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Final Act
| Critical Analysis #1 |
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Final Act |
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Poertree Senior Member
since 1999-11-05
Posts 1359UK |
Final Act No doubt there were black cars, black clothes and tears, All I saw at the grave side were the years of her joy. No doubt there were chants and prayers and rites, All I heard was her giggle, the delight of her laugh. No doubt there was pious consternation. I partied inside in celebration of her life. And no doubt she peered down between the yews, pleased with my act. |
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| © Copyright 1999 Poertree - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Robin Junior Member
since 1999-08-07
Posts 48Cardiff, Wales, UK |
This is just wonderful. A beautiful sentiment, beautifully expressed. Write on! Robin |
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Poertree Senior Member
since 1999-11-05
Posts 1359UK |
Sorry Robin, I should have said thank you before now for the kind comment ... so a late "thanks"  |
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Brad Member Ascendant
since 1999-08-20
Posts 5705Jejudo, South Korea |
Yes, this is a strong poem. The final two lines bring the poem together very well. I'm intrigued by the rhyme scheme however. You have two two line stanzas with perfect rhymes , one with an almost rhyme and the last one (thank God for no rhyme; it's stronger that way) with none. The rhymed stanzas are about the funeral (ritual) and what you are are feeling as well as how other people see you. The other two stanzas are about what the deceased character does. So, is this society as stifling form, life as form and death without it? I'm getting tired I think, Brad |
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Vers Librist Junior Member
since 1999-11-10
Posts 16 |
I really enjoyed this poem. For some reason, the word "partied" seemed a little awkward, but that might just be me. I really loved your poem as a whole and the feelings you conveyed--beautiful! |
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jamaicabradley Junior Member
since 1999-11-04
Posts 39 |
I really like this poem, and the pace is good, except,the last line doesn't seem to flow, for me anyway. It is a nice way to be reminded of how remember someone, even in the midst of our own sadness... ------------------ |
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Poertree Senior Member
since 1999-11-05
Posts 1359UK |
Thank you to all of you. "You do me too much honour Brad" ... I had nothing more in mind when writing this than a comment upon human nature and particularly family relationships (naturally it would be family and close friends around the grave side). In contrast to most of my stuff - which I struggle over - I wrote this in about 3 minutes and it just seemed to write itself! (From literature and I imagine real life there are many examples) Imagine the family with the rich old eccentric Aunt or Grandmother, a loner, a fighter, a real person not a fake!. Disliked, reviled and feared by the rest of the family for her outspoken and radical views ... BUT RICH (Lol). Imagine the fawning and the ingratiating comments, imagine the duplicity etc, and all the time of course she is perfectly well aware of what is going on. Then into the family is born one like her (the speaker in the poem). 80 years separate them but age is no barrier. They mesh they understand one another. They love each other, and they stand against all the others. Then she dies. Now the speaker is at the funeral. The family stand around the grave side. The sideways, glances the shifty stares. How will the speaker react - will he/she break down? ... more to the point what about the inheritance? Anything but mourning the dead relative. First the speaker manages to put on a brave face forcing thought onto all the positive things about his/her loved relative and ignoring the atmosphere around about. This stability survives the first two stanzas which as Brad says are neat and regular and rhyme. The third stanza is a watershed where the word "partied" is just a bit over the top just a little maybe hysterical and the rhyme is almost lost. Also the introduction of the word "pious" indicates the beginnings of a bitter feeling towards the relatives standing around. The final stanza is simply an admission of the grief and desperation and loneliness that the speaker really feels but at the same time a demonstration of the bravery that the departed relative would have expected. The rhyme and flow are lost and we are back to hard reality. |
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