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4/18/2015 1:36:04 AM
The Battle of Borodino - by Bob Atkinson

kevin sheltra
Posts: 51
Bob, never would I ever take out words that need to fit someplace. Not using a certain word simply pigeonholes you, and makes things awful to read. You use the word the, so why can't I? Doesn't make sense does it. And I wasn't trying to compare to "Lying Eyes" since that is about a woman who is a cheater, and has nothing to do with War. You asked me to write about war, which I did. I am just apparently not understanding your hatred of verbs. Must just be me, but since your pieces contain the same words maybe it's just my writing that shouldn't contain them? I'd have no problem putting up the poem I wrote in a few minutes to any war poem you've written. Let the masses make the vote. You already know I dislike pretty much everything you write, and you dislike what I write so therefore it's simply a stalemate. I did what you asked even though it was something I wasn't used to doing. I think writing about war for me is very idiotic since A. I've never been in any sort of war. B. I believe the whole point of wars is insanely stupid. So what need would I have to write about them for? Also, I've still yet to figure out why you re-write others works. These people who you are re-writing, are famous and usually for good reason. Why go back and try to fix things that don't need fixing? Part of the reason people identify with pieces is because it strikes them one way or another. I can't recall every hearing someone say "I'm so glad so-and-so rewrote "The Scarlet Letter". Please do correct me if I'm wrong, the only time text should ever be changed {and I'm still quite on the fence about this} is when something is being translated from a different language and you simply cannot understand the meaning if kept true to form. But, by all means, keep going through and re-writing classic literature.
4/18/2015 1:24:15 AM
10 Poems a day ?

kevin sheltra
Posts: 51
Definitely some good ideas-Kevin
4/18/2015 1:15:19 AM
The Battle of Borodino - by Bob Atkinson

Bob Atkinson
Posts: 92

Kevin, ReWrote Tennyson's "Charge of the Light Brigade," fixing many of its shortcomings:

The Meaning of War

- by Bob Atkinson

sickness raged, sickness stayed

within armies of the land

tearing life from hearts of men

dressed as gentlemen, fancy caps

tokens of their own design

for which they gladly died

in strange lands for different reasons

religion, stupidity and pride

Enniskillen by Bob Atkinson

fare thee well those of Enniskillen

you bravely go to death

stories folded into time

with saber or with long lance

Fighting Pride by Bob Atkinson

dragoons and horsemen, those of cannon


fighting for Victoria's figurehead

red and green and gray suit coats

flags waved upon pole staffs

Lord Raglan

Lord Raglan wanted victory

against Russia's southern march

opposed by those who held great pride

years ago, in Napoleon's rout

Poem: Battle of Borodino by Bob Atkinson

yet freedom didn't reign as thought

in his country of past conquest

where death, destruction, devastation

drooled from mouths of warrior men


Meshikov commanded opposition

some saw this as battle for

religion, that sweet jewel of man

which rots your teeth down to the core

displayed pride herein contained

pushing an empire on the run

beaten down by circumstance

and by the force of gun

Charge of the Light Brigade

when nations disagree
they struggle as if two men
black eyes become the dying
foes are made of friends

battles grind the souls of men
into that jellied mud thickly spread
pushing lives into the brink
taking the future from our children

this was one of many fights
in the Crimean war of shame
some won, some lost some came away
in agony and with pain

six hundred fought in this group

brave, though under fire

from all sides of a narrow valley

pushed to their death by pride

light cavalry, not a heavy force

no punch brought for to stay

just charge and find where the enemy

is strong and where they'll break

pride of country, pride of army

pride of the marching man

pride of soldiers astride their mounts

pride of wicked saints of sin

pride of those who gave bad orders

pride of those confused by orders unclear

pride of those who guessed where

to attack an enemy from the rear

fighting for those values all

so close held to their vest

mother, country, attitude

or orders from true gents

with unwillingness to divest

in barbaric travesty

or in destiny of purpose

whatever stood as consequence

minds made only to conquer

whatever lay in front

with guns of fire held in the hand

or saber thrusts at hearts

here in a land so far from home

must prove what could be done

with blazing cannon shooting down

those advancing or on the run

so, six hundred charged the valley

wrong valley here they went

under fire of cannon's thunder

fire from rifles aimed at chests

a brave thing to do

charge on orders given in the dark

a brave thing to do

give up your soul to ambitious tarts
4/18/2015 1:03:30 AM
The Battle of Borodino - by Bob Atkinson

