Way back when I was young, stupid and unsaved, I enjoyed his poetry somewhat. Now I’m old, stupid and saved, and I don’t care.
It was the kind of poetry during the 50s and 60s that you dared not criticize.
I was a Freshman in HS, and I wrote poetry. To me his stuff was very very intimate and introspective. Like reading a 15 year old girl’s diary.
I read it today, and it’s junk.
Verse 3 of I Am Waiting
I am waiting for my number to be called
and I am waiting
for the Salvation Army to take over
and I am waiting
for the meek to be blessed
and inherit the earth
without taxes and I am waiting
for forests and animals
to reclaim the earth as theirs
and I am waiting
for a way to be devised
to destroy all nationalisms
without killing anybody
and I am waiting
for linnets and planets to fall like rain
and I am waiting for lovers and weepers
to lie down together again
in a new rebirth of wonder
Precisely what did you enjoy? He used to slur words like he was drunk or high and made little sense. (to me anyway) Rudyard Kipling he was not!