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the death of poulenc


the clouds played in color
and he was the finger, slick
with canaries and mines
              sans adoucir.


repentance
always tasted like the thief
and his fistfuls of orchids,
which he pressed to his breast
to warn -
he could not be silent
anymore than the blind man
could see red;


                    they pull
                    and pull and pull,
                    these ropes
                    which tie his throat back
                    like hunger.

                    for loss comes très net,
                    the flesh
                    of once-lover





~

"céder un peu,"
said the lion to the lamb,
"and I will teach you to feast
upon sun."






                              le tombeau de Francis Poulenc.











Author notes

"sans adoucir": without softening
"très net": very dead
"céder un peu": give in a little
"le tombeau de Francis Poulenc": the tomb of F.P.

poulenc's brilliance really is not appreciated enough.
all french phrases were taken directly from instructions he gave in his original scores, except for the last one, which is a twist on a piece he once adapted.


listen to his stuff.

A contest entry

critique.

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Comments

1 - 9 of 9
  • Melissa Gayle gold member
    April 6, 2008
    Edit | Reply
    Excellent piece of writing.


  • lalaland024
    April 3, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    it's refreshing to see some french in here and nice to read. i really like this, has a lot of meaning and draws you in-
    thanks for entering

  • obfuscate
    April 2, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    Je l'aime, je l'aime, je l'aime. Ecris plus, Suna! Je lirai tout, si les poesies ont le francais dans eux.

    Ca, c'est jolie.


    • autarky
      April 2, 2008
      Edit | Reply
      now that is just awful of you. time to babelfish.


  • grassisgreener
    April 2, 2008
    Edit | Reply
    due to my current braindead state, i will return at a later time to comment. in the meantime,


  • porksnorkel
    April 2, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    It's news to me.

    But I love the poem, even if it dances a bit too much visually for my taste. There is a beauty in the mysterious brevity which is quite poetic, mostly due to your apparently tight hold on the reins, which is unusual to see around here among anyone, regardless of age.

    Well done.


  • dp robertson
    April 2, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    well well well, who are you? Poulenc, openly gay, infinitely fascinating and musically brilliant. The best doctoral work on him is by Elizabeth Scarlett- it’s a gem. Speaking of gem this is a great piece and for not having read you before a pleasant surprise. I will read more if this is going to be the quality


  • seraphim shock
    April 1, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    i love the french. but then, you know me.

    by the way, i think tres mort is very dead, not tres net. net is colloquial if anything.

    brilliant.


    • autarky
      April 2, 2008
      Edit | Reply
      yeah, love, i babelfish-ed "the death of poulenc" and got "la morte de poulenc" or something like that and i wondered why babelfish also said "net" meant dead. and i also wondered why poulenc would tell the pianist in question to play "very dead"...

      but then, you know me,
      and my extensive knowledge of french. xD

1 - 9 of 9