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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: On The Life And Death Of Mandots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Joachim
    ASL Info:    75 Male RSA
    Elite Ratio:    5.39 - 361/264/178
    Words: 147
    Class/Type: Poetry/Serious
    Total Views: 401
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 976



    Description:
       What we also write about. jm


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsOn The Life And Death Of Mandots
    -------------------------------------------


    On The Life And Death Of Man

    The world's a theatre. The earth, a stage
    Placed in the midst: where both prince and page,
    Both rich and poor, fool, wise man, base and high,
    All act their parts in life's short tragedy.
    Our life's a tragedy. Those secret rooms,
    Wherein we 'tire us, are our mothers' wombs.
    The music ushering in the play is mirth
    To see a man-child brought upon the earth.
    That fainting gasp of breath which first we vent,
    Is a dumb show; presents the argument.
    Our new-born cries, that new-born griefs bewray,
    Are the sad prologue of the ensuing play.
    False hopes, true fears, vain joys, and fierce distracts,
    Are like the music that divides the Acts.
    Time holds the glass, and when the hour's outrun,
    Death strikes the epilogue, and the play is done.

    Francis Quarles (1592-1644 / England)




    Submitted on 2011-07-28 14:43:29     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      Please don't mind if mine offsets by being a comedy instead. This does serve to remind me how very blessed I've been.

    Lloyd
    | Posted on 2011-08-08 00:00:00 | by Blue Monk | [ Reply to This ]
      Thanks for sharing this, Joachim.

    It is a wonderful poem, which I have never read. Outside of the subject of the poem, it reminded me why I think most modern poets stay clear of rhyme. The old Masters perfected this art so well, with such elegance and grace that it is hard to top.

    I truly enjoy how the author has set up this poem as though writing a persuasive essay; he not only tells us what he thinks, he provides a descriptive argument for why it is so.

    Our new-born cries, that new-born griefs bewray,
    Are the sad prologue of the ensuing play.
    False hopes, true fears, vain joys, and fierce distracts,
    Are like the music that divides the Acts.


    This is my favourite part. Somewhere, someone is holding up signs reading "laugh" and "applause" between moving scenes.

    That this was written so long ago shows to me that through the ages, people are much the same.

    | Posted on 2011-08-01 00:00:00 | by Soul-Hugger | [ Reply to This ]


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