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Is Poetry a Dead Art? (Part 3)
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65 of 173
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Tominxster
18-02-2012
Originally Posted by mr. mustard:
“Hi Tomi I really liked this poem as it was straight from the heart - I think if you read enough poetry like I do you tend to sense honesty when it's communicated. I also liked the positive ending too

I'm a great believer in poetry being good therapy for both reader and writer.”

Thanks Musty. I love reading your poems

Originally Posted by patsylimerick:
“You have an extraordinary ability to inject wonder into the simplest of things. The mark of a true poet.



As far as I can remember - and that's not a great deal;
Mary Jane made me thicker - but happy, she made me feel



The pain sounds very fresh in this. If it's autobiographical, well done for being brave enough to walk away.”




Your right. We split a couple of years ago but the poem was tuther day. Took me a while to heal the heart however I've finally done it. Thank you for your lovely words
Tominxster
18-02-2012
The life is getting shorter
With every breath I draw
The pain is getting stronger
Can one really take much more

We come into this life dying
Our bodies crumbling away
Some die before they are born
Some will live another day

I know that I am lucky
I should of died 20 years gone past
Even so death is quickening
Time is passing fast

So enjoy every second given
We are lucky to draw the breath
What ever life throws at us
It's better than face death.
mr. mustard
18-02-2012
Originally Posted by Tominxster:
“Thanks Musty. I love reading your poems ”

Thanks Tomi

'So enjoy every second given
We are lucky to draw the breath
What ever life throws at us
It's better than face death'

The above verse says it all really - 'Seize the day'. Dead Poets Society is one of my favourite films and this poem definitely chimes with the message in it.
mr. mustard
18-02-2012
the mallard

I reached the bridge and halted
With darker weather due
But rainclouds had been thwarted
And skies above turned blue.

At this time of the season
The pond I pass by tends
To stop me for a reason,
It's filled with feathered friends.

Among the different flyers
Assembled thanks to luck
Was that sort which inspires:
My favourite kind of duck.

A mallard, slowly moving
Across the surface free,
The ripples there were soothing,
The bird a sight to see.

Did god or evolution
Create this drake so fair?
I had no real solution,
Nor did I really care.

My soul rose when it shimmered,
A deep green head unique,
The sunlight also glimmered
Upon a golden beak.

And after I'd consented
To watch it swim and preen
I left the bridge contented,
Healed by the mallard's sheen.


©
Biz
19-02-2012
Originally Posted by mr. mustard:
“the mallard

.............

My soul rose when it shimmered,
A deep green head unique,
The sunlight also glimmered
Upon a golden beak.
............

©”

I wonder if one day our souls will understand the miracle of it all Musty, or whether they will simply be snuffed out and oblivious.

Either way I keep enjoying the work of all the poets and hoping that if I hang back they'll keep coming in to interact with each other. Hope springs eternal.
mr. mustard
19-02-2012
Originally Posted by Biz:
“I wonder if one day our souls will understand the miracle of it all Musty, or whether they will simply be snuffed out and oblivious.

Either way I keep enjoying the work of all the poets and hoping that if I hang back they'll keep coming in to interact with each other. Hope springs eternal. ”

So many unanswered questions Biz. I do believe a 'soul' exists in all of us, even though it can't be seen. This is where I find a flaw in the scientific view of humankind - it may be able to prove 99% of what we are but it can't prove everything. And the remaining unsolved 1% possesses some of our most important elements.

On your other point, I'm sure that poets will always visit here
Silent-love
19-02-2012
All your contributions are brilliant, keep them coming.
mr. mustard
19-02-2012
Originally Posted by Silent-love:
“All your contributions are brilliant, keep them coming.”

Thank you on behalf of all the writers who post here Silent-love I'm not their spokesman but I know how important feedback is on this thread.

Thanks again
patsylimerick
19-02-2012
Inspired by Musty and Biz's musings

The Ways

The way you know your daughter’s face much better than you know your own.
The way an unknown woman’s story crosses the world to touch your soul.
They way the sun can chase a cloud and make a landscape dance with light.
The way the most afflicted somehow find Herculian strength to fight.
The way the shards of shells from distance glow like pulsars on the strand.
The way a thousand words and wisdoms flow through the gentle touch of hand.
And while I don’t know what I believe in, why I’m here or why I care;
These are the ways that make me think there’s definitely something else out there.
mr. mustard
19-02-2012
Originally Posted by patsylimerick:
“Inspired by Musty and Biz's musings

The Ways”

What a brilliant poem Patsy - if Biz & I inspired that I'm grateful! Among the many superb images I loved the bits about the daughter's face and the most afflicted finding strength. But the whole thing is thoroughly inspirational.

