Welcome to Shards of Silver

Marianne Moore once defined 'poetry' as "Imaginary gardens with real toads in them". I found this such a striking definition of something that captures the values of poetry that I couldn't leave it alone.

I've been writing - attempting - poetry since I knew how to hold a pen(cil). Some poems I write I like, most I don't, but every now and then I feel compelled to write them down, like a flush of emotion that demands access to some sort of visible medium that can later be accessed and reconsidered. I thought, maybe, that sharing these poems could help me out a little. I welcome critiques, critical and constructive (though I do, of course reserve the right to ignore the sharper sides of people's tongues ;) ), and hope that in return for your help I can leave you with something better than sorry attempts at a craft which only a tiny few have ever really mastered.

Clear Skies~V

Monday, March 29, 2010

Gutless Generation

TV blaring video games firing guns
and automobiles,
Cacaphony of clamors and lost coins rambling
Drowning out sermons of book or parent.
Runaway junkie daughter parked on
her corner of street,
Selling wares only the rich can keep;
But Joe Blo'll pay the eleven minutes
and she'll get her fix eventually.
Teenage bumblers hop on a bus:
Theirs is a different part of town
with shopping malls.
Shiny cars line the streets and behind
silver glass dolls display wares only they will wear but everyone buys.
The church is dead and God needs a megaphone,
Responsible adults need shotguns 
to get anywhere with the rotten core of society these days.

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