You might call Scarriet the Song and Poetry site.

We are restoring the beauty and the epigrammatic force of poetry by bringing to poetry all the virtues of song—while keeping poetry’s “integrity” as a “modern” product, which is not quite song.

The prose-and-speech experiments of modern poetry have our highest respect; the force of natural speech is vital to good poetry—although good poets understood this before modernism.

We fear modernism has gone too far in the other direction—away from all that used to make poetry poetry.  Poetry can be poetry.  Or poetry can be poetry.

By giving our readers a listen, by letting our readers hear the poems spoken and the songs sung (dare we use the word?) by our Scarriet editors, we think illumination and edification are possible.

The following are both a few minutes long. Click on them. Don’t be afraid.

The first is a poem, written by the Scarriet editors, called “Small High Cloud,” a poem which aspires to music.

The theme is the chaos of love and the wish to escape it. The ending metaphor is a “small high cloud.”

There is plenty of rude, complex, metaphoric, emotional, figurative speech in the poem, “Small High Cloud,” but all the more then does the poem, weighed down by its “rude speech,” struggle towards pure song as it reaches its close.

The first example, “Small High Cloud,” is talk which, in spite of its meaning, wants to be a song.

The second example is a song which longs, in spite of its music, to talk.   But it fails to talk, as it ends with two notes, which “say” good bye.

The second link below is a song written (and recorded in a somewhat embarrassing, amateur fashion) by the Scarriet editors, “Go Away (I Will See You)”—which aspires to be a cloud in its conflicted longing.



  1. Andrew said,

    February 20, 2016 at 7:18 pm

    The epigrammatic force of poetry shall indeed be restored – its beauty shall live again in the fresh blood of self-proclaimed poets who lacked integrity. Yes, Scarriet – your shame shall be avenged tenfold. We are poised, we are prepared, we await your divine command –
    we shall smear odes, in iambic pentameter, with their blood, on the walls of Modernity’s mansion (after violating the women, sacking the so-called sacred precinct, and melting down their idols of gold). We shall arrange their dismembered bodies in perfect compositions of structured verse. Their dithering effete word-craft shall be annihilated in an overwhelming act of merciless and mortal terror, inspired by the very muses themselves. Their expiring cries shall fall on in vain into the void as POETRY returns, riding a virgin white mare in the storm-clouds of Heaven.

    • thomasbrady said,

      February 20, 2016 at 7:37 pm

      My disciples are getting a bit carried away…

      • Andrew said,

        February 20, 2016 at 7:54 pm

        Speak, oh Scarriet, and we shall wreak vengeance at your command.

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