What makes a poem … a poem? – Melissa Kovacs
What makes a poem … a poem? – Melissa Kovacs
View full lesson: http://ed.ted.com/lessons/what-makes-a-poem-a-poem-melissa-kovacs
What exactly makes a poem … a poem? Poets themselves have struggled with this question, often using metaphors to approximate a definition. Is a poem a little machine? A firework? An echo? A dream? Melissa Kovacs shares three recognizable characteristics of…
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Need a update on that end of the video .. ai taking over
PhD in English Literature
Teachers Roles
ELT/FLT – LSRW
Curriculum / Learning Purpose
21st Century skills
Global English
Gothic Novels
Poems/ Poetry / Literature based Research
The purpose of this research guidance is to provide an overview of the process for conducting a PhD research project. It is designed to help you plan your project, identify the resources and tools needed, and develop a timeline for completion. The guidance will cover topics such as: developing a research question, writing a proposal, designing an experiment or survey, collecting data, analyzing results, writing up the results, and presenting your findings. Finally, it will provide advice on how to effectively disseminate your results through publications and conferences.
Writing a proposal, THESIS & Article
Designing an experiment or survey
Analyzing results, Writing up the results
Presenting your findings
PhD Research Guidance in Civil, Environmental Science, PWD, Construction Engineering, English, Foreign Languages, Transport, Agriculture, River/Hills/Natural Resources, Ground Water, Waste Recycling: Research Guidance to complete Thesis and Article Drafting assistance, HR/Management/Business/Logistics…
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Useful, thanks 😢
TUPAC SHAKUR
Poetry is the Creation, Progression and the Conclusion of anything.
Poetry is the Creation, Progression and the Conclusion of anything.
Poetry is a Good
To me, any written piece of work that makes you feel something is a poem. Creativity must not be restricted the more you let it overflow, the more it'll grow.
Thanks, there is a vulnerable beauty to poetry that other mediums simply cannot capture. I try to tap into this myself. Thank you.
I spent time watching this
@4:50 That conclusion might need a revision. A lot has changed since.
I'd be curious to know what the author thinks.
If you are a poet, it's not an occupation it's a necessity.
Because I said its a poem
A silly wave,
The loudest laugh,
A sunny smile,
but deep, deep down,
inside my heart,
I want to cry
I want to scream and
i want to shout,
I feel the walls breaking,
cracking and shaking,
failing to contain this overwhelming wave
of emotions welling up inside my heart,
I wanna get help but I
don't know where to start.
This isn't the best, but thanks for reading lol
This ending about AI creating poetry would be way different now 😜
"A canvas painted with words so fine,
Yet depth fades, like an old wine,
If everything's verse, where's the line?
In the chaos of language, we resign."
– ChatGPT
"The robots were caught red-handed", the most happiest words for a poet.
القصائد العربيه لقرائه افضل بكثير
It is clear that seven years ago, they hadn't heard about the poet Chad Gepeté yet.
FOREVER LOST – Lili
I sat upon a lonely beach, watched the gulls and crabs devour
The remains of one large man, no clothes, no eyes, one hand
As I enjoyed the morning sun, the waves had washed him clean
I lazed there for a little while and then began to dream
And wondered of his story, his sad demise upon the sand. –
I slowly woke when day had cooled and found I wasn’t alone
A Spectre sat at my right side and smiled at my surprise
I was a wanderer he said, a Tramp, a Sailor wild
And I pray the sea will take me and scatter all my bones
I’ll tell the story of my murder, no profit now in lies
For I was just a Gypsy stolen from my tribe as child. –
Sunken deep within the mire of crime, four lads with time to kill
And kill we did whenever, we found the chance of coin
The guilty and the innocent, none spared or conscience felt
The hand of Satan on my shoulder, the tempest in my loins
But treachery’s around us all and treachery was dealt
When I stole within the clan, a wench I didn’t own.-
I lost my eyes, I lost my hand, I’m destined now to roam
The lonely shore for evermore, no life, no friends, no hand
He wandered back to where his form lay rotting on the sand
Sometimes I hear a wailing, from that Spectre in the foam
He cannot see, he can’t be free, his anger, hate demand
The death of any stranger who happens by his home. –
The beach looks so inviting for swimmers to its shore
Currents deep and fast, take the unwary to the deep
Every Summer takes its toll, the Spectre calls for more
The warning signs upon the sand only tempt the brave
Dragged out to sea among the fish, reward eternal sleep
There’ll be no sleep for the vagabond, the sand his lonely grave.
A poem is built by a man
No wilt.APoem is made of a heart without guilt
A POET today is a fluttering goose,made up by publishers ugmy bad wooes.
Wishes 4 money
Wish 4 control
U readers od voke
Have played out your role
Dandalf the sage and Old Norse Bard ❤
But does and should poetry exist?
I'm not going to lie the shout out to park and biggie that threw me for a loop. Did not see that one coming.