Admin's Gotta Read:The death of poetry

[davidmm]

I weep for English poetry, is it dead?
I weep for English poets, turned to dust.
I weep for this fair language lately fled
To realms of darkness, as we felt it must.

I weep for names forgotten, long since past,
Whose words once leapt in glory from the page.
I weep in saddest mem'ry of the vast
And endless range of works that should not age.

I weep for names forgotten, carve their words
In deepest cuts across the face of time.
Or stab your hearts with fabled, magic swords
And carve their names in blood, those names sublime.

I weep for English poetry, did it die?
Say, did l hear the muffled drum of death?
And as I weep, my tears shall multiply
As I pray not to hear its dying breath.

I weep for names forgotten, heaven's list,
A catalogue of glory, steeped in years;
A roll of honour, gazed on through the mist
Of never ending, salty, choking tears.

Oh! weep for English poetry, show your pride.
Remember lines of love, so fierce, intense.
Remember how they moved and satisfied;
Remember how they gratified your sense.

I weep for names forgotten, as I try
To call the roll of honour. clear and plain.
I weep for names forgotten, let me sigh
As each name haunts my mem'ry, fills my brain.

Let Milton, Keats and Byron take their place
With Shelley and the greatest Bard of all;
And Marlowe, Pope and Donne must always grace
The list of names forgotten, names writ tall.

I weep for English poetry, tend its grave.
I weep for words forgotten, buried deep.
I weep for names ignored, so proud and brave,
I weep as they endure eternal sleep.

I ask you to weep with me, share my tears.
And let us weep together, hand in hand.
Then maybe if we share these darkest fears,
Then maybe we will start to understand.

We weep for English poetry, is it dead?
Or can our tears revive it, make it whole?
If you and I remember, heaven-led,
Our tears of sad remorse may save its soul.

[malcolm]

Very fine poetry and an interesting if arguable theme - we certainly have quantity now if not quality: does the work of more modern English poets have any merit? Its certainly different to that of the past and the great names quoted. (And you missed out Emily Bronte my under-rated favourite!!!) But the excellence of your poem almost convinced me!

They have the same argument about modern art of course but only history will be able to judge the answer.

[jeannerené]

I love this poem. I don't know what else to say, but it is truly one of the most enjoyable reads I've experienced.

I enjoy both ... classical and modern, but I do understand your plea.

Thank you for posting David. Superbly writ.

.jeanne.

David wrote:

I weep for English poetry, is it dead?
I weep for English poets, turned to dust.
I weep for this fair language lately fled
To realms of darkness, as we felt it must.

I weep for names forgotten, long since past,
Whose words once leapt in glory from the page.
I weep in saddest mem'ry of the vast
And endless range of works that should not age.

I weep for names forgotten, carve their words
In deepest cuts across the face of time.
Or stab your hearts with fabled, magic swords
And carve their names in blood, those names sublime.

I weep for English poetry, did it die?
Say, did l hear the muffled drum of death?
And as I weep, my tears shall multiply
As I pray not to hear its dying breath.

I weep for names forgotten, heaven's list,
A catalogue of glory, steeped in years;
A roll of honour, gazed on through the mist
Of never ending, salty, choking tears.

Oh! weep for English poetry, show your pride.
Remember lines of love, so fierce, intense.
Remember how they moved and satisfied;
Remember how they gratified your sense.

I weep for names forgotten, as I try
To call the roll of honour. clear and plain.
I weep for names forgotten, let me sigh
As each name haunts my mem'ry, fills my brain.

Let Milton, Keats and Byron take their place
With Shelley and the greatest Bard of all;
And Marlowe, Pope and Donne must always grace
The list of names forgotten, names writ tall.

I weep for English poetry, tend its grave.
I weep for words forgotten, buried deep.
I weep for names ignored, so proud and brave,
I weep as they endure eternal sleep.

I ask you to weep with me, share my tears.
And let us weep together, hand in hand.
Then maybe if we share these darkest fears,
Then maybe we will start to understand.

We weep for English poetry, is it dead?
Or can our tears revive it, make it whole?
If you and I remember, heaven-led,
Our tears of sad remorse may save its soul.

[maipenrai]

I found this to be a excellent well written poem, a touch of class.
Bravo.
Bernie

[davidmm]

Malcolm, Jeanne, Mai

Thank you all for your comments.
The poem is not intended to be contentious; it tries to show my love of what I will call 'classical poetry.'
If I left out anyone's favourites, I apologise. Feel free to substitute your own names (providing the poem still scans correctly).