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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: The Day I Dieddots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: WolfStar
    ASL Info:    26/F/California
    Elite Ratio:    6.85 - 119/130/46
    Words: 345
    Class/Type: Poetry/
    Total Views: 1598
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2145



    Description:
       Inspired by the song "Passage" by Vienna Teng.


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

    dotsThe Day I Dieddots
    -------------------------------------------


    The tone of the green flat line on the screen was brief:
    the nurses thought it rude to let it sing
    its bleak little ditty
    so like funeral bells; an angry lament that
    I would never voice
    when I was still alive.

    The people who thought they knew me
    began to plan between bunches of wet tissues
    thinking they missed me, but really didn’t,
    caught as they were in the drama of posthumous life,
    wondering beneath their sobs
    how long they had left to suffer merrily on earth.

    With clinical precision I was violated
    by strange hands,
    dressed and arranged
    so as not to frighten fragile minds who
    grieved not with grief, but pity and due consideration.

    My wife spoke from her black widow’s veil
    assuring whomever doubted
    that I had been a good man,
    though if I weren’t
    her words wouldn’t change their order,
    nor would my son and daughters
    quit their weeping,
    not knowing what it meant,
    nor what strange man they saw
    in the raised cushioned box.

    The bald man in the cassock spoke kindly
    though the man he spoke of was unknown to me
    as I listened in fascination
    to a list of achievements that were mine
    and attitudes that were not, after which
    the dirt was packed over my cramped little box
    by men who smoked and chatted as they toiled.

    My wife and children still came by
    until my wife came and never left
    and my children were left to the task
    of remembering a man whom they saw
    in old, faded pictures
    and honored with neither
    affection nor bitterness.
    I was a stranger they loved by custom
    at whose grave they placed the exact flower
    which I had hated most in life,
    not knowing that it mattered to me now,
    not knowing that I collected their little tears,
    and others’ as well, in a cup,
    and, upon taking a sip, found the drink to be
    a dissatisfying brew indeed.




    Submitted on 2005-05-14 18:13:33     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

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    ||| Comments |||
      Hey wolfstar..
    this was... i can't even think of a wrod to describe it.. ah, found it... This was a one of the most unique poems that I have ever seen. THis is one of those poems that make me think, "Hot damn , I wish I wrote like that!"

    This is such an interesting view point , the dead observing his own funerall.. especially the part about the eulogy, it's so true:

    "though the man he spoke of was unknown to me
    as I listened in fascination
    to a list of achievements that were mine
    and attitudes that were not, ..."

    I always thought that there was way too much bull present in most eulogies, and that if I died , I would not want one at all.

    I have wondered what those whose bodies are dead think about those who live. It is a little embarassing to think that they may see everything that we try to hide from others!

    your poem wasn't very sad, which was pleasantly suprising, most poems about dealt are morbid, serious or sad. Your poem dealt with death with the respect that it deserves, but was unique in its viewpoint, with a twist of bitter-sweet humour.

    I felt that alot of what you wrote could be very real thoughts of a soul, as it leaves it's body.
    When I'm at a funeral, and I see fake tears, and forced mourning, it makes me wince. Now after reading your poem, it would feel even worse to see the false tears, because your poem had made me think of what a souldfeels at the funeral of its body, they must surely be able to see the insincerity of some people! Not all people are insincere at funerals though, so that's a good thing.

    well, yeah, I think you can tell that I liked your poem. I'll be back

    ciao bella

    PEnny
    | Posted on 2005-11-02 00:00:00 | by barefootangel | [ Reply to This ]
      Ok so I have finally arrived here and I am amazed. Most people who write on this subject talk of weird darkness and sythes and maybe even vampires but this is surprisingly mature and thoughtful, moreso because it comes from one who is still quite young in years.

    The whole write has a theme of detachment. I was almost expecting some melodramatic experience of sobbing grief but it talks of simply coming and going in a world that is coming and going.

    The ending was also good, and I think my favourite part of the writing. I remember an old saying from some tribal race that said one is only truly dead when one's name becomes difficult to remember. I guess it brings it to mind because you talk a lot of how the reality of one's life is distorted by death, not just in obvious ways -lol, but how memory, imagination and the impressions we make on others creates a very unstable image, even when we are supposedly still alive and kicking.
    | Posted on 2005-10-28 00:00:00 | by kanu | [ Reply to This ]
      this is so very unique and wonderfully written. there is so much packed in here, but the end with the drinking of the tears... brilliant. really. i've read a few other of your poems and find you to be delightful and profound. thanks for sharing.
    !Cat
    | Posted on 2005-05-18 00:00:00 | by magnicat | [ Reply to This ]
      This is one of the most original pieces I've seen in a long time, and that difinatley gives you major points. I also love the way it flows into a nice little narrative, a story almost. It is a perfect, yet rather morbid view of death...a view that is so very sickeningly true about so many people. It's sad that a person can die, only to wither away in people's memories...as if he had never reallyexisted. The wife and children, saddened more out of custom that grief...that is so sick, and so true, and so REAL. I just really like this idea, and i think that you carried it out beautifully. Great job, this is really a wonderful piece.
    | Posted on 2005-05-14 00:00:00 | by Scribbles1338 | [ Reply to This ]
      Just when I think there are no new subjects in poetry, this was refreshing to find in an odd sort of way. Sometimes you have to set yourself back to get the true vision its amazing how many people do things because they think it is what they are suppose to do.
    | Posted on 2005-05-14 00:00:00 | by inkonspikuous | [ Reply to This ]
      Wow. I'd never really read a poem that described the dead's feelings after death. This was like the dead man wasn't dead at all; the living only thought him dead as he witnessed their fake grief and false longing.

    The ending was really good. It is the end of a piece that leaves its impression on the reader; applying to poetry, novels, music, et cetera.

    The way you let the lines fall flowed well with this piece. What also contributes to good impressions is punctuation. Many writers find punctuation to be of least importance when compared to the content, but it isn't true. Punctuation is essential to the overall structure of the poem; you've achieved that quite nicely. You've also spelled every word correctly; careless misspellings can obviously distort a poem.

    Great job; this was a very unique poem for me
    -Azrael
    | Posted on 2005-05-14 00:00:00 | by Tears of Azrael | [ Reply to This ]


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