The Poverty I Am Saddest About.... Poem by Sylvia Frances Chan
The Poverty I Am Saddest About....
(he shouts about politics, while we have here about poetry)
....he read that
mine poetry about this poverty
the stupidity started scolding me
declared instantly me-moi as its enemy
its words, so absurd
a lunatic so terrific
not its area nor its section
I oft write in Dutch and this is mine declaration
I do now one step lower
from "it" I step a bit lower down to "his"
his profession does not read poetry
but he thought he could read
poetry poesy and poems
true very pity
not his art nor his profession
he meddles in everything
mine poetic wings, not his thing
Oft to my Queendom he comes
he thinks he could reign me
that was his greatest mistake
he thought he could read
I too thought that he could read
but....I was mistaken
mine loved friend said he loves to read
I too thought that he loves to read
it seemed so, it looked so
but....I was mistaken
after having walked amongst this poverty
I must conclude in tears and tragedy
this is the worst and most tragic comedy
I ever knew after my literal study
after he read my poetry
in the darkest café while drinking wild wine
he copied the full title of mine poetry
"Saddest about the poverty nowadays"
and instantly mailed me,
that I started talking about politics
I thought he could read poetry
but....I was mistaken
my loved one never knew
the alienating appearance of this blind male
I wrote about true poetry and its poverty
he associated with politics
once again here I repeat my last poem's title
"Saddest about the poverty nowadays"
his unwanted eyes are peeping constantly
copying my poem, the constant liar
he read mine poetry
I wrote about the poverty in poetry
instantly he started shouting about politics
just like this fake person
he has that poverty I have in mind
about vocabulary, grammar, and all that kind
I thought he could read poetry
I was mistaken
he was peeping constantly
at mine poetry
I wrote about words, nouns
the present and the past
and all the tenses
it pained all my senses
when he accused me of politics
of yelling at innocent persons
shouting at innocent poets
not mine strife in this forsaken life
I am suffering from pain
restrained
I thought he was clever
I am now mistaken forever
Oft I asked my lover
do you wish to know who he is?
he is all there darkest is, except God's Bliss
a constant stalker, an insane chatter
an aliphatic androgyne appearance
this is the biggest difference….
Photography by Sylvia Frances Chan: "Winter-Mourning Landscape"
© Sylvia Frances Chan
Copyright Protected
AD.Wednesday the 17th of January 2018.
@ 8.43 hrs.A.M. West-European Time
I just loved the making of, the creating of this poem.
The person exists really, but I have nothing against him,
this happened real long time ago.
This man was bullying frequently, stalking all the time,
he was jealous of me, I did not know the reason until now and he was constantly lying. I have the idea that PH and Team forbade him to give comments again. He THOUGHT that I was writing about politics, but I was writing about the grammar mistakes in poems. A poet/poetess ought to have checked first his/her poems before he/she submitted. That´s all I have written about. None about politic or political mis-managements. I do not deny, I love the making of a poem.
That is why I have written such a long poem about only one topic.
But this stalker is a real person who never appears anymore on PH.
He told me he was a psychologist, my best friend knows him and told me that he is not. Both live in the same town. God cares about me, us,
and that is why I came to know through this best friend of me.
WHO could think that they live in the same town and this man is already well-known there about his bad habits. In front of me he is always very cute and caring, but behind my back and with a pseudonym
he was chasing me. My fellow poets from Poetfreak poem site (this poem site was closed on the 31st Dec 2016) know him thoroughly by his real name, but I know him with every new pseudonym he was coming to stalk me, but I said to him that I will be never afraid of him, I am only afraid of The Almighty, and I will never go away, let he himself go away because he cannot write a poem nor write decent English.
I will never disappoint my parents who had paid and supported my study in the English Language-and-Literature at the University of Trisakti in Jakarta, Indonesia.
The background of this poem is important to know for the readers.
I have written expressly in easy English, so every reader knows what
I am talking about. The problems this stalker was causing, I brought them all at the feet of the Lord, like Hiskia had done that as it was told in the Bible.
When we cannot solve own problems, we bring them all to God.
Thank you so much for reading and giving my poem a comment.
These Notes I have just added now, my deep apologies, not earlier and that´s why so few readers´comments.
© Sylvia Frances Chan
Sunday, the 30th of December 2018
@ 7.04 hrs. A.M. West-European Time
he read mine poetry I wrote about the poverty in poetry instantly he started shouting about politics just like this fake person............ a very interestind poem. politics, poverty, poetess. thinking. an insane chatter. thank u dear poetess Sylvia
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/6/2024 4:19:26 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Thank you so much for your kindest compliment and valuable comments, Dr. Tony. God Blesses you. Amen.