Bob Atkinson
Posts: 92
Kevin, please remove the "the's." Remove the verb to be in all its forms (is are was were)
Remember, "the" sounds like "duh" and reads like "huh?" You ain't come close yet dude to Henley and Frey's "Lyin' Eyes" in form or function. Try it again.
4/18/2015 12:36:40 AM
10 Poems a day ?

Ian Guyler
Posts: 1
Can this rule be modified to a lesser submission rate ...say 3 poems per person per day Maximum
with a lot of newbies arriving daily, its difficult to see their writes ,because some are banging 10 on every day, and some great writes are falling over the precipice....or increase the page size from 200 to 1000 ?
4/17/2015 8:49:35 PM
The difficulties of translation. Your opinion abou

Konstantin Achapovskiy
Posts: 4
переводчик вам в помощь
edited by kostya70 on 4/17/2015
4/17/2015 8:06:02 PM
The Battle of Borodino - by Bob Atkinson

kevin sheltra
Posts: 51
and just cause I'm quite positive it will come up, I said War, not self defense. If someone attacks someone then I am all for equal action self defense. War and defending yourself are two completely different things. So have at em Bobby-O. I'm dying to hear what you've got to say. And let me just say, these are the first actual war pieces i've ever written.
4/17/2015 8:03:59 PM
The Battle of Borodino - by Bob Atkinson

kevin sheltra
Posts: 51
and just cause I like to **** people off I wrote this right after.

War is an ignorant fight
between ignorant men
the only thing that truly dies
is our innocence in the end

war all the time
in each and every one of us
some fight for religion,
some for religion, some for love

whatever the cause
it's a lost one I assure you
war is an ignorant fight
there is no exception to the rule
4/17/2015 8:02:47 PM
The Battle of Borodino - by Bob Atkinson

kevin sheltra
Posts: 51
Ok so I didn't do any research, because this actually happened just as I wrote. Sue me for that. You can look it up if you'd like. I refused to give my uncle a name simply for the fact that I wanted this to stand for more than one person not just a single piece about my uncle. I'm quite sure you'll hate it, I just wrote it in like 10 minutes. I haven't even edited it. Oh, wait I lied I did look up the place to make sure I spelled it correctly. That was it. Doesn't have a name cause frankly I didn't care enough to give it one.

we sat, my brother and I
leaning against the old wood pannels of the room
the smoke engulfed us like breath
as the threat of violence loomed

his voice was quiet still
passion and regret burned in his eyes
when he finally opened his mouth
words failed him for the first time

he'd been our uncle for ages
a part of our lives since we were kids
my mother used to say he was funny once
but that the war had changed him

finally he spoke in slow motion
we waited on tenterhooks for every word
our breath bound by more than smoke
as he let his story unfurl

leaning back in his chair
the words crawled from his lips
a voice beat to a pulp
by his whiskey and cigarettes

he talked of the sceneary
the forrests thicker than amber
the "nats" as he called them
clung to your skin like a cancer

He was only 19 then
fresh off the farm he'd always worked on
fired his first gun at basic training
his drill sargeant told him that they were now one

his words formed snakes
that coiled around my brother and i
and when his words got soft and slow
he simply took a drag and closed his eyes

he described in details
much more than any kids should know
details about basic training
and the washouts that walked skid row

he turned twenty the day before
he hopped on his first airplane
while he and others got sick
the music on the stereo played

he skipped some parts
the walking, the girls, the mundane acts
instead he talked about his friend
how they were like brothers, just like me and Jack

His boots destroyed his feet
his clothes permanently soaked to bone
he laughed with gravel in his voice
as he talked about missing home

