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23/F/Durham
Writing is there when I need it most, that I know for sure. Catch me on Instagram - lizb_honest Copyrights -all orginal poems done by ...
Illinois
I enjoy writing; I cook for a living.
Age 76 Cape Town See: http://DietExperiments.yolasite.com http://SpiritualViews.proboards.com http://lajerpix.blogspot.com http://gurth.weebly.com http://sites.google.com/site/AstrologyArticles http://sites.google.com/site/AstrologyofRelationships etc
Poems
Michael R Burch
May 2021
THE RUIN in a Modern English Translation
"The Ruin" is one of the great poems of English antiquity. This modern English translation of one of the very best Old English/Anglo-Saxon poems is followed by footnotes, a summary and analysis, a discussion of the theme, and the translator's comments.
THE RUIN
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
well-hewn was this wall-stone, till Wyrdes wrecked it
and the Colossus sagged inward ...
broad battlements broken;
the Builders' work battered;
the high ramparts toppled;
tall towers collapsed;
the great roof-beams shattered;
gates groaning, agape ...
mortar mottled and marred by scarring ****-frosts ...
the Giants’ dauntless strongholds decaying with age ...
shattered, the shieldwalls,
the turrets in tatters ...
where now are those mighty Masons, those Wielders and Wrights,
those Samson-like Stonesmiths?
the grasp of the earth, the firm grip of the ground
holds fast those fearless Fathers
men might have forgotten
except that this slow-rotting siege-wall still stands
after countless generations!
for always this edifice, grey-lichened, blood-stained,
stands facing fierce storms with their wild-whipping winds
because those master Builders bound its wall-base together
so cunningly with iron!
it outlasted mighty kings and their claims!
how high rose those regal rooftops!
how kingly their castle-keeps!
how homely their homesteads!
how boisterous their bath-houses and their merry mead-halls!
how heavenward flew their high-flung pinnacles!
how tremendous the tumult of those famous War-Wagers ...
till mighty Fate overturned it all, and with it, them.
then the wide walls fell;
then the bulwarks were broken;
then the dark days of disease descended ...
as death swept the battlements of brave Brawlers;
as their palaces became waste places;
as ruin rained down on their grand Acropolis;
as their great cities and castles collapsed
while those who might have rebuilt them lay gelded in the ground:
those marvelous Men, those mighty master Builders!
therefore these once-decorous courts court decay;
therefore these once-lofty gates gape open;
therefore these roofs' curved arches lie stripped of their shingles;
therefore these streets have sunk into ruin and corroded rubble ...
when in times past light-hearted Titans flushed with wine
strode strutting in gleaming armor, adorned with splendid ladies’ favors,
through this brilliant city of the audacious famous Builders
to compete for bright treasure: gold, silver, amber, gemstones.
here the cobblestoned courts clattered;
here the streams gushed forth their abundant waters;
here the baths steamed, hot at their fiery hearts;
here this wondrous wall embraced it all, with its broad *****.
... that was spacious ...
Footnotes and Translator's Comments
by Michael R. Burch
Summary
"The Ruin" is an ancient Anglo-Saxon poem. It appears in the Exeter Book, which has been dated to around 960-990 AD. However, the poem may be older than the manuscript, since many ancient poems were passed down ****** for generations before being written down. The poem is an elegy or lament for the works of "mighty men" of the past that have fallen into disrepair and ruins. Ironically, the poem itself was found in a state of ruin. There are holes in the vellum upon which it was written. It appears that a brand or poker was laid to rest on the venerable book. It is believed the Exeter Book was also used as a cutting board and beer mat. Indeed, we are lucky to have as much of the poem as we do.
Author
The author is an unknown Anglo-Saxon scop (poet).
Genre
"The Ruin" may be classified as an elegy, eulogy, dirge and/or lament, depending on how one interprets it.
Theme
The poem's theme is one common to Anglo-Saxon poetry and literature: that man and his works cannot escape the hands of wyrde (fate), time and death. Thus men can only face the inevitable with courage, resolve, fortitude and resignation. Having visited Bath myself, I can easily understand how the scop who wrote the poem felt, and why, if I am interpreting the poem correctly.
