"Shipwreck in the Desert" by Carl Haag‘Life’s Woes’ by Michael Maibach The Society October 22, 2019 Beauty, Culture, Poetry 6 Comments In every life Woe presses down, We falter then— Face to the ground. This woe in me— Am I alone? Without high ground, Can’t see my home! I reach for earth— Find only sand. No foothold here, No place for hand. My open eyes Then finally see Above this world His plan for me. Hand of my God Now touches mine, There all along— My soul He finds. Why here on earth? This land of woe? So we can love— God’s grace to show. These woes in life They will soon pass, Guard flame of faith— God’s grace will last. Copyright 2019 Michael Charles Maibach began writing poems at age nine. Since then he has continued writing poems, and sharing them with friends. In November 2015 he opened a Facebook page – Poems of Michael Charles Maibach. It offers 140 poems written since then. His career has involved global business diplomacy. He is a native of Peoria, Illinois. Today Michael resides in Old Town Alexandria, Virginia. Views expressed by individual poets and writers on this website and by commenters do not represent the views of the entire Society. The comments section on regular posts is meant to be a place for civil and fruitful discussion. Pseudonyms are discouraged. The individual poet or writer featured in a post has the ability to remove any or all comments by emailing submissions@ classicalpoets.org with the details and under the subject title “Remove Comment.” Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Related 6 Responses C.B. Anderson October 22, 2019 Michael, I like the short lines — they have punch — but why so many bad rhymes? Surely you had time to perfect the execution of your idea, which was not a bad one. Just for the hell of it, take note of this, another dimeter poem with an even more exacting rhyme scheme: GOATS Profoundly lost, we sin in haste and do our best to breach your trust. Our paternos- ters, liquor-laced, are prayed in jest (to your disgust) with fingers crossed. Defiled, disgraced and self-obsessed, we are the dust that will exhaust your patience. Faced with flesh undressed, we do what must be done. Unbossed, we strain to taste what we can wrest and call it just. We bear the cost of lives laid waste, for we’ve been blest with boundless lust. So, Michael, with a bit more effort and determination, your pen contains within itself all the elements of a perfectly crafted poem. Reply Mark F. Stone October 23, 2019 Michael, As you know, everyone encounters problems and troubles in their life. Your poem can provide encouragement and solace to people in these circumstances. For this reason, I think the poem has enduring value. I hope to write a poem of this nature one day. Thank you for sharing your poem. Mark Reply James Sale October 24, 2019 Heartfelt, sincere and touching in its simplicity. Thank you Michael. Reply C.B. Anderson October 24, 2019 My esteemed colleagues, Why is it that you cannot recognize a shitty poem when you read one? I shouldn’t have to spell everything out. Emotional upwellings do not good poems make. As formalists we should admire form, and not the desecration of form. Hier stehe ich; ich kann nicht anders. Reply James Sale October 25, 2019 Dear CB, in answer to your question we have to keep in mind Shakespeare’s comment at all times: “Use every man after his desert and who should ‘scape whipping” Who of us, indeed? Every man and woman who offers a poem (excluding post-modernists etc) offers something from their heart, and you know, they need to be encouraged, not dismissed. As with the widow’s mite, we are all of us offering so little in real terms, but even so to have it rejected is sorely punishing. There is a wonderful story surrounding Dale Carnegie in the ’50s. Asked how he had been able to create more millionaire employees than any other company in the world (at that time), he replied that hiring employees was like digging for gold – in order to find an ounce of gold, you had to dig through tons of dirt; but if you focused on the dirt, you would never find the gold. Such is my approach, then, whenever I am asked to review or decide to look at a poem: I ask myself, Where is the gold in this? As for the hierarchy, we all do it, but we shouldn’t since it doesn’t help us write better. Michael Maibach has felt deeply, has had some profound life experiences, and is using form, which I like. He is an important contributor to these pages. In my review of your work I think I invoked George Herbert as a sort of presiding muse; we need different approaches for different poets and yet that does not mean inconsistency – at least, I hope it doesn’t. All the best. Reply C.B. Anderson October 25, 2019 I hope, James, that you will not be henceforth known as the great compromiser. I think it is the critic’s duty dictum: to serve no master but the truth. To use a baseball umpire’s dictum: I call ’em like I see ’em. I don’t care how deeply a writer feels if said writer is unable to execute a decent poem in accordance with the (constitutive) rules of the game. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.