A new poem

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A new poem

Postby Saturn » Tue Dec 07, 2004 11:09 am

I know that thenewaustria is always looking for new poems from the poets on the forum here, so, for anyone who's interested, here's my latest, and my first completed poem for many months.
Apologies for the mawkishness of it, but I'm well out if practice!!!

When a man is parched,
One drop is not enough.
When drowning, a line must
Pull him clear of the sea.
To the famished and sore
A morsel will not suffice.
So, as in friendship and love
A crumb of comfort won't do
To ease the loneliness of soul.

In the dust you found me,
You raised me to the clouds;
But I flew too high it seems.
Hope dissolved as wax in the sun
Apollo's eye melts all such pride.
My wings now they are broken
And I've fallen from grace
To the dust once again
Scratching for comfort
Where all is dry and cold.

Some say Time's a healer,
A physician to the soul.
Some wounds go too deep
For his scythe to reach.
No poultice or swab
Can ever cleanse the sore
That will never heal.
Like Telephus of old,
My only hope of cure
Is that which gave the hurt.

The taste of half remembered joy
Once felt, only starves for more.
A surfeit of pleasure is needed
To glut stricken, withered hearts.
Was it too much for me to ask
That this love would endure?
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
Saturn
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Postby Saturn » Fri Dec 10, 2004 10:25 pm

This is absolute crap.

Why do I bother writing such garbage?
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
Saturn
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Posts: 3939
Joined: Mon Apr 12, 2004 10:16 am

Postby Despondence » Sat Dec 11, 2004 3:29 pm

A bit hard on on yourself, perhaps, although self-criticism is by far better than the lack of it. I thought it was rather a pretty piece of expressionism. Perhaps you should go through some imitations. I always enjoy that myself - then one is free to borrow freely from any style that has proved successful, and one does not need to worry about sounding original (which to me is a major pain in the ass - everything has already been written!).

I think, someone much wiser than me once said, "Only by writing badly do we learn to write well." Even Keats went through this the hard way :)
Despondence
 

Postby Saturn » Sat Dec 11, 2004 10:48 pm

:o Thanks for the comment Despondence, but any urge to write poetry has prettty much deserted me - it used to be an escape from real life, now real life has become my escape from the literary/intellectual prison cell which had held me for so long.

I suppose when you have an experience which shakes your faith in everything, poetry just doesn't have the same importance as it once did.
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
Saturn
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Posts: 3939
Joined: Mon Apr 12, 2004 10:16 am


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