Plot
The plot of "The Ruin" seems rather simple and straightforward: Things fall apart. The author of the poem blames Fate for the destruction he sees. The builders are described as "giants."
Techniques
"The Ruin" is an alliterative poem; it uses alliteration rather than meter and rhyme to "create a flow" of words. This was typical of Anglo-Saxon poetry.
History
When the Romans pulled their legions out of Britain around 400 BC, primarily because they faced increasing threats at home, they left behind a number of immense stone works, including Hadrian's Wall, various roads and bridges, and cities like Bath. Bath, known to the Romans as Aquae Sulis, is the only English city fed by hot springs, so it seems likely that the city in question is Bath. Another theory is that the poem refers to Hadrian's Wall and the baths mentioned were heated artificially. The Saxons, who replaced the Romans as rulers of most of Britain, used stone only for churches and their churches were small. So it seems safe to say that the ruins in question were created by Roman builders.
Interpretation
My personal interpretation of the poem is that the poet is simultaneously impressed by the magnificence of the works he is viewing, and discouraged that even the works of the mighty men of the past have fallen to ruin.
Analysis of Characters and References
There are no characters, per se, only an anonymous speaker describing the ruins and the men he imagines to have built things that have survived so long despite battles and the elements.
Related Poems
Other Anglo-Saxon/Old English poems: The Ruin, Wulf and Eadwacer, The Wife's Lament, Deor's Lament, Caedmon's Hymn, Bede's Death Song, The Seafarer, Anglo-Saxon Riddles and Kennings
Keywords/Tags: Anglo-Saxon, Old English, England, translation, elegy, lament, lamentation, Bath, Roman, giant, giants, medieval, builders, ruin, ruins, wall, walls, fate, mrbtr
"The Ruin" is one of the great poems of English antiquity. This modern English translation of one of the very best Old English/Anglo-Saxon poems is followed by footnotes, a summary and analysis, a discussion of the theme, and the translator's comments.
THE RUIN
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
well-hewn was this wall-stone, till Wyrdes wrecked it
and the Colossus sagged inward ...
broad battlements broken;
the Builders' work battered;
the high ramparts toppled;
tall towers collapsed;
the great roof-beams shattered;
gates groaning, agape ...
mortar mottled and marred by scarring ****-frosts ...
the Giants’ dauntless strongholds decaying with age ...
shattered, the shieldwalls,
the turrets in tatters ...
where now are those mighty Masons, those Wielders and Wrights,
those Samson-like Stonesmiths?
the grasp of the earth, the firm grip of the ground
holds fast those fearless Fathers
men might have forgotten
except that this slow-rotting siege-wall still stands
after countless generations!
for always this edifice, grey-lichened, blood-stained,
stands facing fierce storms with their wild-whipping winds
because those master Builders bound its wall-base together
so cunningly with iron!
it outlasted mighty kings and their claims!
how high rose those regal rooftops!
how kingly their castle-keeps!
how homely their homesteads!
how boisterous their bath-houses and their merry mead-halls!
how heavenward flew their high-flung pinnacles!
how tremendous the tumult of those famous War-Wagers ...
till mighty Fate overturned it all, and with it, them.
then the wide walls fell;
then the bulwarks were broken;
then the dark days of disease descended ...
as death swept the battlements of brave Brawlers;
as their palaces became waste places;
as ruin rained down on their grand Acropolis;
as their great cities and castles collapsed
while those who might have rebuilt them lay gelded in the ground:
those marvelous Men, those mighty master Builders!
therefore these once-decorous courts court decay;
therefore these once-lofty gates gape open;
therefore these roofs' curved arches lie stripped of their shingles;
therefore these streets have sunk into ruin and corroded rubble ...
when in times past light-hearted Titans flushed with wine
strode strutting in gleaming armor, adorned with splendid ladies’ favors,
through this brilliant city of the audacious famous Builders
to compete for bright treasure: gold, silver, amber, gemstones.
here the cobblestoned courts clattered;
here the streams gushed forth their abundant waters;
here the baths steamed, hot at their fiery hearts;
here this wondrous wall embraced it all, with its broad *****.
