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The Grave (thanks to z) (Free verse) by Mr Pig
Salt falls on veneer Veiled in pauper’s wood, The clock-watching chaplain sweats As I refuse to leave you. Staring at your headstone, Looking at its immortalized syntax Chosen at random by your rushed mother Who coped when I faltered. It’s quiet here, and fragrant colors are riot near. At least you’re under the willow You liked the thought of it weeping above you And all I can say, in predictable cliche, Is, God, how much I love you. I stare at the topaz clouds, damasking heaven's constant eye, Wondering as I'm watching you If you are watching I. For now, I want to believe-- People always do, when they grieve. Your epitaph, emblazoned in appropriate Catholicism: Words describing an everyman. It doesn’t matter to me, For you are inscribed on my soul.

Up the ladder: The Beach
Down the ladder: A Midnight Call

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Arithmetic Mean: 7.1666665
Weighted score: 5.5827065
Overall Rank: 2342
Posted: August 19, 2003 1:27 PM PDT; Last modified: August 20, 2003 1:57 AM PDT
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Comments:
[8] richa @ 81.86.93.104 | 19-Aug-03/1:44 PM | Reply
your word selection always intrigues, 'syntax' and 'appropriate catholicism' are particularly effective in conveying how detached ritual is from death.
[n/a] <~> @ 167.206.181.179 | 19-Aug-03/2:34 PM | Reply
[you speak of her in both second and 3rd person--in this edit, I made it all 2nd, as she is so very near, still.] witness, the z edit:

Salt falls on veneer
Veiled in pauper’s wood,
The clock-watching chaplain sweats
As I refuse to leave you.

Staring at your headstone,
Looking at its immortalized syntax
Chosen at random by your rushed mother
Who coped when I faltered.

It’s quiet here, and
fragrant colors are riot near.
At least you’re under the willow
You liked the thought of it weeping above you
And all I can say, in predictable cliche,
Is, God, how much I love you.

I stare
at the topaz clouds,
damasking heavens constant eye,
Wondering as I'm watching you
If you are watching I.
For now, I want to believe--
People always do, when they grieve.

Your epitaph,
emblazoned in appropriate Catholicism:
Words describing an everyman.
It doesn’t matter to me,
For you are inscribed on my soul.


[n/a] Mr Pig @ 195.92.168.167 > <~> | 19-Aug-03/3:49 PM | Reply
I am taking your advice and I thank you for your careful eye.
[n/a] Mr Pig @ 195.92.168.167 > <~> | 19-Aug-03/3:52 PM | Reply
Any thoughts Ms Z?
[n/a] <~> @ 68.63.97.120 > Mr Pig | 19-Aug-03/5:28 PM | Reply
i like this very much, pig. some lovely moments, here.
favorites:

its immortalized syntax

fragrant colors are riot

And all I can say, in predictable cliche,
Is, God, how much I love you

topaz clouds,
damasking heaven's constant eye [oops--you need an apostrophe in heaven's]

emblazoned in appropriate Catholicism

the only part i am so/so on is "For you are inscribed on my soul." agh. whenever someone brings up 'soul' in a love and loss poem, it sounds cliched. unless handled with delicate mastery. i dare not do it myself for another 3 decades. think of all that i must learn and unlearn before i turn that phrase! and besides, you deftly dispensed with cliche in the preceding stanzas. so, what can you do about it?

i don't know.

beautiful work, pig.

[10] Bachus @ 24.126.113.154 | 19-Aug-03/7:42 PM | Reply
Gilameshtic
[9] Joe-joe @ 170.28.4.4 | 20-Aug-03/3:56 AM | Reply
Mr. Pig,

Really nice work. There is some good work on this site but many times I am left untouched by pieces that are well crafted but without real meaning. This work hit home in a powerful way. I really enjoyed reading it. Joe.

P.S As usual, I think Z was right on the mark with her comments. She's a serious and classy lady isn't she?
[n/a] Mr Pig @ 195.92.168.166 > Joe-joe | 20-Aug-03/5:01 AM | Reply
She's too classy for this site my young fry thats for sure. But yes she is an artform of feminine beauty. (I wouldn't like to cross her though sunshine)
[7] Jill Stockinger @ 127.0.0.1 | 27-Dec-20/3:54 PM | Reply
poorly said: "fragrant colors are riot near"
I most enjoyed the first 2 stanzas and the last one.
The poem captures strong emotion.
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