Worth a Thousand Words…

[Pendragon]

Worth a Thousand Words…

They stand out stark.
They show the ugly truth.
Mortal suffering at its very deepest chasm:
A starving child crawling desperately towards help,
While vultures await the child’s impending death;
A well-dressed, well-feed man stealing a naked refugee’s food,
Knowing he’s too weak to resist;
A bloody man, beaten by some mob,
Set on fire beside the road while still alive—
Gotta have a close-up shot on that.
In their quest for the Pulitzer Prize,
If they have time to stop and focus a camera for the best shot,
Why don’t they have the time to step in and help victims themselves;
Instead of back into the Landover and move on?
Couldn’t they carry that child for that last kilometer?
Couldn’t they stop that thief who robs the helpless and dying?
Couldn’t they give aid to he who screams in agony
As flames devour his flesh like dragon tongues?
A picture indeed is worth a thousand words—
But what the photographer fails to notice in careful arrangement of the shot—
It tells two stories very clearly:
The cold drama of the frozen moment—
The cold ice where there used to be a human heart…
Oh for a thousand words.
Just hear the ones written as they whisper hidden truth…

Pendragon
© 11/6/07

This poem was written in response to a slide show sent to me by the ever-tenderhearted Miss T. The Pictures were heart-breaking, but they touched off another nerve in me. There are photographers who will do anything to get the shot, a case in point being the ones who shot pictures of Princess Diana dying in the car wreck, when first aid should have been first on their minds. If my poem offends, then perhaps you need to be offended, for if you can watch human misery from that close and not be touched and outraged, you have ceased to be human.

[symphony]

This is really moving, Pen. Its so surprising what man can do for fame, and shocking what he cant do for fellow men. *sigh*


The cold drama of the frozen moment—
The cold ice where there used to be a human heart…
Oh for a thousand words.
Just hear the ones written as they whisper hidden truth…

[TheFifthElement]

A heartfelt and powerful poem Pen, beautifully written.

I'm torn on the issue of photographers, I think there's two sides to the story. The paparazzi, who follow celebrities around, like the one's who photographed Princess Di (will they ever let that lie?) are vultures. Of other photographers it's hard to say, there is so much hardship and danger and terror and horror in the world, that perhaps the best they can do is capture the outrage of what they see in a photograph and bring it back to the rest of the world, so that we can see it, and share it, and perhaps take action to put it right.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A heartfelt and powerful poem Pen, beautifully written.

I'm torn on the issue of photographers, I think there's two sides to the story. The paparazzi, who follow celebrities around, like the one's who photographed Princess Di (will they ever let that lie?) are vultures. Of other photographers it's hard to say, there is so much hardship and danger and terror and horror in the world, that perhaps the best they can do is capture the outrage of what they see in a photograph and bring it back to the rest of the world, so that we can see it, and share it, and perhaps take action to put it right.

I had a very poignant experience of the voyeurism we're all subject to. One of my kids had evidently just seen footage of some disaster on tv. "Dad," he asked, "When they take pictures of people who have been hurt, they don't just leave them like that, do they?"

I don't remember how I answered him then - or indeed how I would today.

[Rockin462]

I have always found myself to be not able to "rubberneck".
I do not watch shows with real disasters etc.
I have a hard time with the mass majority of society that gets enjoyment, of some kind, out of other people's misfortunes.

Not being sure of how the photograhpers view the images they are shooting.
I would assume most are very saddened but have become hardened to it.
That being said, once the picture is taken, they may help where they can.
But to be allowed into some of these areas, I think they are under strict rules that do not allow them to interfere, but only record the moments and move on.

Great poem !

[Xillus_Xavier]

This is a very difficult topic here.
Yes it would seem that instead of just standing there taking pictures of these horrible moments, they could actually DO something to help.

On the other hand, a photographers job is to capture these moments to show the world the true meaning of tragedy.

I myself couldn't stand and take photos of people in agony...especially someone who needs immediate help (on fire). It takes a certain type of personality to handle such things.

[dibyendra]

Very heartfelt poem Pen. I agree with TheFifthElement regarding her view about this poem.

I found the many lines very much strong here :


So, painful to listen these two lines....


