Get a good anthology and a book about poetry. Not some bargian bin 100 best poems ever shit, and not some "How to make your life happy through the magic of poetry!" shit. Get an anthology that covers many famous poets and periods and get a book about poetry that actually goes into the details about meter and symbolism and shit like that. After that you can just pick up whatever you're interested in.
>>7313664 Actually good advice. Start with the Iliad and the Odyssey, then move on to the Romans with the Aeneid, the Metamorphoses, the Thebaid and maybe Pharsalia, and from there you can go on to the Middle Ages with the Nibelungenlied etc. etc.
>>7313652 Read nothing but Russian futurists. Mayakovsky was the greatest poet to live.
Kindness to Horses
The hooves stomped faster, singing as they trod: --Grip. Grab. Rob. Grub. -
Wind-fostered, ice-shod, the street skidded. Onto its side, a horse toppled, and immediately, the loafers gathered, as crowds of trousers assembled up close on the Kuznetsky, and laughter snickered and spluttered. --“A horse tumbled!” --“It tumbled -- that horse!” The Kuznetsky cackled, and only I did not mix my voice with the hooting. I came up and looked into the horse’s eye...
The street, up-turned, continued moving. I came up and saw tears, -- huge and passionate, rolling down the face, vanishing in its coat... and some kind of a universal, animal anguish spilled out of me and splashing, it flowed. “Horse, there’s no need for this! Horse, listen,-- look at them all, - who has it worse? Child, we are all, to some extent, horses,-- everyone here is a bit of a horse.”
Perhaps she was old and didn’t want to be nursed, or maybe, she took in my speech with a scoff, but the horse, out of nowhere, suddenly burst, heaved to its feet, and neighing, walked off. Wiggling its tail, with its mane shinning gold, It returned to the stall, full of joyful feelings. She imagined once more that she was a colt, and work was worth doing and life was worth living.
Achilles’ wrath, to Greece the direful spring Of woes unnumber’d, heavenly goddess, sing! That wrath which hurl’d to Pluto’s gloomy reign The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain; Whose limbs unburied on the naked shore, Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore. Since great Achilles and Atrides strove, Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove!
Declare, O Muse! in what ill-fated hour Sprung the fierce strife, from what offended power Latona’s son a dire contagion spread, And heap’d the camp with mountains of the dead; The king of men his reverent priest defied, And for the king’s offence the people died.
>>7314072 He brings up a very good point though. How mythicized does a work of fiction need to be before it becomes mythology? Take for instance Bloom's essay, "Freud: A Shakespearian Reading" wherein the oeuvre of Shakespeare is taken as wholly didactic in such a manner as the Bible, Torah or any other religious text. Clearly some works have such historical baggage that they must necessarily be said to have transcended the category of "mere literature" and are essentially mythology in their own right.
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