This is an unfinished poem I've been working on. It's inspired by Edgar Allen Poe and it's quite depressing but I'm aiming for a really powerful effect. Please comment and tell me what you think!
The screaming. You should hear it.
She hears voices. In her mind. And they are not mere ghosts of her weathered memory. They are the cries of those whose identity is unknown to even she.
And so she breaks, and screams. They are the screams of a soul that has endured the torment of long, silent imprisonment.
Her agonised shrieks pierce the still silence of every night. I lie in the room beside her and stare at the plain roof. I cannot sleep. I will never sleep peacefully again. Not knowing that she is in unbearable pain.
And yet. I cannot help. I am useless. So now I must endure a torture of my own.
What would I do if I could reach her? Kill her? End the suffering?
No. I would likely just join her. Scream at the prospect of having a load on my shoulders that I am too weak to bear.
On the night that marks the first year since the hours of darkness in which the screaming began, I lie down to rest. If that’s what it can be called. I take a deep breath and prepare for another disturbed night…
Here's a classic Poe poem. The language is lyrical and beautiful. It is not only a piece about a lute, or trumpet-playing angel, who seduced all the heaven and earth with his music, but a sombre reflection of how humanity/reality can seep into our lives and infect the beauty of the music of OUR lives.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, enjoy...
ISRAFEL
In Heaven a spirit doth dwell
"Whose heart-strings are a lute";
None sing so wildly well
As the angel Israfel,
And the giddy stars (so legends tell),
Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell
Of his voice, all mute.
Tottering above
In her highest noon,
The enamored moon
Blushes with love,
While, to listen, the red levin
(With the rapid Pleiads, even,
Which were seven,)
Pauses in Heaven.
And they say (the starry choir
And the other listening things)
That Israfeli's fire
Is owing to that lyre
By which he sits and sings-
The trembling living wire
Of those unusual strings.
But the skies that angel trod,
Where deep thoughts are a duty-
Where Love's a grown-up God-
Where the Houri glances are
Imbued with all the beauty
Which we worship in a star.
Therefore thou art not wrong,
Israfeli, who despisest
An unimpassioned song;
To thee the laurels belong,
Best bard, because the wisest!
Merrily live, and long!
The ecstasies above
With thy burning measures suit-
Thy grief, thy joy, thy hate, thy love,
With the fervor of thy lute-
Well may the stars be mute!
Yes, Heaven is thine; but this
Is a world of sweets and sours;
Our flowers are merely- flowers,
And the shadow of thy perfect bliss
Is the sunshine of ours.
If I could dwell
Where Israfel
Hath dwelt, and he where I,
He might not sing so wildly well
A mortal melody,
While a bolder note than this might swell
From my lyre within the sky.
I really like it and i can see the Poe features in it. You were right, it is quite depressing but also powerful. I think you achieved what you aimed for
ReplyDeletebree, thats amazing.
ReplyDeletewell done, i'm extremely impressed.
:)
Very descriptive and captivating writing. Extremely good use of language and i really enjoyed reading it =) You are to be congratulated on this effort. Can't wait to read more
ReplyDeleteRight up my alley Bree. I think it's fantastic.
ReplyDeletethat's really good bree. Depressing, but powerful, the imagery is very strong, and it pulls at heartstrings and makes the reader wonder what is causing the screaming.
ReplyDeleteWELL DONE :)