Come down, little birdies, come, little sparrows,
bring your white capped heads down into the snow
and interest your wing-tips in the blizzard.
Bring with you, please, flitting bits of gaiety
in your songs and chirpings—bear some red joy
down on these schoolboys’ bluish cheeks,
these boys who have come bury breadcrumbs,
breadcrumbs with my son.
Come down, little birdies, come, little sparrows,
perch on these Orthodox stones, in penitent rows—
perhaps, could you clean the snowflakes away?
Away with your black beaks, away, away, away
from the frozen white flowers in his frail dead hands,
as much like marble and ivory as the finest of things
he never saw—those things he failed to live until.
Come down, little birdies, come, little sparrows,
I’ll leave breadcrumbs to entice you not to go
to warmer shelters, to keep him company,
to dine tonight over my poor dead son.
Ilyusha’s Funeral
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Gidday
A very moving poem. I thought it could pass as song lyrics.
I had a couple of minor questions:
Sparrows with white heads? (probably not important - just brown and black here)
bear some red joy
down on these schoolboys’ bluish cheeks
When I read this, I thought it was going in a much different direction - as in red blood.
... the finest of things
he never saw—those things he failed to live until.
I puzzled ove this line for quite a while before "getting" it. It seems a little awkward. But it is a difficult thing to put into words.
Overall though, I really liked this. A totally different feel to anything else of yours I've read, nonetheless.
Cheers
Dave
A very moving poem. I thought it could pass as song lyrics.
I had a couple of minor questions:
Sparrows with white heads? (probably not important - just brown and black here)
bear some red joy
down on these schoolboys’ bluish cheeks
When I read this, I thought it was going in a much different direction - as in red blood.
... the finest of things
he never saw—those things he failed to live until.
I puzzled ove this line for quite a while before "getting" it. It seems a little awkward. But it is a difficult thing to put into words.
Overall though, I really liked this. A totally different feel to anything else of yours I've read, nonetheless.
Cheers
Dave
Cheers
Dave
"And I'm lost, and I'm lost
I'm lost at the bottom of the world
I'm handcuffed to the bishop and the barbershop liar
I'm lost at the bottom of the world
" [Tom]
Dave
"And I'm lost, and I'm lost
I'm lost at the bottom of the world
I'm handcuffed to the bishop and the barbershop liar
I'm lost at the bottom of the world
" [Tom]
- twoleftfeet
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Keith,
I agree with Kozmik - a very moving poem.
Breadcrumbs? Is this some kind of tradition among certain peoples?
(Ilyusha? - sounds Russian-ish....)
"as much like marble and ivory as the finest of things
he never saw—those things he failed to live until."
- "to live until" is a brilliant construction.
Possibly "sights" would be more logical than "things", though.
My only quibble is in verse 2 line 4 - away with all those aways, I say!
Plaudits
Geoff
I agree with Kozmik - a very moving poem.
Breadcrumbs? Is this some kind of tradition among certain peoples?
(Ilyusha? - sounds Russian-ish....)
"as much like marble and ivory as the finest of things
he never saw—those things he failed to live until."
- "to live until" is a brilliant construction.
Possibly "sights" would be more logical than "things", though.
My only quibble is in verse 2 line 4 - away with all those aways, I say!
Plaudits
Geoff
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Echoes of the grief of Lear.
If you are looking for a fascinating subject to write about, examine the details of your own life.
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It's the grief of Captain Snegirev, from The Brothers Karamazov. The breadcrumbs were his son's last request: to scatter them over his grave and call the sparrows to keep him company.
This is just great Keith. Superb.
I don't want to say anything else.
Except (there's always an except with me) - it reminded me of Ben Jonson's "On My First Son". There is no higher praise. If you don't know it, it's here: http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/jonson/son.htm
As the father of a son myself, I've always found it almost unbearably moving. This comes pretty close, which amazes me. (As an occasional reader of Russian fiction, I think you got that tone right too.)
Back with a bang - and then some.
Cheers
David
I don't want to say anything else.
Except (there's always an except with me) - it reminded me of Ben Jonson's "On My First Son". There is no higher praise. If you don't know it, it's here: http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/jonson/son.htm
As the father of a son myself, I've always found it almost unbearably moving. This comes pretty close, which amazes me. (As an occasional reader of Russian fiction, I think you got that tone right too.)
Back with a bang - and then some.
Cheers
David
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Keith
I thought the "away, away, away" should go too. I realise it was (probably) to represent the repetitive pecking, but it seems to interfere with the flow.
Great poem though
Mick
I thought the "away, away, away" should go too. I realise it was (probably) to represent the repetitive pecking, but it seems to interfere with the flow.
Great poem though
Mick
- camus
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I liked the questioning/pleading tone, plus some great turns of phrase:
"interest your wing-tips in the blizzard"
"bear some red joy
down on these schoolboys’ bluish cheeks"
I'll stop, there are more, most of the poem really, fine return to form as they say.
The buts:
I found "Little birdies" a wee too twee, I realise the context in which it was used, just didn't like it much.
"flitting bits of gaiety" the "bits" seems a little slack?
Them aside, grand.
- Just saw your comment Keith - Grand idea to take a section from a book and write a poem about it!
Believe it or not, I am presently reading The Brothers Karamazov - it's a slow read though, hasn't caught me like Crime and Punishment did. I'm at the very early stage where whatshisface is (the dad) is making a tit of himself at the monastery... ...
Now that's a review!
"interest your wing-tips in the blizzard"
"bear some red joy
down on these schoolboys’ bluish cheeks"
I'll stop, there are more, most of the poem really, fine return to form as they say.
The buts:
I found "Little birdies" a wee too twee, I realise the context in which it was used, just didn't like it much.
"flitting bits of gaiety" the "bits" seems a little slack?
Them aside, grand.
- Just saw your comment Keith - Grand idea to take a section from a book and write a poem about it!
Believe it or not, I am presently reading The Brothers Karamazov - it's a slow read though, hasn't caught me like Crime and Punishment did. I'm at the very early stage where whatshisface is (the dad) is making a tit of himself at the monastery... ...
Now that's a review!
http://www.closetpoet.co.uk
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Well, I'm sorry I gave away (away away) a bit of the story...
Dunno, I actually liked the tone of The Brothers Karamazov more than Crime and Punishment. Stick with it, as you know, Russian writers wax a bit long sometimes but in this case it's very much worth it.
Glad you dug it. I'll think about the aways, but the little birdies have to stay as that is a direct quote (the whole line is, actually).
Cheers,
Keith
Dunno, I actually liked the tone of The Brothers Karamazov more than Crime and Punishment. Stick with it, as you know, Russian writers wax a bit long sometimes but in this case it's very much worth it.
Glad you dug it. I'll think about the aways, but the little birdies have to stay as that is a direct quote (the whole line is, actually).
Cheers,
Keith