A Good Poem Or Poet …

A good poem or poet
is like a good cigar or a
good whiskey. Everyone
Has their own preferences.

~ R.M. Engelhardt ©2023

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.

The Stars In Night In Flight. A Poem By R.M. Engelhardt

New Poem From We Rise Like Smoke Poems Psalms Incantations Published by DeadMansPressInk Now Available on Amazon

THE STARS IN NIGHT IN FLIGHT

The stars in night in flight

The migration of the birds in
Flight revolutions of chaos around the
Circumference of the sun

(Like shadows)

But the gods haven’t noticed
As the starless night remains
Our dark evolution vast & sad
Beautiful & tragic

But Jesus doesn’t want to be found
& Buddha just doesn’t care
And Gaia just watches

Helpless

The Stars In Flight At Night

The migration of the birds in
Flight revolutions of chaos around the
Circumference of the sun

Humanity has risen
Not risen

Doesn’t notice
Doesn’t realize
Doesn’t care

Denies the stars
Denies itself

The stars migration
Love’s failure to love

One another

Each other

(Ourselves)

Death &
Beauty
Always the
Story of
Ourselves

Never
Ending

~ R.M. Engelhardt

Find Your Own Voice

Life, poetry in general is about experience and language. How you present this rare magic is key. The writer or poet is not an expert. It’s how you present it. In other words? Each God is a God and each man is a man or for that matter woman. A line is a line and beauty is beauty. Tragedy is tragedy and you own both. There are no workshops or religions that can ever teach you to be you or how to live or write. You must find these words by yourself and then put them down on paper or find your own way, your own path in the dark.

~ R.M. Engelhardt

georgeoppen1

 

 

“They have lost the metaphysical sense
Of the future, they feel themselves
The end of a chain
Of lives, single lives
And we know that lives
Are single
And cannot defend
The metaphysic
On which rest
The boundaries
Of our distances.”

~ George Oppen

Poetry Is …

Photo By Kristen Day
Photo By Kristen Day

 

Poetry is not something scattered like the wind, but an individual journey for the writer. A path, and not a competition. What is written is the truth of the poets life. Which is like a religion, sacred to that person.

 

~ R.M. Engelhardt

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Happy Birthday, Percy Bysshe Shelley

Born 4 August 1792, died 8 July 1822:

 

 

  1. Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
  2. Poetry is the record of the best and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds.
  3. What is life? Thoughts and feelings arise, with or without our will, and we employ words to express them. We are born, and our birth is unremembered and our infancy remembered but in fragments. We live on, and in living we lose the apprehension of life. How vain is it to think that words can penetrate the mystery of our being. Rightly used they may make evident our ignorance of ourselves, and this is much.
  4. Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.
  5. A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. His auditors are as men entranced by the melody of an unseen musician.
  6. The more we study the more we discover our ignorance.
  7. Change is certain. Peace is followed by disturbances; departure of evil men by their return. Such recurrences should not constitute occasions for sadness but realities for awareness, so that one may be happy in the interim.
  8. Music, when soft voices die, vibrates in the memory.
  9. War is the statesman’s game, the priest’s delight, the lawyer’s jest, the hired assassin’s trade.
  10. All spirits are enslaved which serve things evil.

Shelley was one of the major English Romantic poets and is regarded as among the finest lyric poets in the English language. He was a member of a close circle of visionary poets and writers that included Lord Byron; Leigh Hunt; Thomas Love Peacock; and his wife, Mary Shelley, the author of Frankenstein.

Percy_Bysshe_Shelley

Every Age …

Everyage

 

“Every age has its own poetry; in every age the circumstances of history choose a nation, a race, a class to take up the torch by creating situations that can be expressed or transcended only through poetry.”

~ Jean-Paul Sartre