»
Archives
»
Critical Analysis #2
»
The Funeral of Papere
| Critical Analysis #2 |
|
The Funeral of Papere |
|
|
Trevor Senior Member
since 1999-08-12
Posts 700Canada |
The steps cracked and worn by the constant scratch of pilgraming soles and the somber drag of reluctant feet weighed down by more than heavy shoes, led upward to the church or downward to the street. The doors, tall and oak, opened on a Tuesday to pray for and not with Papere. It was here to be found the gateway to Heaven, salvation and sorrow. All life’s answers crammed inconspicuously inside four walls ornately decorated with stained glass pictorials and gold, guarded only by wood, key and God. Pews lined the church to line the people to keep the sinners in place, the saints more comfortable and parted in the middle for the Holy levee to drain. Music, (though taming notes are known to soothe a toothy beast), does not always change a mood. Especially for those viewing the dead and double that truth for those laid to rest in their best pine box suit, (the one saved hanging throughout a lifetime, neatly pressed, waiting to be the social crest of its owner and petrified to be spilled upon. Even now its luring charm made the wearer appear to be more fortunate than he actually was). We said his peace for he spoke no more, yet he still told his stories and still we heard his voice on the lips of legacies and the friends he kept. I could not bring myself to weep for him, many did this already, hunched over in grief, inches from the deceased begging for there to be a heaven tucked in above the clouds. Instead my pity coveted mourners for its the living who appreciate tears and its the living who still have death to fear and I knew there was nothing I could do, ever, to make Papere feel better. He never asked to be carried or driven anywhere but now he had no choice. Perhaps now he did not care. The cold ground waited, wide and smiled, to swallow a child returning to its forever fold. Lowered in an alley of rowed dead, counted like days scratched on a prison wall, remembered only by those still serving a life sentence, my how death adds up. That day we fought against our memories to fill a hole that left a larger one behind. For with every death of a loved one a piece of self that can not wait latches to their grave to wait by their side until the time comes when, we too, can no longer appreciate tears. |
||
| © Copyright 2002 Trevor Davis - All Rights Reserved | |||
|
The Napkin Writer Member
since 2002-06-28
Posts 70 |
This is one of the most beautiful pieces I've read. It brings me to a slow thought of my own appreciation for life. Wonderful in deed..... Originally Yours, |
||
|
Not A Poet Member Elite
since 1999-11-03
Posts 3885Oklahoma, USA |
Hey Trevor, is that really you? Long time no see, my friend. Don't be such a stranger. This is beautifully done. Having just buried my own father a little over a week ago, I'm not yet ready to comment much on this one other to say it brought up a whole lot of emotion. Well done, Pete |
||
|
Trevor Senior Member
since 1999-08-12
Posts 700Canada |
Hi Napkin writer, Thanks for your comments. Hiya Pete, Ya its been awhile since I was afloat on the internet. Glad to see that you and Brad are still behind the Oz'ian curtain pulling levers and pushing buttons  Thanks for your comments. Sorry to hear about the passing of your father, always a difficult time. Papere was actually my grandfather, he passed on a few years back however I've always struggled with it because of how long and painful his death was and how hard it was, not only on himself but the family as a whole. I have another poem about his death rather than buriel, perhaps I'll post it and it might help sum up these feelings.Anyways thanks for the welcome back. Hopefully I'll have the fuel to stick around for a longer stretch this time. Good to be back. Take care, Trevor |
||
|
jbouder Member Elite
since 1999-09-18
Posts 2534Whole Sort Of Genl Mish Mash |
Trev: I think I recall long, long ago you writing something that touched on this subject and that I was impressed by your grasp of different perspectives surrounding it. The beginning seemed a little bogged down in the description of the setting. quote: This is where the poem, for me, began to gain momentum. The imagery in the previous stanzas didn't seem to capture the mood for me of where I think you were going. This is where I began to sense the aloofness and conflict within the "speaker" (and I liked it). My suggestion would be to tighten up the half of the poem leading up to the section I quoted. I think your insight into differing perspectives on death (faith, fear, despair, powerlessness) comes across strongly in portions of the poem. Those portions grabbed me. Now ... if I can only remember my password [click] |
||
|
Trevor Senior Member
since 1999-08-12
Posts 700Canada |
Jim, so nice to "see" you again. How the heck are you? I just sent you an email, if you have time lets catch up. "The beginning seemed a little bogged down in the description of the setting." Yeah it kinda is. The feel of the setting I was trying to capture is standing outside before and after service. Nothing really "hits home" until you are near the casket. I wanted it to seem that the only thing to take in was the physical environment where this event took place until I neared the deceased and his mourners. Kinda like making it seem like someone is going to dinner at a restaurant, "Oh, is this the place, well it has a patio, glass doors and they play Sinatra. Neat.". I wanted it to be more like to seperate experiences rolled into one event. That's why I waited to interject any emotional value until later in the poem. Perhaps a couple more stanzas are needed to make a clearer and more steady transition between voyeur and unsettled participant stanzas....And definetely a rewrite. The first person I let read this poem said it lacked emotions and seemed too "cold" a piece for the subject matter. Perhaps you and he are right. Personally I hate the second stanza but haven't found or written a better way to make the transition from the steps, to the church, to inside the church, to the unsettling feelings about the whole thing. I guess what I'm trying to say, in the long way to Tipperarry style, is that I agree with you about the first half needing some tightening, however, I think I'll stick in the direction of plain imaging for the first half but I would also like to add more emotional description to the last half. That may better relay the differences in emotional states between being there and feeling there. As always, thanks so much for your insight, always a big help. Talk to ya later, take care, Trevor |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
