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Epitaph (Free verse) by philn If all the world's a stage
I made my entrance long ago
Into the middle class, downtrodden caste
That I have called my home.
Reared to love convention
And to hate all that is free
I have traded self-reliance
And embraced conformity
I sought six figure jobs
And I wed the richest wife
For without dollars, there's no sense
In living out this life
I hid well these bloodstained hands
Bitter as an unshed tear
And I have built myself a tower
Of ambition through the years
But Babel and my fortunes fell
One dark and dreary day
So I sought to sneak through heaven's gates
Stolen wings and evil ways
Now I black out this brief candle
My monologue is done
The curtain call, the exit
The breath of God is gone.
Up the ladder:
Your sad goodbye
Down the ladder:
The ABC's Of Adultery
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 6.428571
Posted: May 7, 2004 5:15 AM PDT; Last modified: May 7, 2004 5:15 AM PDTWeighted score: 5.384202 Overall Rank: 3237 Comments:
[n/a]
zodiac @ 67.240.192.123
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7-May-04/5:23 AM
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Reply
If ever a poem was in need of a good smacking, it's this one.
This poem is as entertaining as shopping with pants full of follow through, in a large out of town shopping centre, knowing that you have to get the bus home and someone has taken an overdose in the toilet affording you no possibility of discarding your soiled under garments.
-10_
Needs work, but I like it. It is the lot of the middle class to be ashamed of who they are - something not true of the poor or the rich. It is the bourgeois burden.
What a load of crap. And anyway, he doesn't say the middle class is ashamed, he says it's downtrodden. This is also crap.
Of course being Welsh you are in your own seperate catergory which has no idea of how ashamed you should be of everyting they have ever done.
Mechanically it's not to shabbily done, I'd say. The endrhymes weave without any noticeably intrusion.
The meter chugs right along, slightly bumpy toward the end there - but serves to let the reader know the station approaches. I'd try to hack out some of the conjunctions, in particular but carefully since it would affect the good flow. Philosphically, I'm willing to accept it as a character perspective, one that although I personally don't quite relate to it, I can understand. Have an Eight. A few more poetic techniques would notch it up pretty easily, given the success of the mechanics used.
bunk
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