... that was spacious ...
Footnotes and Translator's Comments
by Michael R. Burch
Summary
"The Ruin" is an ancient Anglo-Saxon poem. It appears in the Exeter Book, which has been dated to around 960-990 AD. However, the poem may be older than the manuscript, since many ancient poems were passed down ****** for generations before being written down. The poem is an elegy or lament for the works of "mighty men" of the past that have fallen into disrepair and ruins. Ironically, the poem itself was found in a state of ruin. There are holes in the vellum upon which it was written. It appears that a brand or poker was laid to rest on the venerable book. It is believed the Exeter Book was also used as a cutting board and beer mat. Indeed, we are lucky to have as much of the poem as we do.
Author
The author is an unknown Anglo-Saxon scop (poet).
Genre
"The Ruin" may be classified as an elegy, eulogy, dirge and/or lament, depending on how one interprets it.
Theme
The poem's theme is one common to Anglo-Saxon poetry and literature: that man and his works cannot escape the hands of wyrde (fate), time and death. Thus men can only face the inevitable with courage, resolve, fortitude and resignation. Having visited Bath myself, I can easily understand how the scop who wrote the poem felt, and why, if I am interpreting the poem correctly.
Plot
The plot of "The Ruin" seems rather simple and straightforward: Things fall apart. The author of the poem blames Fate for the destruction he sees. The builders are described as "giants."
Techniques
"The Ruin" is an alliterative poem; it uses alliteration rather than meter and rhyme to "create a flow" of words. This was typical of Anglo-Saxon poetry.
History
When the Romans pulled their legions out of Britain around 400 BC, primarily because they faced increasing threats at home, they left behind a number of immense stone works, including Hadrian's Wall, various roads and bridges, and cities like Bath. Bath, known to the Romans as Aquae Sulis, is the only English city fed by hot springs, so it seems likely that the city in question is Bath. Another theory is that the poem refers to Hadrian's Wall and the baths mentioned were heated artificially. The Saxons, who replaced the Romans as rulers of most of Britain, used stone only for churches and their churches were small. So it seems safe to say that the ruins in question were created by Roman builders.
Interpretation
My personal interpretation of the poem is that the poet is simultaneously impressed by the magnificence of the works he is viewing, and discouraged that even the works of the mighty men of the past have fallen to ruin.
Analysis of Characters and References
There are no characters, per se, only an anonymous speaker describing the ruins and the men he imagines to have built things that have survived so long despite battles and the elements.
Related Poems
Other Anglo-Saxon/Old English poems: The Ruin, Wulf and Eadwacer, The Wife's Lament, Deor's Lament, Caedmon's Hymn, Bede's Death Song, The Seafarer, Anglo-Saxon Riddles and Kennings
Keywords/Tags: Anglo-Saxon, Old English, England, translation, elegy, lament, lamentation, Bath, Roman, giant, giants, medieval, builders, ruin, ruins, wall, walls, fate, mrbtr
epictails May 2015
How We Ruin Children
epictails
May 2015
I think we ruin children by telling them
Crying is bad
When crying is being vulnerable
An expression of pain so natural
So they grow up to be ashamed of emotions
I think we ruin children by telling them
They have to become someone
When being themselves is already being someone
So they grow up wanting to be someone they are not
I think we ruin children by telling them
Disobeying the rules is inexcusable
When sometimes breaking the rules,
Is freeing one’s self from the expectations of others
So they grow up to feel insecure in the face of uncertainty
I think we ruin children by telling them
Monsters are supernatural creatures
When monsters can also take form in humans
Who exploit, manipulate and trample on others
So they grow up unable to confront even their own monsters
For how could something so unimaginable take form in themselves?
