Difference between poetry and prose?

[billy]

The absurdity of twisting terminology produces all sorts of problems. Poetry, now encompassing anything and everything, has to be qualified when people really mean poetry: and so we have 'traditional poetry'. What if I compose a traditional prose-poem?

you would be loved

---

Why do I fall apart when he stays away
for days and days?
More importantly,
why does he stay away from me,
why does he leave me
…alone…wondering…writing…

“I sit alone here in my dark, silent room,
writing to you by candlelight
staring out the window at the falling snow;
each little snowflake
living its brief moment in the light of the street lamp,
lingering or hastened through this limelight
at the whim of the wind,
passing thus away,
back into the dark space of night,
becoming again invisible,
forgotten.

Here I wait for you.
I’ve waited for you all day.
You said you would come.
You did not come.
I ask myself in my solitude
‘Did he forget me?’
I ask myself
‘Why does everyone forget me?’
like a small girl left waiting alone outside
in the cold
after her school has closed for the day
and all her classmates
long since picked up and taken back home
to the warm embrace
of a family.

The small girl stands alone,
shivering in the cold,
unclaimed, orphaned…scared.
Nobody wants her,
nobody remembers her -
not even her own parents.

As I stare into the night,
white with falling snow,
deep inside me I feel this pain -
my brief time in the light of your love is done.

I ask myself,
‘How many days will he desert me for this time?
How many weeks?’

I ask myself,
‘Why did they forget me?
Why did they leave me alone,
waiting?’
Time after time, I only find one explanation -
I am not worthy.”

Ok, so now my prose is a poem. Because I put it in lines?
I disagree. It's the content that makes a poem in my opinion and how you shape the content is purely cosmetic. Poetry is not skin-deep.

Now that I separate this writing into lines, I think it is a poem and definitely not purely prose. But I want it written as a prose piece. When I have it in the form of prose, it has a connected flow that it doesn't have when I separate it into lines. To me, it is therefore poetic prose. A poem written in the form of prose.

when you break a line the line inherits something else, specially when done in a certain way.

each little snowflake
living its brief moment in the light of the street lamp,
lingering or hastened through this limelight
at the whim of the wind,
passing thus away,
back into the dark space of night,
becoming again invisible,
forgotten.

you bring the snow flake to life in a way that;

each little snowflake living its brief moment in the light of the street lamp, lingering or hastened through this limelight at the whim of the wind, passing thus away, back into the dark space of night, becoming again invisible, forgotten.

doesn't a pause or caesura count as a poetic device? , here you bring the flake to life in a way the other version didn't. it's been worked on in such a way as the presentation adds to the thing. here i'd say it's an okay poem. there it was an okay piece of prose.

while i don't know what the rules are for me prose poetry exists. the same as pigeon english exists. steak and kidney pie exists. its a mixture of prose and poetry in such a way as to be defined by me as prose poetry. and i think thats okay. i have problem with others not attesting to the existence of prose poetry. exciting stuff eh .

---

What do you think of "Une saison en enfer" by Rimbaud? Or the "verset"?

I think more in the attitude of writing poetry. The Bible is poetry, no matter how you translate it. It has that intent of forming reality. That's what I mean by poetry. Though poetry isn't limited to that attitude.

---

And that word "Fusion" is something Billy talked with me about one time. Though I then changed the word to "immanence". And it's similar to what you say with "grey area", though I was talking about the symbolic power of poetry, immanent in the "spiritual" experience of life. That spiritual order of human life, that poetry shapes. That "grey area" between reality and fantasy that shapes how we behave and what we believe. It's just that you're talking about writing, and forms of writing; and I'm talking about the attitude and intention of the writing when I say Poetry.

Rowens

That is v interesting. As to attitude and intention, you remind me of an old legal maxim: ''The state of a man's mind is as much a fact as that of his digestion''. Of course, no-one else knows either one. All that we have, is what a person has chosen to record on paper.

As to the Bible being poetry, it is not to me. It has poetry in it. But I do not consider this poetry-- merely the hazy attempt of a primitive people to recall and preserve the memory of snippets of their history:

This is the book of the generations of Adam. In the day that God created man, in the likeness of God made he him;

2 Male and female created he them; and blessed them, and called their name Adam, in the day when they were created.

3 And Adam lived an hundred and thirty years, and begat a son in his own likeness, and after his image; and called his name Seth:

4 And the days of Adam after he had begotten Seth were eight hundred years: and he begat sons and daughters:

5 And all the days that Adam lived were nine hundred and thirty years: and he died.

6 And Seth lived an hundred and five years, and begat Enos:

7 And Seth lived after he begat Enos eight hundred and seven years, and begat sons and daughters:

8 And all the days of Seth were nine hundred and twelve years: and he died.

9 And Enos lived ninety years, and begat Cainan:

10 And Enos lived after he begat Cainan eight hundred and fifteen years, and begat sons and daughters:

11 And all the days of Enos were nine hundred and five years: and he died.

12 And Cainan lived seventy years and begat Mahalaleel:

13 And Cainan lived after he begat Mahalaleel eight hundred and forty years, and begat sons and daughters:

14 And all the days of Cainan were nine hundred and ten years: and he died.

15 And Mahalaleel lived sixty and five years, and begat Jared:

16 And Mahalaleel lived after he begat Jared eight hundred and thirty years, and begat sons and daughters:

17 And all the days of Mahalaleel were eight hundred ninety and five years: and he died.

18 And Jared lived an hundred sixty and two years, and he begat Enoch:

19 And Jared lived after he begat Enoch eight hundred years, and begat sons and daughters:

20 And all the days of Jared were nine hundred sixty and two years: and he died.

21 And Enoch lived sixty and five years, and begat Methuselah:

22 And Enoch walked with God after he begat Methuselah three hundred years, and begat sons and daughters:

23 And all the days of Enoch were three hundred sixty and five years:

24 And Enoch walked with God: and he was not; for God took him.

25 And Methuselah lived an hundred eighty and seven years, and begat Lamech.

26 And Methuselah lived after he begat Lamech seven hundred eighty and two years, and begat sons and daughters:

27 And all the days of Methuselah were nine hundred sixty and nine years: and he died.

28 And Lamech lived an hundred eighty and two years, and begat a son:

29 And he called his name Noah, saying, This same shall comfort us concerning our work and toil of our hands, because of the ground which the Lord hath cursed.

30 And Lamech lived after he begat Noah five hundred ninety and five years, and begat sons and daughters:

31 And all the days of Lamech were seven hundred seventy and seven years: and he died.

32 And Noah was five hundred years old: and Noah begat Shem, Ham, and Japheth.

I believe that Rimbaud called this Hell thing as prose. But he was perhaps not the best judge, as he had just been shot by his chum, Verlaine, who did 2 years in clink for it. He was living back with Mum at the time.

i feel so small reading this. i really like 31...and he died
hat's off to you abu