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Open Poetry #42
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Jaime Fradera
Senior Member
since 2000-11-25
Posts 843
Where no tyranny is tolerable

0 posted 2008-02-27 10:57 AM



Death
It is morning.
I am sitting in the English classroom.
We are to take the final exam.
I have rarely been in this classroom
and have not read all the material.
In fact, now that I think of it,
I haven't even read ... ...
I know I am going to flunk
but go through the motions of taking the test anyway.
Because everybody else is working.
I find a few sheets of paper
that seem to have been left on the table at random.
I put one into the Braille writer.
I write my name at the top,
then I realize it doesn't matter
because mine is the only one that will be in Braille.
The teacher begins reading out the questions,
but there is such a jangling den of voices
that I can not hear the teacher.
Then it comes to me it doesn't matter
because I am going to flunk the test anyway.
I will have to tell Jean I can not hear.
I over  hear a scrap of something,
a question that is being given for extra credit:
What might it have been like
to have interviewed Adolph Hitler?
I have read and could write something about this.
Again, it comes to me it doesn't matter
because I'm going to flunk the test anyway.

The room begins to move
as if it were a vehicle.
I feel the vibrations of its motions
as it travels on the streets,
stops at traffic lights, turns, etc.
It stops at my apartments and I get off.

It is afternoon.
I am very tired as I enter my pad.
I lie on the couch and hear the Death Song,
an eerie, haunting, morbid melody,
A shrill, tremulous soprano.
that evokes chilling dread and foreboding,
in a high quavering female voice,
which can not be reproduced on Pip.
I sit on a bench next to a man
who is setting up his equipment.
I feel the jolting vibration as he turns on the saw.
I flee to the bedroom to wait.
When he is finished, I hear him turn on my vacuum.
to clean up the debris left on the floor.
When he is finished, I come out to thank him.
Then I meet his work colleague and a woman named Polly.
There is a weird gurgling, hissing sound
coming from one wall of the apartment.
The man tells his work colleague
that they accidentally cut through a water line,
so that now water is leaking through the wall.
It reeks with the rank and putrid stench
of dead fish, old algae and decay.
The man tells me: no agriculture,
because producers produce produce,
which means don't eat in the kitchen,

because it will be flooded with cold hot water.
He will be back tomorrow and fix the leak.


It is night.
Everyone has left.
I walk back into the bedroom and sit on the bed.
I hear and hum the morose strains of the Death Song,
in a high quavering female voice,
A wordless, toneless dreadful dirge so melancholy and morbid,
and so deathly are the feelings it evokes,
that they just can not be reproduced on Pips.


© Copyright 2008 The Sun - All Rights Reserved
simon
Member
since 2008-01-14
Posts 440
London, England
1 posted 2008-02-27 11:09 AM


This was one of the best things I've read here- captivating all the way, in fact I'm going in for a second read...!
Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354
Listening to every heart
2 posted 2008-02-27 11:30 AM


Well done, Jaime. You got both outside of yourself, and then back within, and you took me with you.

Thank you!


shirtless
Member
since 2006-04-29
Posts 359

3 posted 2008-02-27 11:43 AM


I read this with great interest. It reminded me of my experiences as an English teacher, and reminded me of a poem I wrote about the coming of death. I posted the poem today.  It's called EVENTS OF THE HEART. Hope you read it.

Anyway, I found your piece very captivating and look forward to reading more of your work.

regards,
shirtless

poetry podcasts, blogs and[ photopoems at URL= http://anthonyarmstrong.ca

Margherita
Member Seraphic
since 2003-02-08
Posts 22236
Eternity
4 posted 2008-02-27 12:24 PM


Dear Jaime, this was really a fantastic read. You rendered the emotion so very well!

love
Margherita

Earth Angel
Member Empyrean
since 2002-08-27
Posts 40215
Realms of Light
5 posted 2008-02-27 01:34 PM


Jaime, you are one talented writer! I was engaged and hanging onto every word from start to finish!

"A wordless, toneless dreadful dirge so melancholy and morbid,
and so deathly are the feelings it evokes,
that they just can not be reproduced on Pips."

~ Aw, but you just did reproduce it on Pips!
~ And very realistically, at that!

Big, loving hug,
EA

Roniece Dawson-Bruce
Member Ascendant
since 2000-01-29
Posts 5689
Sydney, Australia
6 posted 2008-02-28 05:42 AM


wonderful work here Jaime... wonderful!  love RDB

Be kind at heart....for everyone you meet has their own battle to fight.........

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