On T.S. Elliot & The Death of Poetry. Another Opinion – R.M. Engelhardt

So apparently this article has been moving around a bit in Facebook groups. The writer is not the first to coin the term ” Poetry is Dead” or for that matter the poetic viewpoint that T.S. Elliot was the game changer. What is your idealism or belief? This is not so much a critique as merely a viewpoint ( *please read first). To me, as a poet his viewpoint is interesting but what he has seriously forgotten is that Elliot wrote Wasteland in a drastically changed world only a few short years after WW1. Hence why the poem & title “The Wasteland”

I see Elliot’s poems as the new siren, the almost near dead, broken muse attempting to somehow comprehend a vast amount of death & destruction in a new world trying to recover 100 years ago. This was the very beginning of our times. A fearful world which now after 2 world wars and the fear of possible nuclear war which we were born into. The old world of our humanity & our full relationship to the natural world disappeared in the fire. The constant is again the word ” Fear” which we still live with in our subconscious every single day. So it is of little imagining as to why we are poets of politics & protest, dark, brooding rebellion and of end times. Eliot was just the first victim grappling with this destitute reaction to a nightmare made reality and its horrors.

Simply put? The event of World War, destruction & the death of thousands was merely a razorblade cutting into the poet’s soul and the realization that we would all never be whole or the same ever again.

We are still broken.

We just don’t realize it.

~ R.M. Engelhardt

On T.S. Elliot & The Death of Poetry.





Long ago

She would bring me her




Fine wine


And Friends.


Never ending parties

And beautiful words

Magnificent and dressed in

Black, poetry written and

Cloaked in mystery and

In the eternal darkness

Of the night.


And now?

These days

She just brings me

A six pack of beer

On weekends

Sits with me

By my side waiting

Screams at me, nags at me

And tells me to





Mona Lisa In Overdrive

Mona Lisa In Overdrive

Communications From Elsewhere

In mind, place & sound
Mona Lisa in overdrive

Nearer to the ground
The wave

She becomes.

Dream state




A smile

Hiding behind a gaze


In any time

Or place or even

Upon my wall.


R.M. Engelhardt 2011