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.

[Emily]

Great idea for a poem!!
Keep on writing!

[Woody]

wow! what a come back, Moon! I find this by far your strongest piece. stunning imagery. is this why you've been away? crafting this beautiful quilt?

[Moonie]

Haha.....wow..Thanks woody!! This piece took about an year to come together...perhaps the reason why the stanzas don't connect that well together......
ps.. happy world poetry day, my friend!

[Woody]

oh is that what it is? better get going and write me a masterpiece, then.

[Aries]

Another favorite. It speaks to me of a society and its entropy through time, the loss of innocence and an industrial age of soulless artifacts that will long outlast its denizens. I love the imagery.

[Moonie]

And I love this review as well! :))))
Thanks, Aries, for taking the time! :))

[ANTO]

And the oligarchs burn the only paper that counts these days, for fuel. This was such a desolate place you penned that I was looking for the exit before it dawned on me its just like the backstreets of any of todays mega-cities.
Very good imagery - excellent walkthrough - don't let go my hand !!

[Moonie]

My dear Anto, you've concluded quite correctly...this is indeed the state of all the backstreets of our mega cities..
this little poem took almost an year to come together...the stanzas, lines and words on here were changed so many times by me...that I've completely lost count of the number of edits I made...probably the reason why the stanzas do not connect that well together...they were written by a different me at a different phase of my life....hope you enjoyed...
Remember to wear a long trench coat if you can, so I can get hold of the hem if the hands separate.....

[ANTO]

Wow - a year - I would have certainly given up. You don't think they connect well ? I thought they reflected the dystopian nature of the theme just great as they are.
I'll have to borrow a trench coat. My dad has a lovely silver grey mohair one with a long hem for grabbing. lol