A starving child crawling desperately towards help,
While vultures await the child’s impending death;



Couldn’t they give aid to he who screams in agony
As flames devour his flesh like dragon tongues?

and very strong concluding Pen. :thumbs_up

It tells two stories very clearly:
The cold drama of the frozen moment—
The cold ice where there used to be a human heart…
Oh for a thousand words.
Just hear the ones written as they whisper hidden truth…


Best.
Dibyendra

[Pendragon]

I had a very poignant experience of the voyeurism we're all subject to. One of my kids had evidently just seen footage of some disaster on tv. "Dad," he asked, "When they take pictures of people who have been hurt, they don't just leave them like that, do they?"

I don't remember how I answered him then - or indeed how I would today.I recall one myself, and how helpless it made me feel. There had been some natural disaster, hurricane, I believe. A young woman had just her head out of water. They took pictures for what seemed days. She was slowly dying of exposure, hunger, and thirst. Divers finally went down but the light was already gone from her eyes. Her leg was locked in the deathgrip of a corpse. They could have saved her had they spent less time with pictures and more time diving... http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l108/AbsalomKane/breen3.gif

[scarlet pain]

would it be landrover or landover?
its awesome,never thought of this side of the reporters,looks like they take risks for prizes not for a greater cause!
you are awesome uncle pen.:thumbs_up

[ampoule]

Photo Op

See the white girl standing there,
yes, the one with the calico cat,
all that thick dark brown hair,
a starched blue dress,
patent leather shoes,
white socks?
Such a pretty little thing, so happy.
Uncle, she begs, take my picture please,
don't forget me, I'm here too,
I know I am, even though mommy said,
Get lost, and father-squared accidentally
pushed me into the door,
but I promise,
I won't lift my dress,
I'll cover my arm with CaliCat,
and I'll smile a big, happy girl smile,
a blue ribbon prize for your mantle.


amp, November Ninth, TwoThousandSeven

Pen, I loved your poem and it made me think of all of us, snapping pictures of loved ones or having our pictures taken or looking at old pictures and maybe knowing about bad things happening to good people but feeling helpless and doing nothing.

I know what you were talking about in your poem but for everyone of 'those' photographers, there is one of these:

http://www.popphoto.com/americanphotofeatures/4044/heroes-of-photography.html
Scroll to the gray box that lists the photographers and read some of their stories.

Your poem has really made me stop and think which makes it all the more wonderful. (Not that I don't occasionally think on my own. ;) )
And, of course, your poem makes me sing, O For A Thousand Tongues to Sing.....

[Pendragon]

Photo Op

See the white girl standing there,
yes, the one with the calico cat,
all that thick dark brown hair,
a starched blue dress,
patent leather shoes,
white socks?
Such a pretty little thing, so happy.
Uncle, she begs, take my picture please,
don't forget me, I'm here too,
I know I am, even though mommy said,
Get lost, and father-squared accidentally
pushed me into the door,
but I promise,
I won't lift my dress,
I'll cover my arm with CaliCat,
and I'll smile a big, happy girl smile,
a blue ribbon prize for your mantle.


amp, November Ninth, TwoThousandSeven

Pen, I loved your poem and it made me think of all of us, snapping pictures of loved ones or having our pictures taken or looking at old pictures and maybe knowing about bad things happening to good people but feeling helpless and doing nothing.

I know what you were talking about in your poem but for everyone of 'those' photographers, there is one of these:

http://www.popphoto.com/americanphotofeatures/4044/heroes-of-photography.html
Scroll to the gray box that lists the photographers and read some of their stories.

Your poem has really made me stop and think which makes it all the more wonderful. (Not that I don't occasionally think on my own. ;) )
And, of course, your poem makes me sing, O For A Thousand Tongues to Sing.....Thanks, Amp. There is good in this old world, and people who use their cameras to help. I note in their stories that they often cover these things on basically their own. They wage a war against deplorable conditions or people without backing down and without real blessings from places they could sell pictures. They are angels unaware.

I have thought also of one's who have caught crimes on video and that video was the clinchpin to seal the criminal's date with justice. There are good ones, perhaps I will find the inspiration to give them their laurels.

Nice haunting poem, by the way. Another area we often deny. Child abuse.
Yes, when you have children, some form of dicipline is necessary. No, I never died because my mother spanked me. But it's a razor edge, easily crossed. My experiences as a child taught me that. My children maybe had it too easy, too late to second guess myself now.