A well crafted and deeply moving write.
Biz
19-02-2012
Originally Posted by patsylimerick:
“
The Ways
...........
And while I don’t know what I believe in, why I’m here or why I care;
These are the ways that make me think there’s definitely something else out there.”

I agree with Musty - brief and brilliant. The atheist in me just knows there has to be more to it all, even though we're unlikely to ever know what.
snow.mountain
19-02-2012
Originally Posted by Biz:
“I agree with Musty - brief and brilliant. The atheist in me just knows there has to be more to it all, even though we're unlikely to ever know what. ”

Agreed.
Noe Soap
20-02-2012
In its subterranean Winter quarters
Once frozen plant-life slowly alters
In blind submission to unseen light
Rears imperceptably for it to smite

The frigid tenure of overnight chill
Green blades show out as if in will
Seeking solace of sun's solar rays
Our Spring is due in very few days

The yellow petals lie dormant below
Waiting to wave and upward to grow
Hibernation's protection under earth
Gives gestation to a welcome rebirth

A bright new crop of returning flower
Will pop up top at the crowning hour
Daffodils the garden's hidden bloom
Emerge from Nature's erstwhile tomb
Biz
21-02-2012
Originally Posted by snow.mountain:
“Agreed.”

Good! It's hardly worth wasting breath on arguing is it?

Originally Posted by Noe Soap:
“..............
Daffodils the garden's hidden bloom
Emerge from Nature's erstwhile tomb”

It's very uplifting isn't it Frank? My garden's awash with snowdrops with the occasional crocus, but the daffodils are gently rising, full of promise.
mr. mustard
21-02-2012
Originally Posted by Noe Soap:
“The yellow petals lie dormant below
Waiting to wave and upward to grow
Hibernation's protection under earth
Gives gestation to a welcome rebirth”

I love this one Frank - I've written quite a few spring poems but the difference here is how you've focussed on what's under the ground, waiting for new growth. 'Erstwhile tomb' is a cracking term, wish I'd thought of that
Noe Soap
21-02-2012
Thanks for the feedback Musty and Biz, cheers all & here's to the promised warmth we hear of but not drought
mr. mustard
21-02-2012
Anthem for the Holocaust

We never dreamt he really would gain power,
Especially after serving time in jail
But soon the little figure
Grew popular and bigger;
Elected as a god he couldn't fail.

The Crystal Night destruction was an omen;
A scene of sheer unleashed nocturnal spite,
So many Jews left battered,
So many windows shattered,
The streets aglow like seas of piercing light.

The leader's henchmen seemed immune to pleading,
No mercy heeded or a need for fuss,
Our synagogues fell flaming
While demagogues sat blaming
The problems of society on us.

Their whole regime was based on bloodline merit
Which placed the Master Race right at the top;
An epic undertaking
With bolts of thunder breaking,
A storm of cruelty nobody could stop.

Each foreign name and feature classed the masses,
A yellow star made my own people sheep,
With homosexuals fated
All lesser types were hated,
They shot dissenters knowing life was cheap.

We Jews soon had to loiter in a ghetto,
The loss of food and status tend to goad,
A slum day is a slow one
When you've become a no one
And bodies lie in gutters on the road.

Then by surprise to stations we were herded,
What unexpected chaos filled the lanes,
From dead Weimar to Warsaw
Those armoured thugs who foresaw
The future forced us onto waiting trains.

Packed close inside the blackness, I heard crying,
Some died but death is ordinary in
A box reserved for cattle,
I can't forget the rattle
And clanging on the railway tracks of sin.

At last the wheels ceased at some destination,
Doors opened, fresh air cooling my hot face,
In pastures rooted nowhere
I saw a signpost show where
A place called Auschwitz occupied a space.

Assurances made some feel rather hopeful,
'Much better than the ghetto anyway',
Their thoughts were never centred
On what fumed as they entered;
A smoking chimney just across the way.

I should have known the hosts would be unfriendly,
The camp was never built to please the guests,
Tattooed and checked and listed
We healthy few consisted
Of labourers; no more than useful pests.

