POEM ABOUT BOSNIA

Discussion in 'Poetry Corner' started by durchy, Dec 30, 2009.

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  1. See the new version, below.
     
  2. A BOY CALLED ENIS (or DONJI VAKUF)

    The dismal evening whithers and the roseatte dawn breaks through.
    The snow a distant memory, cherished only by the mountains.
    The fields lie fallow, the illusion of green,
    Belied by their bitter harvest, fed with blood.

    While the factory breathes the heady fumes of peace,
    Outside the walls the town lies broken and seethes.
    No gunshots now, no bombs, no words,
    But hate clouds the cafes and makes new mothers weep.

    The hummocks where the grass grows lushest,
    Stand like hoos to ancient Kings,
    But we know the truth,
    We, and the children, and the flies.

    An empty land, cursed by history and passion,
    Is lit up in flames by your shining, hazel eyes.
    An angel born of heaven's triple glory,
    Even as here, God counts his regrets, and dies.
     
  3. That was very moving.
    'til the last line-WTF!!!
    And from the title I thought it was going to be about the dipstick from Dukes of Hazzard.Do keep this up,you have a real flair for polarizing opinion.
     
  4. The last line could probably do with some work but I'll admit I can't think of another way of expressing what I'm trying to say without being too obvious and cr@p.
     
  5. You could try using the medium of rhyme.It can stop you getting into all sorts of problems.The downside being it can stray into limerick territory if done badly.
     
  6. My poems that rhyme aren't very good apparently. I am happy with the rest of this one and actually thought that last line was OK but I'll re-think. Do you see what I'm trying to say with it?
     
  7. Piss taking and slagging aside...

    The image of a cigarette put out in double cream is totally at odds with the image of smoky water.

    see here:

    Smoky Water
    [​IMG]

    Cigarette stubs
    [​IMG]

    I might be taking the end of your poem the wrong way, but that is what I see in my mind. You, as an aspiring poet, are supposed to paint the picture in words.
     
  8. Last two lines changed due to not getting my meaning across properly. Any better now?:

    A BOY CALLED ENIS (or DONJI VAKUF)

    The dismal evening whithers and the roseatte dawn breaks through.
    The snow a distant memory, cherished only by the mountains.
    The fields lie fallow, the illusion of green,
    Belied by their bitter harvest, fed with blood.

    While the factory breathes the heady fumes of peace,
    Outside the walls the town lies broken and seethes.
    No gunshots now, no bombs, no words,
    But hate clouds the cafes and makes new mothers weep.

    The hummocks where the grass grows lushest,
    Stand like hoos to ancient Kings,
    But we know the truth,
    We, and the children, and the flies.

    An empty land, cursed by history and passion,
    Is lit up in flames by your shining, hazel eyes.
    An angel born of heaven's triple glory,
    Even as here, God counts his regrets, and dies.
     
  9. Thats better.
     
  10. Thank you, Scarletto.
     
  11. Durchy,

    Why Donji Vakuf?
     
  12. See Durchy,said you have a flair for polarising opinion!
     
  13. That's where I met him. People can take the p1ss all they like but I went to Bosnia as a bloke full of prejudice against the whole country and the whole population but had my mind changed simply by sitting down next to a Muslim kid and sharing a few moments of humanity. Bosnia may have ripped itself apart but ordinary, good people can be found anywhere. Buying a kid an ice-cream and having a mutually unintelligible conversation in the middle of the aftermath of a civil war can be more of an education than three years at uni or a thousand church sermons.
     
  14. When were you and do you remember where in Donji Vakuf you met the little boy?