Poetry ...love it or hate it?

I like Wendy Cope.. she once ran a seminar at training weekend I was on and she set us a task of writing a poem whilst we were in the sauna /steam room to share at the following days session!

To lower the tone completely - just remembered another Wendy Cope poem, an early one:

"It really wouldn't do to let him stay,
Not for the first time,
Not today.
But she put on her new black knickers anyway."

I like a range of poetry especially the War Poets but I love this one. The title says it all.

Not waving but drowning by Stevie Smith

Nobody heard him, the dead man,   
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought   
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he’s dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,   
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always   
(Still the dead one lay moaning)   
I was much too far out all my life   
And not waving but drowning.

Lydia the poem about the loss of a child,speaking as one who has experienced this twice....it is spot on.

Didn't say you were advocating anything.

I'm only on here cos I don't want to do the ironing. [grump]

I'm not advocating any outpourings - just pointing out the drawbacks of posting them online, as crimson thinks the internet is the best place to do it.

Why outpour them then?

Sorry but to me it smacks of insincerity.

I guess you need to know your forum. Someone on another forum I frequent has had a bereavement recently, and the support from people has been wonderful, and this is a mostly men one.

Sadly, though, reaction to personal stories/poetry etc. on some internet sites or forums is not always kind...
I would think a negative response to one's outpourings would be a terrible kick in the teeth.

But sometimes the internet is the best place for an outpouring of grief, because you know no one 'has' to read it if they don't want to, and the kindness of strangers is very real and comforting. In 'the real world' I find that,even though I'm probably one of the least tactile people ever born, a hug is worth a thousand words. So, if anyone has had a torrid time, that's what they get.

Yes, jing I agree with your feelings around the privacy and sensitivity of it all. Personally, I'm with you on that. It's just that if someone feels the need to make it public, and finds it helps, then it's important that they can. Many people feel the need to have their stories heard - but perhaps an open forum may not be the right place for such deeply held emotions.
I remember be told once during my training, that in the telling of a life trauma, for instance, one must always be aware of how it is going to be received.

Sorry Butternut. Only just seen your question.

I just don't understand why anyone would feel the need to make verses like this public. Write it down if that helps, but keep it quietly in a drawer somewhere. Not produce it for all to see.

For me it would be too private.

Hello Ladies.
May I be so bold as to offer one of my recent poems?
It's a bit lengthy, but please be patient with an "old Fella"
Ta muchly!

FROM ACORN to MIGHTY OAK
From an acorn to mighty oak is a whole journey in life.
With measure to treasure, or regret o’er strife!
A seedling is raising its young leafs to the sun,
This surely is the way all life is begun?
A baby is born, as a seedling in style.
It grows, and in time a sapling has come.
Harsh winters, dry spells, stormy winds it prevails.
As saplings, they bend in life’s storms and fierce gales!
The weaker ones by natural process are thinned .
From sapling to tree, another step begins.
Our child has now gained knowledge, and skills,
As young trees, they come with cover to share
Able to help others, their troubles to bear.
In years to come large trees we now see,
Loosing new acorns for prosperity.
As age gently beckons, our oak is full grown,
Harbouring insects and birds, all make it their home,
Our young are full grown now, with lives of their own,
And “acorns” to succour, their future unknown.
Sturdy ships were made of oak in the past,
A very hard wood, ships built to last!

These we relied on when threatened by war,
They were wind driven by sail or rowed with the oar.
When nations clashed, they sailed with pride,
And fought great sea battles, side by side.
With colours flying high, they did not hide!
Many men wounded, many men died.
Our ancient oak trees should have our respect,
But, as in life, there is sometimes thoughtless neglect!
This is the story of our life as an OAK,
Some folk there are who will think this a joke!
But our life could be compared to the oak.
We are part of nature, as you will agree,
Read this with new knowledge,
The message you’ll see!

gramps©1/5/2012

Butter, threads have been disappearing from the Active list all day - some kind of GN Gremlin at work again!

I don't believe any person does this because they are unfeeling I think it is exactly the opposite People are so scared of hurting the person or not knowing what to say

They are also scared of intruding on grief

GNHQ - Wondering why this discussion was removed from the current topics list - it's time-line suggests it should still be available. Has it been reverse bumped?

It's such a heart-felt and such a bleak view of how bereaved parents are treated that you can't help being moved. At least, I can't.

It was exactly what happened when my husband died. It's still true now!

j04
Everyone has a story to tell, and need to tell it how they can. To have someone sit and just listen can be a real gift.

Can you help me understand why you find this writing sick-making?

No relation I just felt that she showed courage when she wrote down her feelings but I know many parents have read this and identified with the feelings

The lid comes down upon the sky
And everything is grey-
Our moods, and our feelings
Are directed by the day.

We burrow down and wait
For the sun to shine again,
And listen, listen, listen,
to the drumming of the rain.

And when the flooding's finished,
We'll emerge and live once more,
As if the floods that ebbed away
Weren't still lapping at our door.

Hope you can see the inferences!

I take it Kelly Cummings is no relation to e e.

No!

It's sick making.

It is so true for any bereavement.

It is awful and heartbreaking but I think it gives an insight into how we ignore the feeling of people who are grieving
Not because we don't care but because we have a fear of hurting people who are grieving