I.
the earth is shaking out of its sphere
from the heavy thud thud thud stop
thud of soldiers’ boots on the streets
of paris, guns in hand, but what in
their minds? i don’t think anything.
II.
my hometown is a pile of ashes in a
world of jungles that, still in their glory,
are untouched by the billions of thirsty
little souls crying for some pity – any
pity, yes, any pity will do! it’s my world.
i bought it cheap from a man who didn’t
want it any more and who was given it
as a favour in return for ready smiles.
his predecessor found a piece of fool’s
gold on the sidewalk and forgot that it
was ever there.
III.
i have no idea, i told him the night our
love sold us cheap to the fools. jericho,
my dear jericho, they will destroy you.
i wonder if you know that they will, but
they will, they will! they own naught but
some vicious will, some vicious drive to
kill, to murder, to take gold and pearls
and jewels. oh god, i paid for that which
i own – and jericho, when they storm the
walls and bury their grimy old hands in
your chest to find that glowing heart of
rubies they know is yours, the core of any
life, do not let them take it. let them not
take you, my jericho, my love.
IV.
jericho, i never had much to say or
much to tell but warn of the obliteration
they will now cherish as their ideal, their
goal and reward. jericho, my dear paris is
burning; the smoky haze of the night’s
dreadful promise litters the air, choking
the life out of every man, every living
being. please don’t go outside, my dear,
i prefer you intact and i prefer you alive.
V.
do you see it now? the skies of paris are
alight with haze and right about now,
yes, just this hour, we know why mona
lisa smiles. she knew this all along, did
she not, my jericho? she knew we were
to die this way, smugly mocking us. ‘mona
is in love’ said the stupid fat tourist, ‘she’s
hiding it from us because she loves him.’
well, we’re in the same boat now, aren’t
we? but i never laughed, never wanted to
mock my love, my life, my days numbered
on the fading calendar hanging in my kitchen.
mona lisa is a bitch but at least she
knows, at least she’s just a goddamned
painting; she will not feel the flames
consuming her spirit and her face.
VI.
mona will go with the saints and i will
remain with the sinners and with you,
my jericho. flames pour forth from
the building across the way – this is
the end, this is the final song we will
hear – the sound of thud thudding
soldiers marching for dead glory and
to their deaths in the sea waiting deep
below. i wonder, will they sing as they
float like poor ophelia, waiting for that
watery grave? or no, no; we do not
permit songs for the dying, nor elegies,
nor idyllic recollections of them. and of
us, i cannot say.
VII.
i wish i could, i wish i might sing you
to sleep. i wish i might know again that
burning fervour for being alive; we have
every reason to feel it now, do we not?
i am antigone, faithful to my end, your end,
the end of a dream too godforsaken to
loathe. jericho, i lived, i breathed! i would
have them say you loved the world and
fought for its dream, but, in a few short
hours, there will be no one left to say it.
the fire will take everything. fire is
passion, fire is ardour, but tonight i
fear fire will make you and i a feast
for the furies.
VIII.
an hour! i think i am faustus; think you
on his last hour! he cried out in pain so
loud, so resonant as if he plucked out the
strings of his heart to make one last song,
one last ballad, one final plea for his life
and his love of it. i like marlowe, jericho.
i remember the café, the awkward talk of
your journey to paris, your love of art;
the way you spoke was like that of an
ancient orator, not a boy of eighteen. i…
oh, jericho, i loved you then; i am merely
seventeen, but, jericho, this land is ours,
and this love could never belong to men
who loathe, but only could belong to us,
my love, the faithful antigone, the roman
orator and jericho, jericho, i fear you will
not escape mephistopheles, who will tear
your ashes to shreds, or at least try.
