v2:
Mozart Dying
Six weeks before he died,
his eyes rust-red, he whispered
that he was dying.
He was exhausted, overworked
and I urged him to put aside the Requiem,
to write a cheerful piece
but at some point he turned
back to it, premonitions visiting him
as frequently as debtors.
Within weeks he was bedridden,
his limbs swollen
like a body too long in a river.
How can I live without Wolferl
the way he was—like a geode,
a sparkle at his core?
Earlier today he sat up,
my sister Sophie's eyelashes
and mine trimming tears
as Wolferl laid
the Requiem's score
like a newborn child
in his lap--which he kept
gazing at as if he would never
see it again.
He turned to me, his eyes
desperate...“What did the doctor say?”
I lied—and he wailed;
he will die, his family
unprovided for,
my life lonely
like that of a staghorn's
left to its thoughts
in a deep wood.
As he slips away I crawl into bed,
to catch whatever
Wolferl has.
Top
v1:
Mozart Dying
Six weeks before he died,
his eyes rust-red, he whispered
that he was dying.
He was exhausted, overworked
and I urged him to put aside the Requiem,
to write a cheerful piece
but at some point he turned
back to it, premonitions visiting him
as frequently as debtors.
Within weeks he was bedridden,
his limbs swollen
like a body too long in a river.
How can I live joyfully
without Wolferl? Isn’t my husband
like a geode, a sparkle at his core?
Earlier today he sat up,
my sister Sophie's eyelashes
and mine trimming tears
as Wolferl laid
the Requiem's score
like a newborn child
in his lap--which he kept
gazing at as if he would never
see it again.
He turned to me, his eyes
desperate...“What did the doctor say?”
I lied—and he wailed;
he will die, his family
unprovided for.
What will life
be like without him?
I already know:
lonely, like that of a staghorn's
left to its thoughts
in a deep wood.
As he slips away I crawl into bed,
to catch whatever
Wolferl has.
Mozart Dying
Re: Mozart Dying
I like the ending. And I think the poem is pretty much good as is. This really hit me: his limbs swollen/like a body too long in a river.
-
- Posts: 2154
- Joined: 18 Apr 2005, 04:57
Re: Mozart Dying
"as Wolferl laid
the Requiem's score
like a newborn child
in his lap--which he kept
gazing at as if he would never
see it again."
Bravo, Bob, Bravo - Wonder, magnificent, how the heart of your poem sweeps me away to Michelangelo's masterpiece, La Pietà. My grandmothers encouraged my creativity, and in particular my paternal taught me Christian genius in a Machiavellian world via this iconic marble, by an icon among icons.
And many times I have seen, and still am seeing
the underlined
"Within weeks he was bedridden,
his limbs swollen
and here, Bob, now you have found the figurative for that commonplace literal:
"like a body too long in a river."
^^ Yes, it is a bloat like that - but afterall it is a fluid buildup -
^^ and now your discovery leading me to some image-making:
like dammed limbs
water dammed in limbs, oozing
water locked in limbs
water dammed my limbs more lumber than limber
water dammed by lumberous limbs
slowing the flow before the still
^^ "running to stand still" -- Bono(U2)
He turned to me, his eyes
desperate...“What did the doctor say?”
I lied—and he wailed:
"I will die, my family
unprovided for."
What will life
"I already know" - pedestrian, not needed:
What will life
be like without him?
Lonely, like that
of a staghorn's
As he slips away, I slip, too,
into our bed, to catch
whatever Wolferl has.
or maybe as:
As he slips away, I slip
into our bed, to catch
the same as Wolferi.
Bob, ultimately, you have composed a poem of the pieta archetype.
Michael (MV)
the Requiem's score
like a newborn child
in his lap--which he kept
gazing at as if he would never
see it again."
Bravo, Bob, Bravo - Wonder, magnificent, how the heart of your poem sweeps me away to Michelangelo's masterpiece, La Pietà. My grandmothers encouraged my creativity, and in particular my paternal taught me Christian genius in a Machiavellian world via this iconic marble, by an icon among icons.
And many times I have seen, and still am seeing
the underlined
"Within weeks he was bedridden,
his limbs swollen
and here, Bob, now you have found the figurative for that commonplace literal:
"like a body too long in a river."
^^ Yes, it is a bloat like that - but afterall it is a fluid buildup -
^^ and now your discovery leading me to some image-making:
like dammed limbs
water dammed in limbs, oozing
water locked in limbs
water dammed my limbs more lumber than limber
water dammed by lumberous limbs
slowing the flow before the still
^^ "running to stand still" -- Bono(U2)
He turned to me, his eyes
desperate...“What did the doctor say?”
I lied—and he wailed:
"I will die, my family
unprovided for."
What will life
"I already know" - pedestrian, not needed:
What will life
be like without him?
Lonely, like that
of a staghorn's
As he slips away, I slip, too,
into our bed, to catch
whatever Wolferl has.
or maybe as:
As he slips away, I slip
into our bed, to catch
the same as Wolferi.
Bob, ultimately, you have composed a poem of the pieta archetype.
Michael (MV)
-
- Posts: 2692
- Joined: 03 Jun 2016, 21:03
Re: Mozart Dying
Thx, Michael... thrilled you like it. I will get rid of “ I already know”.