"The Funeral" by Erik Werenskiold A Sonnet on Death, by Charlie Bauer The Society February 28, 2020 Beauty, Culture, Poetry 4 Comments 20 January 2020 My father died, just yesterday, and mom About a year ago; I’m filled with grief For things that were not, might have been, and now Will never be. I’d felt that death would spare My heart—at most I’d shed some tears—but oh! The pain of what had never been rips through Defenses thought well built and strips away Illusions that I’d held. Dear God, my mind Is wracked by questions! Are they safe? In what State do they now endure? What truth explains The pain of life and why do we exist? Our best seems hardly good enough for this. Oh God, I know that you know best; forgive My doubts on life that first must die to live. Charlie Bauer resides in Chapel Hill, NC and is a salesman for a commercial carpet manufacturer. NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary. CODEC Stories:Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 4 Responses David O'Neil February 28, 2020 The form and meaning come together nicely in this poem. While the poet reflects on his grief and doubt, the enjambment accentuates a feeling of brokenness. And the introduction of rhyme at the closing brings a sense of resolution, or perhaps resignation. I do have one minor critique. In the third quatrain, the use of the word “do” is somewhat unidiomatic: “What truth explains… why do we exist.” I assume the word is there for the sake of the meter. Maybe “why we should exist” would work?? Reply James A. Tweedie February 28, 2020 David, Well-formed and well expressed. Feelings–unanticipated feelings–similar to mine when my own father died some years ago. Your closing line echoes not only scripture but Eliot’s reflective words, “And that, to be restored, our sickness must grow worse.” Reply Patsy March 1, 2020 Really like this. The the guilt and uncertainty of the past and for the future we feel for ourselves when we lose someone. Strange old thing death. Reply Monty March 3, 2020 Nice stuff, Charlie: a poem about grief seemingly straight from the horses mouth; containing some of the unanswerable questions that a death sometimes poses. I agree with David about the word ‘do’. I think you could get away with keeping it if you inserted a semi-colon: What truth explains the pain of death; and why do we exist? I feel that the two parts of the sentence need that separation. Alternatively, you could dispense with the ‘do’ and have: What truth explains the pain of death, and why we all exist? Reply Leave a Reply to Patsy Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Captcha loading...In order to pass the CAPTCHA please enable JavaScript. Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
David O'Neil February 28, 2020 The form and meaning come together nicely in this poem. While the poet reflects on his grief and doubt, the enjambment accentuates a feeling of brokenness. And the introduction of rhyme at the closing brings a sense of resolution, or perhaps resignation. I do have one minor critique. In the third quatrain, the use of the word “do” is somewhat unidiomatic: “What truth explains… why do we exist.” I assume the word is there for the sake of the meter. Maybe “why we should exist” would work?? Reply
James A. Tweedie February 28, 2020 David, Well-formed and well expressed. Feelings–unanticipated feelings–similar to mine when my own father died some years ago. Your closing line echoes not only scripture but Eliot’s reflective words, “And that, to be restored, our sickness must grow worse.” Reply
Patsy March 1, 2020 Really like this. The the guilt and uncertainty of the past and for the future we feel for ourselves when we lose someone. Strange old thing death. Reply
Monty March 3, 2020 Nice stuff, Charlie: a poem about grief seemingly straight from the horses mouth; containing some of the unanswerable questions that a death sometimes poses. I agree with David about the word ‘do’. I think you could get away with keeping it if you inserted a semi-colon: What truth explains the pain of death; and why do we exist? I feel that the two parts of the sentence need that separation. Alternatively, you could dispense with the ‘do’ and have: What truth explains the pain of death, and why we all exist? Reply