IX.
i want to save you and i want to save
myself, and i need to save this secret of
mine and yours. jericho, the life i carry
in this frail body is yours, mine ours, but
we will all die – at least we will die together
in this godforsaken apartment so old, so
creaky, so filthy, but it is ours. we can say
so about ourselves, you, me, our child – and
our child! i would have raised him to be
a man, a prometheus who could guard his
heart from vultures and burn our enemies’
fire with his own, if only i could escape this
night, this knowing, unimpressive death
that will come for us all. i cannot cry or
scream or want this repulsive gloom; i
need the glory and the lives of nearly
faded lives pulsing through my veins to
nourish this child. i wish for the world, but
it cannot be; the ancients spoke of god’s
wrath and armageddon and satan’s reign,
but satan came with an army of brutes
and stolen chariots of fire. did prometheus
not steal fire, too? they are hypocrites
and liars.
X.
my love, my love, i am afraid of it – not
death, but the split second before the pain
arrives, when i will feel the scorching hot
flames engulfing my body in its silent,
mindless rage – but jericho, jericho, before
that we had our own fire, our own passion!
it is the spirit of an ancient world that bore
me to this summit on wings of conflagration,
singing songs of a time no man remembers.
XI.
yes, cristina held jericho in her arms the
night they died; no sound issued from their
smoke-filled lungs, only pained breaths and
somewhere, somehow, a faint melody, a
song of incredible innocence, rose from their
lungs, hearts, and souls together in final protest
of the monster that thought to slay the spirit
of man. we had life in us, we still do, if just
for five minutes more.
XII.
don’t cry for me; souls are nothing new. i
promise, my dear, in times past i will appear
in robes of magnificent silk the colour of a
blue-green mediterranean sky. i see atlantis
though my body burns, but the flames rise -
oh god, jericho, they tore down your walls
at last. i have no walls. I never believed in
walls or covering my eyes when i passed by
the newsstand displaying headlines meant to
instil fear, and i never cried hearing of the terror
plaguing iraq.
XIII.
iran from iraq as you once said; i ran from
so much, but not you, jericho, not life. it
once existed -- it still does – it always will,
or so i hope. you know, jen once said the
spirit of the world lived in me; so much
lives in me but soon, too soon, the devil
will dance in our ashes. soon no life will
quicken inside me, no dream will inspire
a song, a poem, a heart-plucking ballad;
no elegy will be said for us, for our lives,
our hopes, our dreams. the walls of jericho,
the towers in which cristina saw the stars,
the monument i would have built for our
child in the style of an eleanor cross – all
fallen, all trampled by the thud thudding
boots of soldiers.
XIV.
and we burn, my love, i never thought i
would tell you so. i was so afraid then and
i was so terribly fearful of what you were
and of what i am. i am the world; you are all
the little stars i saw from my imaginary castle
as a child – oh, jericho, down come the walls
but up comes the fire of my final thought: i
loved you, jericho, and i would not trade this
moment for another. it lived, it lived, it lived,
i swear it did! walls do not last forever and
men do not last, but their spirits do in some
song i sing, some praise long dead, some cry
heard only by the midnight hour that claims us
but cannot own the spirit that was ours.
XV.
down, down fall the walls of jericho –
someday, maybe somehow, i will rebuild
them as antigone dressed in silk and velvet
and lace with you, my dear, as antony in a
coronet of bright yellow blossoms, reciting
an elegy for jericho and cristina, who lived.
Author notes
Best prewrite.
A contest entry
- Im bored and lonely and wanna make some AP friends. by shadow-of-the-sun.
300 points, ended May 21, 2007, 26 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - The very, very best. (I mean it.) by Profesh.
875 points, ended October 3, 2007, 56 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - I challenge you by Ilma.
800 points, ended August 2, 2007, 26 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 17 of 17
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wow
its really long haha
but very interesting and excellent
great job hunny -
wow! very long yet you kept my interest throughout the whole piece! I liked how you numbered the stanzas...the trophies this piece won are definitely well deserved!! Thank you so much for entering! Excellent work and the best of luck in my contest!!!
