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.

An Interview With Albany’s Nippertown, July of 2021

Let’s be honest.

2021 was not the best of year’s for many of us with covid still rampant as well as for many of us still stuck working from home. But for me there were a few bright spots. Jai & I were able to create many new books for Poets & Authors at DeadMansPressInk & create a brand new open mic at The Fuzebox. One of the best moments for me was an interview with Jim Gilbert & Nippertown about my latest book ” We Rise Like Smoke Poems Psalms & Incantations Published by DeadMansPressInk. Dedicated to our girl, our cat Cordelia we lost in April. Life isn’t the same without her.

Best to you & yours in the coming New Year.

*****************

An interview with Jim Gilbert of Nippertown with poet R.M. Engelhardt about the Upstate New York Poetry Scene and about his new book ” We Rise Like Smoke Poems Psalms & Incantations” Published by DeadMansPressInk Now Available on Amazon 2021.

Nippertown Interview With R.M. Engelhardt

WAYLOST

WAYLOST

 

There upon that intent star:
Trust of wandering men: of truth The most reminding witness: we fix our eyes also: waylost: the wanderers:

~ Macleish

 

Something is
Different

Something
Has changed

Perhaps
We are just
All worn out

Tired


From the fight

And we want
Peace


Sleep

But the enemy
Is still there

Waiting

And we
Are losing
Sight of
The dream

As we stare
Through vacant
Eyes

Lost ourselves


After losing
So much already

Lives &
Trust

Depth &
Meaning

We are
Waylost

Without a
Plan

Or vision

We must
Find America
Again

Find ourselves
Once more

And again

And rise

 

~ R.M. Engelhardt

10.09.20 ©

 

 

#freedomandwhiskey

In The Burning Light

IN THE BURNING LIGHT

All animals
All creatures
All beauty

Dead.

How could
God let
This happen?

People asked

And then
God replied

“Men did”

And put
Out the
Fire with
Rain

As he
Opened
A door between
The clouds
Of smoke

Where the
Souls of all the
Creatures

Went

~ R.M. Engelhardt ©

Write.

Inspiration Poetry
Follow inspiration, not popularity.
Write from the soul, not for the world.
~ R.M. Engelhardt

WRITE.
Manifest power in words.
Write poetry.
Name your own humanity.
Ponder creation thru inner meaning.
Find hidden voices in the universal consciousness of soul.
Find yourself, and then return again.
Poetry is the sacred religion
Of both time & space older than
Civilization itself.
Poetry is dead.
Poetry is living.
Poetry is everything.
Poetry is a language
Unto itself that is understood.
Poetry will never die
It will still appear in places
Long after you are dust
So write.
That’s all.
That’s it.
Write.
~ R.M. Engelhardt