Poetry


#1

Most contributors all to often have a tale of woe to tell and shortly it will be my turn,however it is my intention to contribute a mixture of fun and fact.but remember to take it all with a pinch of salt…

                                              GOD AND THE INTELLECT.

Of antiquity and ancient times, where gods took root in myth and rhyme and intellect did tread a wary path.
For that not understood was deemed beyond mere flesh and blood and intellect did suffer from it’s wrath.
Safe within their ivory tower dwelt those who’s god was of the hour and intellect alas spared not the rod.

For ancient times had served them well and much afeared they’'d break the spell, whilst Blake mussed over where those feet had trod.

Thus the sword saw gods unhitched whilst Darwin probed how life first twitched, Pandora’s box had never been so bold.

As Darwin burst upon the scene and shards of truth pierced king and queen, enlightenment did much to break their hold.

Tranquil island set aside Vesuvius took them in its stride, lts people for ever immortalised in ash.

For even as they kneeled their fate was somewhat sealed, it seems their choice of faith was some what rash.

Diplodocus brontosaurus beasts that shook the ground before us,truth never had a better chance.

Whatever faith you toast it’s fact first past the post and so the gods did polarise their stance.

Praise be our god all others we shun their love enforced at the point of a gun, it’s in the book they dare not disobey.

Their gods infused at an early age, the whip ensured thought strayed not the page, yet another book another day.

Yet am l so naive that my mind fails to perceive the twilight years of those that live alone.

For as they near the end my quill was no one’s friend as it sought to disarray their comfort zone.

Perhaps a god is what we need and thus is scattered well it’s seed and was subject well to all that was corrupt.

In my world of shake and pain paradiise is cold and plain where tranquility is that which life doth interrupt.


#2

Hi shookup,

Without sounding patronising, you have penned an excellent piece of work.
The question of the dawning into consciousness of the human race and its subsequent need for gods or a god is nicely juxtaposed with our need to explore, to rationalise and ask why. It effectively asks why our ability to discover, to wonder, can be stifled or suffocated by fixed and immovable forces that attempt to steer us in a certain direction.

I have just written something called Internal Dialogue, which I will tidy up and post here. It sort of fits in with what you have written above.
It’s well worth scrolling through work on Creative Corner? There are some very talented people who have created a vast range of ideas through prose and poetry, using humour, and pathos and also tackled Parkinson’s in a forthright and often humorous way.

Regards,

Jules77


#3

Hello Jules.

many thanks for your comments,it was on a visit to the lakes and dove cottage (Wordsworth abode) that woke me up.
As l stared down at his small rather untidy grave l was moved to realize what reality (unlike the rubbish that fills our t.v screens) was getting its foot in the door and would guide my arm until my own demise.
I look forward to your own input .
kind regards shookup.


#4

From the day we first breathe we are taught to believe that god racks up the score.
But after a while one has to smile at the thought of a heavenly door.
but if there is one thing l dread it’s after l’m dead fate throws up one last quirk.
I’m stuck in a queue with a million or two and find that the toilet’s don’t work.
Now it’s my turn to ascend or to burn, god has a frown on his face, “l have just had a look in my little old book and it seems you’r a border line case”.
A coin will be tossed my fingers are crossed, will l dwell with the good or the dregs then my bladder gives way with a glorious spray what should have been crossed was my legs.
God was not amused his halo had fused, boy was l in a fix, as quick as a wink l’d diluted his ink and ruined his bombay mix.
I dropped to one knee preparing to plea my reactions would have to be quick.
I gave him a towel and said with a growl “stop sending the plumbers to old nick”.His eyes started to gleam
which awakened my dream, on many a thought did l chew, at your final goodbye as you take your last sigh make sure you are sat on the loo.