Paper City

 'I think we are in rats' alley  Where the dead men lost their bones.'

Through rat alleys and coal streets,

in the blackened dawn and hot breeze,

hand-in hand we strolled.

A strange enough land to tell, where,

the grown-ups had forgotten everything.

And the children just got old...

Written word was your memory there,

experience on leaflets and wood shavings was sold.

Madness was not rewarded,

Intelligence hardly acknowledged.

Love was a concept, much too profound,

to be felt by the common folk.

Gossip about it hung like the

smell of dead fish on every nook.

         Telescopes were put handy to keep

      accounts of family and friends.

         Opera glasses were searched for, to peep

      out of keyholes and door ends.

         Down every lane, there was grief.

      Fear walked down every bend.

         None had any courage to keep;

      spines were bought on rent.

The summers there were a misery, 

And even the winters were hardly cold.

Autumn rains had turned acidic.

And spring berries bitter as a gourd.

     Tea talks swirled smells of sawdust,

     distilled water and roses of cardboard.

     Morning toasts were moist with smog,

     apricot jams were hard as an ice fjord.

At the sunset hour,

paper boats sailed down paper seas,

And paper marigolds swayed in bushes,

that were visited by paper bees

Books and poetry had no magic left.

Bedtime tales did not wash away fears...

No sword would have them killed.

Darkened under some heavy magic spell...

Trapped in a black potion jar...

The whole country slept under a nightmare quilt...

Author's Note

The description is from T.S.Eliot's famous poem, "The Wasteland", from which the phrase in the 1st line is taken.
Sorry if I haven't reviewed back...I was inactive for a long time there...

Reviews

[An owl on the moon]

It seems you've written the depth of novel in your poetic sighs. There are vast empty spaces, the vagrancy of souls wandering the streets, seasons of struggling, surviving, aching in the wondering. I find myself at the end, in this sleeping country so void of life, wishing a poet like you might wander there and breathe life into them once more.

[Moonie]

Hey! I am so very sorry to be this late to reply...but i wasn't active on this site for a month because of some issues. I agree with you...only a poet or an artist who understands the importance of the gift of life can breathe some soul into this dull country...

[An owl on the moon]

No worries. I just hope all the issues have been resolved for you and that only peace remains. And yes, as for this country, we must keep dreaming and writing of better tomorrows.

[R.E. Ray]

You certainly speak to millions with this poem. It's an emptiness and despair painted in words, and the reader is left wondering "what's next?" Where do I go from here? Your line "Books and poetry had no magic left," is among the most powerful lines, and yet this poem reflects hope... because we're now thinking about it. Nice work.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

I'm a huge fan of Eliot's. This offering does his memory justice. I remember The Wasteland and I can quote most of "The Love Song" by heart...it's probably one of the most often quoted poems on the planet. This piece reminds me of the line from chapter one of The Waste Land where Eliot says, "I will show you fear in a handful of dust". Perhaps you have shown us fear in a wadded ball of paper...thrown at the cosmic wastebasket perhaps? (smile) Nothing I know strikes so much at the heart of a true poet. I believe the portion to which you refer here is the second chapter or "A Game of Chess". Eliot was a master of the mundane and the question/answer sort of soliloquy that engaged the mind of his reader in his poetry. I enjoyed this. But thank you for the trip down memory lane to revisit an old friend...even if the detour did take us through a bit of "waste land". This was a very good read.

[MAC]

this is DeadPoet good!!! not much more to type about it.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

wow...this echoes the Beats...and is a really good testament to how things are now...besides the global warming...we have a coldness about us now, technology, instant gratification, kindles...but a lack of reading actual books, of turning pages...of reading poetry, of appreciating the written word...our language all chopped up with text language...
it's different...and it is really sad for us English teachers to see this.

j.

[Moonie]

Thank you for the lovely words, sir! :))
I concur about all the nuisances you've pointed out.

[KeithEBaucum]

I'm a fan of your art or should I say groupie lol. I'm your fan and groupie.

[Moonie]

Thank you for the kind words! I feel truly honoured! :)))

[Moonie]

Thank you for the kind words! I feel truly honoured! :)))

[ShadowHuntress]

I really loved it. It is a great poem.

[Moonie]

Thank you, shadowhuntress....glad you enjoyed! :))

[ShadowHuntress]

Your welcome Moon's fairest daughter

[Writer at last! Sky ~]

I think your concept of paper city is somewhat true now a days. People are simply running like mad behind everything. Madness was not rewarded, Intelligence hardly acknowledged. So True!! Great work :)

[Daydreamer]

You are something insanely good! 😍😍😍💫💫💫🌌🌌🌌🌌

[Moonie]

Thanks, sagacious!! What a comment! :))))
You make me smile ear to ear!!! :* :*

[WastedTime]

"I should of been a pair of ragged claws." tse

I'm glad I read this.

[Moonie]

Ahh...eliot...isn't he just amazing....one of the finest poets I must say....
thanks for visiting my page! I am glad you read this...:)))