Do you hear the dead man? – for dVerse


Do you ever hear
behind you — empty echoes
of the dead man’s careful gait?
Do you ever hear
his wheezing whimpering for faults of his,
that you’ve copied faithfully?
Do you ever hear
the dead man’s soundless cries at night
begging you to stray a little while?
To make it different from him.
To cut yourself another path
through brambles (that he left for you).

Do you ever hear
the dead man singing?
in the oak-tree’s falling leaves;
in the winter’s icicle formation;
in late November’s sleeplessness
begging you to change.
Do you ever hear
the dead man’s heartbeats
racing with your own?
Playing timpani on rusting
skeletons of dying cars.

Did you ever hear
the dead man’s sighing
before you realized
it was your
faltering in final gasps.

DSC_0615
Today Grace has us to write a poem at dVerse poetics from the perspective of the dead man. My attempt is about he dead man trying in vain the errors he had done from being repeated.
Pub opens at 3 PM EST. Join us and read excellent poetry.

November 4, 2014

32 responses to “Do you hear the dead man? – for dVerse

  1. nice…love that the deadman hopes we do not follow his ways…perhaps he hopes a bit better for us than he….nice close on this as well…realizing it was us, right before….

  2. I liked “Do you ever hear the dead man’s heartbeat racing with your own?” First of all, interesting that the dead man has a heartbeat; and then I can definitely feel the idea of dead man’s heartbeat racing with the heartbeat of the living….on both sides of the great divide. Quite eerie to consider the parallels between the dead and the living!

  3. Your dead man sounds very personal and I would not like to have to walk in a dark forest at night soon for fear I would feel him next to me and might hear his heart beat or his sighing.

  4. oh that gave me shivers a bit björn… esp. in the close when it becomes clear that it is one and the same person… heavily emotional

  5. Spooky good, & the refrain works like crazy, B.–just adore it when you dig deep into free verse, beating down fear, flapping growing wings; love the lines /playing timpani on rusting/skeletons of dying cars/. The image you chose is bang on, reminding me of many I have taken.

  6. The presence of dead man – Oh you have sketched it wonderfully, the silent cry, the whisper, heartbeat – could almost felt it and really enjoyed the close.

  7. This reminds me of the strangest panic attack i ever had.. and i guess the first one i ever had.. before they stopped TG.. after less than five.. 7 long years ago now…

    to truly FEEL one isTAKING one’s LAST GASP OF AIR.. AND to truly FEEL THE LOSS OF ALL one knows.. if one has experienced something similar…

    is well.. beyond words.. and that’s for sure…

    And then there’s the darker side..

    when life is so much worse than death…

    and i suppose when one gets over that.. that is more freeing than any experience.. i at least can imagine.. as the value of life.. is finally felt
    more than anything else…

  8. Yes. I do. And your poem is an eye-opener. You picked the perfect details, rhythm, repetitions, and mood. Mine would be my grandmother, whose taunts are often how she did more and better, but then, in the end, the “You are just like your grandmother” has become reality. I hope I am more humble and happier even if I am not as great. She was awesome. I learned years ago from Stephen Levine, to invite those vocal ghosts over for tea.

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