Dejection

[mazHur]

Dejection
by Mazhar Butt


Life's so dull, life's so quiet
Like a lamp burning without light!
Not a single tree to shade from sun
Not a wall to wail at life's tragic fun
A vast expanse of ocean all around
But not a sip of water for the thirsty found
Days like a barren womb of sterile time
Nights as destitute as a beggar's clime.
Just me and my loneliness are my only commune
My ears attuned to the silence of a deafening tune.

[mazHur]

Wow, all here seem to be as happy as a March Hare ! Nobody seems to have read and commented on this !

[ampoule]

Wow, all here seem to be as happy as a March Hare ! Nobody seems to have read and commented on this !

It is around 3:30 in the early morning here and I just now read this mazHur. I think it is very good. One thing for sure, I certainly understand your message.

[mazHur]

MERCI BEAUCOUP, Amp.
You are so nice !

[Caravaggio]

Not a single tree to shade from sun
Not a wall to wail at life's tragic fun
A vast expanse of ocean all around
But not a sip of water for the thirsty found
Days like a barren womb of sterile time
Nights as destitute as a beggar's clime.
Just me and my loneliness are my only commune


I really enjoyed these lines. They have a certain rhythm that I like, and I've always enjoyed rhyme. The first two lines feel to me compared with the rest of the poem like fingernails scraping along a chalk board, and the last line I think would work better without attuned in it. Just my opinion, and if you feel its perfect the way it is, please keep it so.

[blazeofglory]

Dejection
by Mazhar Butt


Life's so dull, life's so quiet
Like a lamp burning without light!
Not a single tree to shade from sun
Not a wall to wail at life's tragic fun
A vast expanse of ocean all around
But not a sip of water for the thirsty found
Days like a barren womb of sterile time
Nights as destitute as a beggar's clime.
Just me and my loneliness are my only commune
My ears attuned to the silence of a deafening tune.



Beautifully rhymed. You have really craftmanship in composing poems. I have read severlal of your posts and indeed everywhere you have presneted your ideas beautifully.
I like the style of yours in this poem but I am judgemental of the idea of the poem that life is that thing of dejection. I do not beleive and it is untrue too that life is just dejection. It is part of both dejecttuion and jubilation.

[mazHur]

thank you, Glory,Caravaggio, for your comments.

Dejection has been every persons lot, especially the poets, at one time or the other ,
Some of the masterpieces of English poetry expressively savor feelings of dejection

[mazHur]

Friends, I have revised the poem and here it is now. I hope you will like the changes.;) :)


On Dejection
by MazHur


Could life be so dull, so dead,so quiet
Like a sinking lamp burning without light!
No,not a single tree to shade from scorching sun,
Not a solacing wall to wail at life's tragic fun;
Just a vast expanse of turbulent ocean with salt abound,
That won't give a sip of sweet water to the thirsty around;
Sunlit days seeming dark like a womb of barren sterile time
Starry nights gone destitute like the coffers of a beggar's clime;
Just me and my loneliness now my life's only commune,
The ears of my heart are fraught with the silence of a deafening tune.

[symphony]

The second draft is word-rich, yes. But i miss "silence of a deafening tune" in the last line. I've always appreciated the silences that i found in voices, not quietnesses or dullnesses, even some of my almost-poems imply so. :) So may be its just my Silence-in-Voices-loving self that's frowning at the introduction of "morbid" in the place of "deafening".

[motherhubbard]

Mazhur- I agree with Symphony on this. Silence of a deafening tune was very good and I liked it better too. I'm not sure of what I think about the use of thou in the first like of the second draft. I think I would like to see it somewhere between one and two.

[Pendragon]

The first one rocks maZ. No need to change. Although the second sounds a bit light Thor is gearing up to lash the Earth with a major storm at first! I could see that image, not the Marvel comic version, the old legend, with his goat pulled chariot.

http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l108/AbsalomKane/Shock.gif

[AuntShecky]

MazHur, do you think that depression, "dejection" is an occupational hazard for the poet OR a job prerequisite?

[mazHur]

MazHur, do you think that depression, "dejection" is an occupational hazard for the poet OR a job prerequisite?

first of all I would like to thank all the friends here who cared to read my poem and gave their valuable comments. Presently, since Aunt has asked a BIG and DIFFICULT question which in itself could form a separate thread and about which a hundred more books could be written, I would, with your due permission, like to start with that.

Just a few moments ago, I happened to see a certain handbill in my magazine rack and which I just picked up to see how it came there and what it stated. and lo! it was a sort of promotional handbill of a pharma comapany which perhaps deals in psychotic drugs. It invited readers to visit their web site www.depnet.pk for more details about depression and anxiety and their treatment. I havn't visited the site yet but going there would be like going to a ''dedicated source''. So, I will because no person in the world can boast of being free from some sort of anxiety or depression. These are unquestionably diseases and unless treated tend to degenerate the personality of a person, more often negatively but sometimes, positively too. Having a glance at the lives of great men will show you that most of them suffered from some sort of mental or psychotic disturbance. Without a pinch of personal ''abnormality'' I don't think any one can claim to do extra-ordinary things in life. However, if depression is due to some physical reason then I would not include it in the depression category as that's yet another problem and not an ''intellectual type'' of mental disorder.

Depression and dejection are almost interchangeably the same or similar, atleast. Poets in particular have been writing a lot about 'dejection' and the master pieces created by most of them are necessarily an outcome of their mental 'un-usualities'' (to coin a new word) or 'abnormalities', whatever.
My answer to Aunt's question is that a person depressed or dejected cannot live a normal life,,,the more serious the problem the more debilitated he'd feel in the society. He will not only pose occupational hazard to others but also to his own life and occupation. As you may know, depression or dejection, yet another name for hopelessness,suppressed anger, boredom, worthlessness, loss of self esteem, etc etc, inherently contains suicidal tendencies and is thus more destructive than being beneficial in extreme forms.And, certainly it is not a pre=requisite for a job ! Only poets and writers need it ,,,,or something that may keep them moving--- such as love, separation,etc--- and provide them the necessary stimuli for carrying on their work with real and genuine feelings. It's like feeling the exuberance of the surfing waves, delight of seeing daffodils, seeing your unknown beloved's face for the first time, falling in love at first sight, seeing a ghost, getting hurt or pleased, etc,,,and unless a poet or writer passes through such experiences and observes them with his 'extra -senses', there is hardly any chance of his turning up good work. Same holds true for most scientists and men of letters and action.

[mazHur]

during my search for the depnet.pk, I came across the international site of depnet where information on depression etc is available in a number of languages to choose from.........here's the link:: http://www.depnet.com/

[mazHur]

following various suggestions from friends I have once again tried to improve on the poem and I hope these cover all
Thanks again to you all


On Dejection
by MazHur


Could life be so dull, so dead,so quiet
Like a sinking lamp burning without light!
No,not a single tree to shade from scorching sun,
Not a solacing wall to wail at life's tragic fun;
Just a vast expanse of turbulent ocean with salt abound,
That won't give a sip of sweet water to the thirsty around;
Sunlit days seeming dark like a womb of barren sterile time
Starry nights gone destitute like the coffers of a beggar's clime;
Just me and my loneliness now my life's only commune,
The ears of my heart are fraught with the silence of a deafening tune