I think we ruin children by telling them
Punishment is discipline
Spanking, verbal fear to shut them up good and easy
When there is a thing called gentle discipline
One that requires less pain and more understanding
So they grow up to become aggressors
Believing they are heroes who save others from disorder
I think we ruin children by telling them
School is the best way to getting around life
Drowning in grades, homeworks and activities just to get by
When experience teaches far more important lessons
School can only teach in words
So they grow up to believing the good life is a tried
And tested pattern and there are no other ways to live
I think we ruin children by telling them
To avoid fears instead of confronting them
When the dark, cockroaches, dogs, can be overcome
So they treat fear as an enemy
Instead of being a friend, a lesson
One that teaches them to be braver, to be stronger
I think we ruin children by telling them
What you wear is what you are
Frills and laces for girls, ties and pants for boys
When anyone can wear just what the **** they want
Clothing is a choice in as much as who they want to be
So they grow up confined by what the crowd is wearing
Fearing any diversion would make them odd
I think we ruin children
By making them believe that success
Comes in fancy clothes, cars, a truckload of money
When happiness is the real mark of a well lived life
I think we ruin children
By telling them being alone is a shameful thing
When the key to understanding one’s self
Is through the painful yet productive solitude
That people so likely shame
So they grow up believing their happiness
Is in other people’s hands
I think we ruin children
By telling them outer strength is the real strength
When there are children who
Cannot lift their own chairs
But have the strongest, bravest hearts
Fighting their way into sad days
Like the heroes that they are
I think we ruin children mostly and importantly
By believing
That they are wrong
That they are too young to understand
When all the while
We could have been wrong
Age makes us not wiser
Just older
And so children lose their capacity to see things brightly
And the biggest chunk of the world’s dreamers are then silenced
By adults who never really believed in the magic of the world
As much as the kids do
So how do we ruin children, really?
By telling them being themselves
Is the least they could ever want
By telling children
That being who they are will never be right
Crying is bad
When crying is being vulnerable
An expression of pain so natural
So they grow up to be ashamed of emotions
I think we ruin children by telling them
They have to become someone
When being themselves is already being someone
So they grow up wanting to be someone they are not
I think we ruin children by telling them
Disobeying the rules is inexcusable
When sometimes breaking the rules,
Is freeing one’s self from the expectations of others
So they grow up to feel insecure in the face of uncertainty
I think we ruin children by telling them
Monsters are supernatural creatures
When monsters can also take form in humans
Who exploit, manipulate and trample on others
So they grow up unable to confront even their own monsters
For how could something so unimaginable take form in themselves?
I think we ruin children by telling them
Punishment is discipline
Spanking, verbal fear to shut them up good and easy
When there is a thing called gentle discipline
One that requires less pain and more understanding
So they grow up to become aggressors
Believing they are heroes who save others from disorder
I think we ruin children by telling them
School is the best way to getting around life
Drowning in grades, homeworks and activities just to get by
When experience teaches far more important lessons
School can only teach in words
So they grow up to believing the good life is a tried
And tested pattern and there are no other ways to live
I think we ruin children by telling them
To avoid fears instead of confronting them
When the dark, cockroaches, dogs, can be overcome
So they treat fear as an enemy
Instead of being a friend, a lesson
One that teaches them to be braver, to be stronger
I think we ruin children by telling them
What you wear is what you are
Frills and laces for girls, ties and pants for boys
When anyone can wear just what the **** they want
Clothing is a choice in as much as who they want to be
So they grow up confined by what the crowd is wearing
Fearing any diversion would make them odd
I think we ruin children
By making them believe that success
Comes in fancy clothes, cars, a truckload of money
When happiness is the real mark of a well lived life
I think we ruin children
By telling them being alone is a shameful thing
When the key to understanding one’s self
Is through the painful yet productive solitude
That people so likely shame
So they grow up believing their happiness
Is in other people’s hands
I think we ruin children
By telling them outer strength is the real strength
When there are children who
Cannot lift their own chairs
But have the strongest, bravest hearts
Fighting their way into sad days
Like the heroes that they are
I think we ruin children mostly and importantly
By believing
That they are wrong
That they are too young to understand
When all the while
We could have been wrong
Age makes us not wiser
Just older
And so children lose their capacity to see things brightly
And the biggest chunk of the world’s dreamers are then silenced
By adults who never really believed in the magic of the world
As much as the kids do
So how do we ruin children, really?