The old and very young were led off swiftly,
While mothers screamed and children tried to clutch
Their hands, I stared and wondered,
One second and you're sundered
From parents and the only loving touch.

Through random violence, fear and naked roll-calls
In time I learned what Auschwitz was about;
From every new appearance
And every disappearance
Of every frail arrival I found out.

That citadel contained divided regions;
A section where the slaves like me would toil
And for the weak unable
To stand or work in Babel
A slaughterhouse to make the soul recoil.

If you ask me what's evil, I'll inform you
It's friends who think a shower is their prize
Until the guards drop pellets
And everyone can tell it's
The end as poison gas begins to rise.

A death machine designed to run like clockwork,
The first conveyor belt of genocide,
Apart from heated ovens
The devil's darkest covens
Are stinking pits for innocents who died.

Our prison even lured the men of science,
Wise doctors quite contented to attach
Electrodes to discarded
Shells labelled as 'retarded',
The study of a docile trusting batch.

The commandant could switch off in an instant,
A wife to love and family to rear,
We starved while he ate dinner,
He grew fat, we grew thinner,
At home he had a conscience that was clear.

The welcome troops who came to liberate us
Discovered huts where living corpses slept,
They'd witnessed bombs and madness
Yet here they gazed in sadness,
The day when even hardened soldiers wept.

So if a fool should say it didn't happen,
If any claim my testament's not true,
Absorb the facts and listen,
As sure as stars that glisten
The millions whisper still to me and you.


©
Tominxster
21-02-2012
Oh Musty.
What a poem. Really got to me.

Your very talented.
mr. mustard
21-02-2012
Originally Posted by Tominxster:
“Oh Musty.
What a poem. Really got to me.

Your very talented.”

Thanks Tomi I know the poem was very sad but I wanted to give a little sense of what it must have been like in places like Auschwitz. Not that any of us can ever know the awful reality.

Originally Posted by Noe Soap:
“Thanks for the feedback Musty and Biz, cheers all & here's to the promised warmth we hear of but not drought ”

Hi Frank - keep warm my friend
patsylimerick
21-02-2012
Originally Posted by Noe Soap:
“In its subterranean Winter quarters
Once frozen plant-life slowly alters
In blind submission to unseen light
Rears imperceptably for it to smite

The frigid tenure of overnight chill
Green blades show out as if in will
Seeking solace of sun's solar rays
Our Spring is due in very few days

The yellow petals lie dormant below
Waiting to wave and upward to grow
Hibernation's protection under earth
Gives gestation to a welcome rebirth

A bright new crop of returning flower
Will pop up top at the crowning hour
Daffodils the garden's hidden bloom
Emerge from Nature's erstwhile tomb”

This thread is mood-altering, I've decided. This one here ^^^ had me looking for me sunglasses; the one below had me reaching for me tissues.

Originally Posted by mr. mustard:
“Anthem for the Holocaust

We never dreamt he really would gain power,
Especially after serving time in jail
But soon the little figure
Grew popular and bigger;
Elected as a god he couldn't fail.

The Crystal Night destruction was an omen;
A scene of sheer unleashed nocturnal spite,
So many Jews left battered,
So many windows shattered,
The streets aglow like seas of piercing light.

The leader's henchmen seemed immune to pleading,
No mercy heeded or a need for fuss,
Our synagogues fell flaming
While demagogues sat blaming
The problems of society on us.

Their whole regime was based on bloodline merit
Which placed the Master Race right at the top;
An epic undertaking
With bolts of thunder breaking,
A storm of cruelty nobody could stop.

Each foreign name and feature classed the masses,
A yellow star made my own people sheep,
With homosexuals fated
All lesser types were hated,
They shot dissenters knowing life was cheap.

We Jews soon had to loiter in a ghetto,
The loss of food and status tend to goad,
A slum day is a slow one
When you've become a no one
And bodies lie in gutters on the road.

Then by surprise to stations we were herded,
What unexpected chaos filled the lanes,
From dead Weimar to Warsaw
Those armoured thugs who foresaw
The future forced us onto waiting trains.

Packed close inside the blackness, I heard crying,
Some died but death is ordinary in
A box reserved for cattle,
I can't forget the rattle
And clanging on the railway tracks of sin.