Dean was the name
of his friend, his brother in arms
he was from Alabama
with a southern accent, rich and strong

They would talk about girls
who they had waiting in bed
nights spent on watch
guns, "nats" and hushed conversation between them

My uncle talked in clicks
spoke of companies and Charlies
his hands shook with a violence
that was only matched by his memory

Jack and I sat stone still
hanging on to every word and deep breath
knees tucked up to our chins
shaking from the excitement of what would come next

we were so young then
and knew nothing of battle, war, or loss
the term post tramatic stress disorder
was foreign to all and did nothing to help us

he leaned close so to whisper
because his natural, deep voice failed him
sweat clung to his shirt now
as his fingers held a cigarette that bounced from the trembling

The sun had made it's decent
the room was now filled with shadows
our uncle clutched his crucifix
his hand turned white from the hallow

he slowly set the scene
tilting his head back as he exhaled deeply
the Binh Duong Province, October 17th
Innocence was lost entirely on that morning

The television and papers screamed
calling it the battle of Ong Thahn
my uncle called it a waste of lives
the army called them the 2nd battalion

64 died in 2 hours
Dean, my uncles rock among them
as he spoke those words he sobbed
some of his best friends were now dead

he told us about the war
his two tours he barely lived through
talked to us about mortars, and friendly fire
and of how the scenery was so beautiful

He cussed lowly in his whispers
dried tears covered his face
He told us he never felt truly alive
after he left that god forsaken place

in the end it was the war
the war that tore him apart
dirt poor and a drunk
with a empty and violent heart

our uncle, the fun one once
divorced of our aunt and his innocence
might've as well died over there,
but life doesn't offer forgiveness

he ended up a cliche
the guy who was "really there man"
he came home fully intact
but was half the man he'd been
4/17/2015 8:01:09 PM
Farting while you sleep.

Judy Konos
Posts: 7
When the complaint department chimes in, no matter which body part they're aggravated with just say,
"Hey! don't tell me, tell God, he's the one who made it! And be sure you tell him that you could have done a much better job!" Their Silence...Works for me!
4/17/2015 7:11:55 PM
The difficulties of translation. Your opinion abou

kevin sheltra
Posts: 51
Ok I'm obviously not getting this. Sorry, I truly don't understand literally anything you're saying. I hope someone can help you out with this, good luck-Kevin
4/17/2015 6:42:28 PM
The difficulties of translation. Your opinion abou

Konstantin Achapovskiy
Posts: 4
Read a bit of articles on literary translation and translation verses directly... if even the experts can't translate, then where's the handle.....
4/17/2015 3:36:55 PM
The difficulties of translation. Your opinion abou

Konstantin Achapovskiy
Posts: 4
now try another translator, it was a version online translation
4/17/2015 2:40:11 PM
The difficulties of translation. Your opinion abou

kevin sheltra
Posts: 51
I think there must be a translation issue but this is just impossible to read and to be blunt I don't understand a bit of it. Sorry-Kevin
4/17/2015 12:50:18 PM
The difficulties of translation. Your opinion abou

Konstantin Achapovskiy
Posts: 4
I understand that no transfer, as originally intended in the poem... does not show the whole soul and the joy or sadness... I am very interested in Your opinion.
Many thanks in advance

Sit and talk
Good day, my heavenly Father... just for you... I don't pray,
It would be good to sit with you near us, to make conversation... do you want tea and you pour a glass.
To sit and talk about life... see post and you have a bad...
Why are we not getting through to You my letter... can save you from sin...

To sit and discuss the weather, soon the end will come the winter...
I know... and yet you would have asked... Dakoli? When will the war end?
You know... the thoughts in the air... keep trying... slipping away... I wanted to ask...
Why live... don't like... kill... betray... and as I continue to live...

In chess you would have played, though, and see the party end,
Not afraid to play... you know too... though only human, and you are a God.
Tell me what love is given to us, since it can't hold,
You tell me, Lord, how we should live... to let go, to forget... and as we don't suffer.