By telling them being themselves
Is the least they could ever want
By telling children
That being who they are will never be right
This is extremely long and I don't even expect anyone to read this HAHAHA. Just that this is not so much a poem as it is a rant. I could care less about the mechanics and rules of poetry but this is really important for me because this is my (and a big number of kids') childhood. First draft and will continue tweaking this until it can be read better lol xD I have no right to question any parent's way of raising their children but this is just how I feel.
Raziel May 2019
If You Are to Ruin Me
Raziel
May 2019
If you are to ruin me,
Do me a favor and do it poetically,
So that I may live on in the stars,
And dance inside the moon,
If you are to ruin me,
Give me a chance to live,
Let me paint my colors across the sky,
Let me join my friends among the constellations,
If you are to ruin me,
I want to keep at least one piece,
So that it may grow and bloom,
Into something worth remembering,
If you are to ruin me,
Just give me the chance to surrender,
Surrender to adventures and experiences without you,
Surrender to sunrises and sunsets without you,
If you are to ruin me,
Do not take away my ability to create,
Do not damage me beyond repair,
Do not take away the colors inside of me,
If you are to ruin me,
Just let me fall,
So that maybe my landing,
Will be worth writing,
Because if you are to ruin me,
I want them all to know how it happened,
I want them to know the tragedy in how we met,
I want them to know the mystery in the connection,
Because if you are to ruin me,
I want them to know that there were flames,
That there were explosions and sparks,
That we burned loud and powerful,
Because if you are to ruin me,
I want them to know that I died at the touch of your healing hands,
That I died a writers death among the stories of your eyes,
That I died a painters demise between those wild cherry lips,
Because if you ruin me,
I want them to know that you are still so perfect,
That you have a galaxy trapped in your heart,
And that you have storms and hurricanes in your soul,
If you are the one to ruin me,
I want you to know that it’s okay,
You are a beautiful universe of endless possibilities,
You are an untamable storm of breathtaking spires of emotion,
If you are the one to ruin me,
Know that I’m okay with it,
Because at least I caught a glimpse,
Of something worth writing about.
Do me a favor and do it poetically,
So that I may live on in the stars,
And dance inside the moon,
If you are to ruin me,
Give me a chance to live,
Let me paint my colors across the sky,
Let me join my friends among the constellations,
If you are to ruin me,
I want to keep at least one piece,
So that it may grow and bloom,
Into something worth remembering,
If you are to ruin me,
Just give me the chance to surrender,
Surrender to adventures and experiences without you,
Surrender to sunrises and sunsets without you,
If you are to ruin me,
Do not take away my ability to create,
Do not damage me beyond repair,
Do not take away the colors inside of me,
If you are to ruin me,
Just let me fall,
So that maybe my landing,
Will be worth writing,
Because if you are to ruin me,
I want them all to know how it happened,
I want them to know the tragedy in how we met,
I want them to know the mystery in the connection,
Because if you are to ruin me,
I want them to know that there were flames,
That there were explosions and sparks,
That we burned loud and powerful,
Because if you are to ruin me,
I want them to know that I died at the touch of your healing hands,
That I died a writers death among the stories of your eyes,
That I died a painters demise between those wild cherry lips,
Because if you ruin me,
I want them to know that you are still so perfect,
That you have a galaxy trapped in your heart,
And that you have storms and hurricanes in your soul,
If you are the one to ruin me,
I want you to know that it’s okay,
You are a beautiful universe of endless possibilities,
You are an untamable storm of breathtaking spires of emotion,
If you are the one to ruin me,
Know that I’m okay with it,
Because at least I caught a glimpse,
Of something worth writing about.