At last the wheels ceased at some destination,
Doors opened, fresh air cooling my hot face,
In pastures rooted nowhere
I saw a signpost show where
A place called Auschwitz occupied a space.

Assurances made some feel rather hopeful,
'Much better than the ghetto anyway',
Their thoughts were never centred
On what fumed as they entered;
A smoking chimney just across the way.

I should have known the hosts would be unfriendly,
The camp was never built to please the guests,
Tattooed and checked and listed
We healthy few consisted
Of labourers; no more than useful pests.

The old and very young were led off swiftly,
While mothers screamed and children tried to clutch
Their hands, I stared and wondered,
One second and you're sundered
From parents and the only loving touch.

Through random violence, fear and naked roll-calls
In time I learned what Auschwitz was about;
From every new appearance
And every disappearance
Of every frail arrival I found out.

That citadel contained divided regions;
A section where the slaves like me would toil
And for the weak unable
To stand or work in Babel
A slaughterhouse to make the soul recoil.

If you ask me what's evil, I'll inform you
It's friends who think a shower is their prize
Until the guards drop pellets
And everyone can tell it's
The end as poison gas begins to rise.

A death machine designed to run like clockwork,
The first conveyor belt of genocide,
Apart from heated ovens
The devil's darkest covens
Are stinking pits for innocents who died.

Our prison even lured the men of science,
Wise doctors quite contented to attach
Electrodes to discarded
Shells labelled as 'retarded',
The study of a docile trusting batch.

The commandant could switch off in an instant,
A wife to love and family to rear,
We starved while he ate dinner,
He grew fat, we grew thinner,
At home he had a conscience that was clear.

The welcome troops who came to liberate us
Discovered huts where living corpses slept,
They'd witnessed bombs and madness
Yet here they gazed in sadness,
The day when even hardened soldiers wept.

So if a fool should say it didn't happen,
If any claim my testament's not true,
Absorb the facts and listen,
As sure as stars that glisten
The millions whisper still to me and you.


©”

An exceptional poem. It's almost beyond our comprehension, the evil of it. The image of the children sundered from their parents, and the parents from their children, breaks my heart everytime I encounter it. What horror.
Noe Soap
21-02-2012
Thanks patsylimerick for the mention alongside fulsome tribute to Musty and his sombre subject that is inhumanity's nadir. The thread needs astute readers, appreciated. Frank
Noe Soap
21-02-2012
Originally Posted by patsylimerick:
“This thread is mood-altering, An exceptional poem. It's almost beyond our comprehension, the evil of it. The image of the children sundered from their parents, and the parents from their children, breaks my heart everytime I encounter it. What horror. ”

I know the work put in Musty on this one, so sad and true. Frank
Biz
21-02-2012
Hope you're feeling a bit better Frank.

Originally Posted by mr. mustard:
“Anthem for the Holocaust

©”

Originally Posted by patsylimerick:
“This thread is mood-altering, I've decided.

An exceptional poem. It's almost beyond our comprehension, the evil of it. The image of the children sundered from their parents, and the parents from their children, breaks my heart everytime I encounter it. What horror. ”

I read Anthem for the Holocaust earlier today, and have been feeling unsettled ever since. The images from the liberation of the concentration camps can never be erased from the memory.
mr. mustard
22-02-2012
Originally Posted by patsylimerick:
“This thread is mood-altering, I've decided.

An exceptional poem. It's almost beyond our comprehension, the evil of it. The image of the children sundered from their parents, and the parents from their children, breaks my heart everytime I encounter it. What horror. ”

Originally Posted by Noe Soap:
“I know the work put in Musty on this one, so sad and true. Frank”

Originally Posted by Biz:
“I read Anthem for the Holocaust earlier today, and have been feeling unsettled ever since. The images from the liberation of the concentration camps can never be erased from the memory.”

Thanks so much for the comments everyone

I agree about the different moods here Patsy, I feel one of the thread's greatest strengths has always been its variety.

The Holocaust is hard to grasp. As horrifying as filmed footage is, the pain of having your entire family wiped out by such cruel means is almost incomprehensible. I deliberately mentioned those who deny the truth because it did happen on that scale and the numbers weren't exaggerated.
mr. mustard
23-02-2012
With the goal of making a permanent file, I've now located 500 poems of mine on DS

I haven't even reached this thread yet, so there's still a long way to go
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