most of us who like experimental poetry probably like it much the same way that we might like Thai food; because we like it. Because it gives us good feelings or experiences. Or we might prefer Captain Beefheart to Kylie Minogue because we just prefer that kind of music. Insert your own likes/dislikes.

Well, it seems to me that poetry's 'glass' can never be filled any more than it can be emptied. Each member of WOL will have a different version of events about poetry and what led them up and along its many pathways - but I always feel that there is something generic about poets, certain universals that unite any given 'minority'. Having said that much of the 'poetry' I personally enjoy has been criticised, not least, by the likes of that awful man Steven Waling, who appears to rate the likes of Billy Collins and Charles Bukowski with as much enthusiasm that I can muster for modern day footballers.

Yet both Collins and Bukowski have a place in MY poetry world alongside the likes of the technically anal and linguistically precise Larkin - whose work actually first pulled me under the surface of poetry's unforgiving sea.

Darren,

You have a way with words that cuts to the point so dramatically! : )

And I am so with you regarding Billy Collins and Charles Bukowski...

Steven,
I went through both of your experimental poems as honestly as possible...Why don`t you give us your personal appreciation of them both? Then we can start talking about them in some meaningful way to all of our
satisfactions.

I mean talking about those two `POEMS` and not just about experimental poetry in general...give us your own take so that we can get our teeth into something definite (we promise to be polite)

It is not compulsory to like or dislike another's passions. But it is prudent to try and understand them.

Harry - I wrote a reply to you yesterday, just as the internet went off... so I'll try again.

I like both poems because for me they open up possibilities. The WCW poem is very simple, in many ways quite deliberately unpoetic, so it opens up the possibility of putting other unpoetic stuff into poetry. Also, that "so much depends upon" can lead me to thinking about what depends upon it. As a practising doctor he probably saw lots of red wheelbarrow type things on his rounds - objects which while simple, plain and ordinary, life would be much harder without. A lot of his poetry was about ordinary people anyway, celebrating and recording their lives.

The Geraldine Monk is a bit of a divertisement - it's not a terribly serious poem at all and it entertains me. Maybe I'm easily pleased. I like the sounds it makes. I like the concept of it - a poem composed entirely of words beginning with U, F, O.

As for Billy Collins and Charles Bukowski, the former reminds me of Friends: every line he writes seems to be trying too hard to be witty. Bukowski just reminds me of one of those boring old drunks at parties rabbiting on about their "exploits". But that's personal taste for you.