Poetry: Funeral March in F

poetry funeral march

After having enormous fun writing my last prose poetry/numbered poem, I then went on a spree and wrote several more. (Not all of which I’m going to share, because a) during that kind of writing process I tend to reuse all my best lines and b) THEY ARE COMPLETELY ATROCIOUS AND INCOMPREHENSIBLE.)

Weirdly, I went through my music phase before orchestra. This one was kind of inspired by someone I know who found their old transcription of Enya’s Watermark. I had to play a with lot with the weird formatting in order to make it work with WordPress *glares*.

I don’t like it as much as my last one. I feel like it’s maybe missing something, but I’ve been editing it for way too long now to tell exactly what. I think I just need to take a break. As ever, comments and critique are much appreciated. 🙂 (Though just a warning: If you’re sensitive to language, then maybe pass over this one.)


Funeral March in F
i. you play in F sharp major from our out of tune piano. the keys cut your skin to a bloody mess, but you brush me away: it’s nothing, you say as you transcribe with dripping fingers. it makes no difference. (but you still stained the photo.)
ii. I don’t want a fucking gift, you seethe as we leave the concert hall. you tell me to the trundles of the bus that a gift is nothing but the whim of a god, that you’d rather build from your own blood and bone than cut someone else. (but don’t they say that the knife always knows its master?)
iii. you live in the fridge light from three in the morning, when the kitchen is cast in empty fifths. the piano is your midnight company, your dance partner across dark keys: I try to mimic your skeleton chords, but you refuse my touch with durezza.
iv. you’re spinning to fast, too far. you confide in me with shaking vocals how you cry in the bedroom, the bathroom, the shower. I know your theory is gone when you go on to preach of stars and spontaneous combustion and things you never used to believe in, about how the universe will make an exception for you just this once. (I should have seen the madness in your eyes. I should have known what would come.)
iv. you’re standing, and it’s wrong wrong wrong –
you were supposed to –
no
nonononononoNO
NO
no
v. I used to think that the world was full of too much beauty, but not anymore. remember, I watched your body fall like a broken bird. I watched you as you stood poised to fly, soaring, until your bones fell heavy with heartaches and you crumpled to the floor. I remember, and I do not forgive.
vii. their sighs merge into an endless stream of sorrysorrysorry that comes in and out with the days like the tide. my steps are slow, syncopated; grave, they’d say in italy. (but have no fear, darling: I’m not quite ready to give up this metronome yet.)
viii. I remember how you played F sharp major, the keys cutting your fingers to a bloody mess. I look down at my own perfect palms and at last, with your silver-scarred hands folded across your corpse in prayer, I cry.

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9 thoughts on “Poetry: Funeral March in F

  1. Hmm, yes, I do agree that there’s something off-key (excuse the pun) about this. I love ii and viii, but I’d take issue with iv; this doesn’t quite have the rhythm for poetry, and the arrangement is more towards the poetry side than poetic prose. And the words are a tad too burdensome; trim down on the longer words and the adjectives possibly? But the core imagery is lovely; you pursue this piano idea beautifully.

    • *scrubs eyes* Yes, I do see what you mean now you mention it. Thank you for pointing those things out!
      (I’ll admit, iv was basically just me being lazy…) I think I just need to work more on it all round, to be honest, but I was getting a little bit tired and irritated with it. I feel like it would be better to perhaps leave it for a while and then come back to edit with fresh eyes. 🙂

  2. Whoa. That was very good. However, I do agree with Alyssa on iv being a bit off- it seems more like a paragraph there then a poem. Also- can you tell me the main idea, like, what it’s about? It’s a lovely writing style, but I’m afraid I don’t fully understand what’s going on. Other than that, this was wonderful! *applauds*

    • Yeeahh I think I’m probably going to have to change that at some point? >.<
      Ahaha I'm sorry that it was so ambiguous! (I mean, it was a pretty ambiguous idea, so.) It was supposed to be the narrator dealing with someone's death, but somewhere along the way I got too caught up in the music metaphors and they kind of became real.

  3. I don’t love this one quite as much as the last one – it’s still good, but it’s certainly more like prose than a poem. Also, I’m with Evi on the whole main idea confusion; you have a great writing style, but I don’t really know what it’s about. (Somebody played music and then that person died… or something? I don’t know, I’m just speculating here. :P) But anyway – other than those small things, it’s lovely, and the imagery is asdfghjkl; gorgeous as usual.

    • The idea I had was quite vague – I should probably sit down with slightly clearer thoughts, haha. (That was basically the gist of it.)
      I’m definitely not as happy with this one, but I’m glad you enjoyed it anyway. 🙂

    • Thank you! I think I’ve been nominated for this at some point already (*hurriedly scrolls down comments*) but I’d love to do it! 🙂 Hehe, I’ll just link both of you.

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