Come... I'll make pilaf, fish... a hundred grams? Will not? I help myself to a drink...
The table and wait on them... I'm sick about not going... what you ask, will tell.
Would you like to see the albums... those poems that night wrote,
Can "Aria"... there's a lot familiar.... "I'm free"... I'm sorry, I'm a little tired...

As it is easier to argue when the next... I'd much questioned you,
What in heaven there is, when Hailstones fall asleep our cities?
You know, in many respects are guilty, pray for money to succeed
In the Church come because - because, well, because we go there all...

Okay... I told you about the patient won't -- can all do now to pour you a glass of wine?
Grape... what you love, you may have made a mistake... I'm stronger drink...
You know, Lord, that you busy... hear us... may the will on Earth your...
I know that you hear all prayers, know - Affairs always do...

Good day, my heavenly Father... just for you... I don't pray
Just sit down around, no tea /wine Ile/ you pour a glass
Sit and talk about life... happiness... is about fate and love...
Why not come to You in our letters... come Lord... talk...
19.02.15 AKC
© Copyright: Konstantin Achapowski, 2015
The certificate of publication No. 115021904759
4/17/2015 10:35:39 AM
The Battle of Borodino - by Bob Atkinson

kevin sheltra
Posts: 51
Ok so I will gather up my intellect and see what I come up with, I can't use "to be" "are" "is" "was" "were" or "the"?
4/17/2015 9:41:12 AM
The Battle of Borodino - by Bob Atkinson

Bob Atkinson
Posts: 92
Kevin, would expect it to be a well written poem, not containing the words: it, the, verb "to be" (is are was were). A maximum of one or two "the" words. Have meaning, be well researched, and tell us something we didn't know before, making us think more about the subject. Rhyme not necessary, but has to have rhythm, although as I've said, Hindu textbooks are in rhyme and verse, (something we should think about doing). Would expect it to have emotional impact, (remember poetry's definition: "the emotional content of literature"). Else, you're free to dazzle me with your brilliance dude. Go for it.
4/17/2015 9:23:07 AM
The Battle of Borodino - by Bob Atkinson

kevin sheltra
Posts: 51
Ok, so just to clarify any type of war poem or do you have something certain in mind?
4/17/2015 9:03:27 AM
The Battle of Borodino - by Bob Atkinson

Bob Atkinson
Posts: 92
OK Kevin, my friend, time to put up, or shut up. Post your war poem, or give it up.
You said you can write as well as Simon, Henley and Frey, let's see it.

Raise His Glass and Sing

- by Bob Atkinson


from time of great regret

we bounced back with wide grins

and we, the poor defenseless wits

found ourselves back home again

times they were a'troubling us

we had so hard devolved

into a senseless disordered mess

could not rise above the sound

dejection toward our lack of future

in that battle hard

came down to finite reason

ours was not a purpose proud

but, for some unknown logic

we survived this troubled mess

came home to crossed purpose

our legion then dispensed

but here, in this darkened tavern

we've found a function proud

get drunk and forget about

that war that raged so loud
4/16/2015 7:15:36 PM
Has anyone else had poetry deleted by PoetrySoup?

Wally Flint
Posts: 7
I just had two poems deleted by poetry soup. What happened was I deleted one poem myself, then I tried to reload the page (the "My Poems" page). I got a message that asked me if I wanted to repost form data, to which I said yes. Then when the page came back the top poem on my list ("Angels") was deleted. I tried a second time to refresh the page and again it asked me if I wanted to repost form data, again I said yes, and again the highest poem ("48 Years") was deleted. After that I got wise and left the my poems page, then when I came back to it later it would refresh okay. This is some kind of malfunction of the web site but it sure is devastating as I had a lot of comments and high ratings on my poems. And of course, people aren't going to come back and rate them a second time. Anyway, I don't know how to contact the poetry soup team so I don't know if my poems can be recovered, or if the problem can be fixed. Can anybody help me?
edited by wallyflint on 4/16/2015
edited by wallyflint on 4/16/2015
edited by wallyflint on 4/16/2015

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