Low Note

Life

is like listening

to a changeable song,

the meaning of which

you can only guess at,

and debate heatedly

at small tables

in those early, whisky-bleared hours

while smouldering corpses fill

the shallow glass murk

of an overcrowded cemetery.

 

Author's Note

It's murmuring and intense in my head, but is that the mood it created for you, or did I miss a beat?
Do the metaphors work ok?
Thanks.

Reviews

[aponijose]

So true. I know that this may be out of point but, this reminds me of the things I read on Youtube.

A couple of months ago, we were asked to do this assignment that required me to get some videos from that site and make a montage. Now most of the videos I had to get were that of soldiers during the war in Iraq. It was really heartbreaking when I read the comments that were written there. Whether some people were pro or against the war, it's really sad how some people could easily pass judgement and call something evil or how easily they could thinks so much less of the lives of others - Islam, Christian, whatever. And it somewhat pisses me of because people like us, we put so much care in the use of words... it's as if what we say could make or break the world... and these people, they just take it for granted (with such bad grammar by the way.) I guess it just tends to get to you when you think of how those soldiers from both sides would fell knowing that they are being talked about like this considering what they are going through.

(Sorry about that.)

Anyway, I like this piece because you were able to place such a powerful notion in such a small space. I wish I have the wisdom and the reserve it takes to do such deductions because seriously, I sometimes lose the scientific factor in my poetry. Not that I'm saying that yours is just full of it.

Personally, I think that it's a perfect balance of the art and science of words that makes it worth the read. It gets to you and gives you that degree of empathy and apathy along with thoughtful sense of urgency.

Good job.

[Tony]

Yes, they work, and God, do i hate it.

[Jd Young]

You know, I find this piece to be very intense and it weighs heavily on my mind. You are right, life is like a song. It constantly changes and we never know what we are going to get ourselves into. I loved the graveyard comparison as well. It seems that no matter what goes on around us, we are so aught up in our world that we never really see the change. It just happens, we can't avoid it or stop it. I agree with the featured review.

For such a small piece, it's very engaging and I feel so much.
Good Write.

[Collette]

Nothing like some booze and a pack of cigarettes to spark existential conversation. I feel this for sure. The layering of metaphores and meanings makes it a refreshing read. There really isn't anything I can pin-point within this that needs changing. The word Life at the top just sort of hangs there, yet, I don't think it should be connected anywhere else. It's one of those points that needs the full emphasis of a line, free-standing and alone. Either way, I dig your concept, and I dig the flow. You kept it within the context of where it needed to be, and it really hit me on a personal level. Thanks for sharing!

[Hedra Helix]

to me, this is the beating heart:

Life

is like listening

to a changeable song,

the meaning of which

you can only guess at,

and debate heatedly

at small tables

-and boy is it a heart.


the rest of it is an interesting metaphor but it takes you out on an extra journey IMHO (into the cold morning streets, to that cemetary) to figure additional meaning
rather than being settled with the commonality and cozy vibe of looking across that table with your companions of thought. Which may be enough. After all, going inward we are each of us endless.

[James Horsley]

Very intense indeed. You've said just enough to make a point without getting to lofty with the theme; that seems to be a specialty of yours.

[JP thinks the WC is apt..]

Nicholas recognised something of T.S Eliot in this, which is exactly what came to my mind..."the muttering retreats of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels,' and so on and so forth. There's a musty, Dickensian sort of aura to this piece. And the contarst between life being unfathomable and death at the end is striking. Is death to be found at the bottom of the glass or am I reading too much into it. Either way, it's an atmospheric piece.

[The Tao of Bri]

I loved this one haunting truth!

[Nicholas Hallows]

Definitely murmuring, in the same way T.S. Eliot murmurs. I really liked this poem.
It does create a mood of late-night contemplation in murky and smoky rooms in the whisky-bleared hours.
I like short pieces that create such atmosphere, but in a way I wanted this to be longer because I felt it was setting the scene for something bigger. What's bigger than life and death? I don't know. I just loved it and didn't really want it to stop. But then that's always a good way to leave your reader.
Great stuff!
NH

[Gary H]

The one thing that struck me about reading this is the colour. I'm overcome with a shade of brown, the pub is dark brown, the band play through a smog of greying smoke turning the curtains brown, the saxophone has lost it's sheen, the whiskey, the table, the bar stools and finally the colour of the earth as it falls over the dead - all brown.
Oh, yeah, the metaphors work and the poem leads me to perfect pictures.

[J.P. Bristow]

"in those early, whisky-bleared hours"...I could feel this line..well done.