-Steve- -
very long piece, you impressed me
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"XIII.
iran from iraq as you once said; i ran from
so much, but not you, jericho, not life. it
once existed -- it still does – it always will,
or so i hope. you know, jen once said the
spirit of the world lived in me; so much
lives in me but soon, too soon, the devil
will dance in our ashes. soon no life will
quicken inside me, no dream will inspire
a song, a poem, a heart-plucking ballad;
no elegy will be said for us, for our lives,
our hopes, our dreams. the walls of jericho,
the towers in which cristina saw the stars,
the monument i would have built for our
child in the style of an eleanor cross – all
fallen, all trampled by the thud thudding
boots of soldiers."
love it -
wow, this is a great poem, also very long. i liked that how you used so many literary devices, it was most enjoyable to read! great write & best of luck!
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Very very long, but well worth it. I havent come across many part poems yet, but I did really enjoy this one. It was very well written, I particularly liked parts 4 and 5 and some others with big numbers.. hehe, very good striking write, best of luck
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it's going to take a while to read this, so i'll be back to comment
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First, I would like to apologize for the amount of time it has taken, since the first viewing of this piece by the judges, for you to recieve a comment. That sort of wait is very a-typical of this contest and the image we would like to present. The reason why it took so long was because I was waiting to hear back from our rules enforcement divison (Raven REO) to see whether this piece is premissable, contest rules wise, or not.
Unfortunately, the REO panel has found that this piece is in violation of contest rule RCR 5.3, which prohibits the entry of short stories and is available for your reference via the link from the contest page or from the Allpoetry name Raven Contest. To substantiate their decision the REOs stated that they found no specific meanings in the line breaks of the piece and that, therefore, it constitutes prose instead of poetry.
I say "unfortunately" because I really liked this piece. I felt that you crafted vivid images within the text; especially including the reference to Mona Lisa's coy know-it-all expression and the "imaginary castle" in section 14. I felt that the "thud thudding" found in early in the entry set forth a definative word-sound that is pretty rare within the scope of (at least) the submissions I have read thus for for the contest.
Despite all of that however, I can find no reason within the lines of this entry to disagree with the REOs decision. It seems that you have entered an articulate, intelligent, formidable short story. Were this a prose contest I am sure you would do very well. Sadly, it is not, and the few rules that exist to limit entries do so to qualify authors in a specific genre of writing.
Odds are, like most entrants, you just never actually read all the rules. That's fine, there is nothing saying you have to. But, if you did, or if you wish to dispute the REOs findings, you can do so by sending a request to ravencontest@comcast.net.
If you don't want to go down that road but still want to be involved in the contest, I suggest you remove this entry and submit a different one. I hope you decide to do so since I'd like to see someone with your talent do well here.
Thank you for your patience.
~Das -
kool story within!!
Great write!! Love it all...
Thanks alot for entering my contest & best of luck
GloriousGift
Heba -
This name caught my attention. Have a granddaughter called Jherrico. Know that's an odd name these days, have not heard of anyone else by that name so far - she's nearly 9. Liked the metaphoric write you have shared here. That prose poetry that seems to be so in these days - don't see much of it though on this site. Great golden winner - way to go.
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What an absolutley fabulous poem. Loved the story it tells. You have done a great job!
Good luck in the contest. -
Wow and I get accused of writing Long poems I have to confess this beats me. and I dont mind long poetry.
This was a well written piece. I enjoyed reading it very much.
I thank you for entering my contest.
And wish you the best of Luck. -
what part of family would you liek to be?
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er... how about your brother-in-law's cat?
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thats all that guy couldve have said about this? (im referring to the comment below) this is an amazing peice!! i imagine that when you finished this, it took alot out of you. i have written along poetic story before, but it pales in comparison to this. never have i been so engrossed in poetry as i have when i read this. the last time i was, i was rading an american prayer by jim morrison. and i have to say, alot of your writing bears some resemblance to his style. you truely are an accomplished writer and i am honoured to have been able to experience such talent. best of luck in the contest and i look forward to future conversations with you.
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I'll have to check out Jim Morrison, then. I haven't read any of his work, and I'm always eager for new stuff to read.
And this comment made me go squee. A lot. Thank you!
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A very poingiant line here, might I suggest added the word twice to double emphasize it.
"i paid (twice) for that which
i own"
-Eddy
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