Question:

Will the young poets read this?

by  |  earlier

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What is wrong with our young poets who send their

poems to this site.

Why do their submissions have no sunshine but are

as black as night.

Are their minds, so troubled causing doom and gloom

to be the subject of the day.

Where has all of the happiness gone; for their words

contain no joyful lay.

Are we the older generation to blame for that state

they find themselves in.

Have we failed to teach them the joys we knew in our

day lived without sin.

For to have no words of joy can be referred to as a minor

sin; this I know.

These times we live in are troubled, but should be no cause

for poems of trouble and woe.

My dearest young poets; cease from now on writing of that

seemingly troubles your minds.

Write of that which you remember, those joyous thoughts,

of cherished happier times.

May this old gent send his love to you all, and may your young lives be all you wish them to be.

Robert

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6 ANSWERS


  1. OH, thank you Robert, for your kind and concerned words, you are right, today's youth is sad, they are maturing too fast and learning that this world isn't a fun and exciting place, the parents of today have no control and the children know this and have no boundaries. Thank you for your love and your knowledge.


  2. You and Laura have said it already. I agree with you Robert.  How can people without God know His love? I've not heard any finer statements and sentiments spoken lately. Thank you for bravely speaking up!

  3. it's a good poem [rhymes :)]

    but as a young poet i just write what i feel. sorry it happens to be sad! can't help how we feel, but it's what we feel at hte spur of hte moment. and i find it easier to write about when i'm feeling sad then when i'm writing about hte sun or a flower. i take inspiration from what happens in my life. it's not your fault, just life

  4. I write what I think. What's the problem with that?

    Think of Emily Dickinson....

    Here is a few of mine.

    "Lies in the Dark"

    We play besides stones and fire,

    Knives and guns.

    Pretending they are flowers and roses.

    Open your windows.

    We work next to liars and killers,

    Money and force.

    Masquerading as heros to the poor.

    Open your door.

    We sleep among echoes of the past,

    Forgetting and ignoring.

    Disguising the truth with slaughtering lies.

    Open your eyes.

    We die - in the dark.

    J-B.T 2008

    "House of Sorrow."

    Look into the window

    Lay my hand upon the icy glass

    See the misery and sorrow

    Unhappiness seeps through the panes past

    Searching for a door

    To let out the sadness

    Searching through the gloom

    To let in the happiness

    Look into the window, my sweet darling

    Tell me what you see

    Place your hands upon the walls, light child

    Do you not feel me?

    Help me let this sadness out

    Locked inside this house of depression and sorrow

    Clawing feverishly with doubt

    Pessimistically thinking of tomorrow

    Watching this wretched torture

    It’s pulling me down on the floor

    This misery is locking me in

    All you see is dreadful slaughter

    Blood streaked across the door

    Which I find upon looking within

    Help me let this sadness out

    Locked inside this house of depression and sorrow

    Clawing feverishly with doubt

    Pessimistically thinking of tomorrow

    Hold tight to my soul

    Don’t want to go without

    Look through the keyhole

    I know I’ll lose myself

    Look to the ground

    Giving up this game of hide and seek

    This key will never be found

    There must be more than doom

    I’ve searched through the gloom

    To let in the happiness

    I’ve searched for the door

    To let out the sadness

    There must be something more

    Look to the sky

    I know I will never truly die

    Just like I know I will never truly fly

    Help me let this sadness out

    Locked inside this house of depression and sorrow

    Clawing feverishly with doubt

    Pessimistically thinking of tomorrow

    J-B.T 19 February 2008

  5. Point noted, Robert. Where have you been? I really miss you and your super duper joyful poems.

  6. Hey Robert! Um...thanks for that. I liked your poem. I think that we all have had some pretty rough times, and I personally like to remember my pain because there is joy in being out of the situation you were once in.

    Writing poetry can ease the pain, and bring out feelings that you feel like you can't talk to most people about, and even if you did, they probably wouldn't even listen.

    It doesn't mean that we have no joy.

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