Matteo Posted May 22, 2003 Report Share Posted May 22, 2003 This poem is written in a style that is kind of strange, you need to keep the lines flowing, it doesn't have a definite rhythm, it's not meant to. Read it almost as if it were prose. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A Valediction to Life Today I learned something, A lesson not taught in seminaries, Not even in life do most encounter its sting. And yet to most, it drives us, it’s that unknown; That intangible, fathomless push – with no haven. The words it writ and prayers it carries, Left cold with messenger craven. I watched as people trudged The streets, a strangely lonely throng, For none saw the other, none knew yet still they judged That stranger for the pain they held within themselves. I walked the further, and on it went, My time in society, I thought ill spent, But wings above the brow of grey appeared, And there my private lesson took flight, My eyes, his strife, they peered. The man with wings was on his knees, His wrist a mess of gauze and tape, Soaked with scarlet woe. That sobbing mass in sorry shape; His voice aquake he grovelled there, Hands interwoven in knots of prayer. Yet contention flowed from ‘twixt those parch’ed lips, As to his fists, then to the ground he dropped His head, then rose those tearful eyes, To those of another, To what other I found surprise. While he, in thoughtful dapper did reside, His patron wrapped haphazardly, In rages and vagabond trappings, Slouched with the oppression of society, Hung in ghastly silence, an odd propriety. Yet still that man sobbed at his feet, But stranger still, I watched his wings, They withered, upon his back. The man in rude attire, With sordid demeanour and strife strewn features, Had seen too many day and night, Without shelter from the blight. As wax and wane the moon does grow, This man lived mired, So few his goals, but one he desired. And at his toes it would seem, A single spark, A sole adherence, of hope. It wept, he wept, but still he confided, A companion to sorrow, mistreatment and err, He rambled of life and injustice. Of his wife, he spoke his most odious words, But more to an absence, an absence of her, “My life is in shambles, what am I to do? My wife, she has left me… my little one too.” “But naught I’ve to live for,” he lifted his hand, Protruding his bandaged wrist, The life still seeped from beneath the wrappings and fell To meet with its kin, vivacious but bland, Testament to a lost life, but not a life of loss, Though it seamed he perceived thus. “I loved her most dearly, no feelings contend, And gone with my daughter, my life’s at an end. I’ll finish it now... God damn the villainy!” A valediction to life, I thought those words were his last, He revealed a blade and pulled back the dressings, Then the hand of the vagrant, took that man’s fist And pulled away the knife, His eyes possessed a fire in them now, He scorned that man’s strife. As fist in hand, the ragged man shifted, He tossed aside the blade, No variance in deviance, he straightened his form, I saw that the mourner’s wings no longer existed; But something I never expected to see, Made my heart fumble, as protruding now, From the old beggar’s back, stumps of new wings came to be. Thus he spoke, a voice bold, not withdrawn or timid, As a voice you’d expect from a man who’s been beaten By life and its heart, barely tepid, “You are truly ignorant; I can bear it no longer, You cry for your life, you whimper, For that which you had and lost… and to what? “Did you stumble one day and drop you conviction, Or loose your lust, or was it all fiction? A story of love and nothing more, a fabrication?” Amazed as before, as the wanderer spoke, Those stubs of perfection took growth! “No! It was none of these!” The other man cried, “Then why with such ease did you let it all die? “You snivel before me, when ‘tis I who have lost my life, But nay, ‘tis you on your knees. You are selfish, and arrogant, a piteous thing, Why didn’t you try harder if you do love your wife? No discrepancy too large to overcome love, You couldn’t have tried. “I have a wife, yes, have, not had, Yet she died ten years ago now, But still I hold that eternal affection that brought us together. She lives in my heart, and still we are married…” He paused in remembrance, a tender affliction, The dapper man looked deserted, and strangely aghast. The rough one spoke forth upon seeing this, “Look at my life, we shared it, Not in shame, and we fought to stay together, ‘till my wife I did bury.” His wings in full splendour, the beggar ascended, “I join her now, and you to yours must adhere, You’ll live through those scars; as with love they are mended.” I haven’t moved from this spot, it’s been hours since then, With my pen to this paper, still I cannot truly relate, Yet what I learned is too important not to try. I shall teach this I think, to others I find in need, And this lesson I preach, Will start with these lines, “Today I learned something, A lesson not taught in seminaries, Not even in life do most encounter its sting.” Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Matteo Posted May 22, 2003 Author Report Share Posted May 22, 2003 I'd like your opinions on the end, moreover I'd like to know if it is effective. Is the recap necessary? I'm trying a new style, I hope it worked out alright. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Nobody of Consequence Posted May 22, 2003 Report Share Posted May 22, 2003 Two quick things. "He paused in remembrance, a tender affliction" is a perfectly respectable line. My inclination, though, would be to make it something along the lines of: "He paused in tender affliction". I find poetry is always strongest when pithiest. Second thing. This has promise, but it's also longer than I think it needs to be. I think you are right to do the recap at the end. Perhaps you could consider ways to say exactly the same things with fewer words, condense your imagery? In terms of style, stick with it. I think the most important thing is that it provides the right vehicle for your thoughts. I also feel that the somewhat colloqial formats of free verse really suit the everyday world from which the narrator views this scene. Hope that helps some. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Cyril Darkcloud Posted May 22, 2003 Report Share Posted May 22, 2003 Nicely done, Matteo. A piece of this length, however, requires a bit of time to really engage -- don't be surprised if feedback is a bit slow because of that. That being said, it's worth bumping this piece back up to the top to keep it in front of our eyes a little longer. With a little luck I'll have some time to put together a few thoughts on it for posting in the Critics' Corner during the next couple days. Hopefully a few others will be able to do so as well since you seem to have put no small amount of effort into composing it. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Sorciere Posted May 23, 2003 Report Share Posted May 23, 2003 The man with wings was on his knees, His wrist a mess of gauze and tape, Soaked with scarlet woe. I absolutely love this part, I had a vivid picture of it as I read it. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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