The poet-lover's horror of the dawn has been bugging me - especially since there have been several excellent pieces on the idea recently (Brett, Veronica, Josie).
To my naive amazement, I've discovered a fancy term for it! 'Aubade'.
"Have you ever wished an alarm clock wouldn't ring, or that your lover didn't have to go to work? That is the spirit of the aubade!" [a quote from Brian McDonald on 'How to write an aubade' on 'HOW TO DO THINGS.COM]
And more amazing for me, the ultimate example from the Bard in 'Romeo and Juliet:
'Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day:
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear.'
Phwoooooh!
Here is my humble effort below . . .
Comments welcome, as ever!
And more contributions to the theme please! It (the theme) is a stonking tear-jerker, and more besides!
Cheers!
Beardless John! X
Aubade for Borrowed Time
Gentle waves of dawn beset my sleep,
unwelcome cruel shafts of day
grow sharper, piercing memories
of you who were all things to me,
who now are gone, all gone from me.
No longer shall I wake with you,
where once we claimed our holy night.
I wait for nothing – loving gone,
yet still I dream that we just might
weave our souls together, now
cancel time and stop the clock
ticking through our borrowed time,
until we answer his last knock.
I'll wait until it’s time to go,
to journey through life’s final sleep,
to wake at last with heaven’s hand
on us. And you and I? Our love to keep.
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Written by Josie (2844 comments posted) 30th June 2008 | John, your abade is really excellent. These are particularly sad words: "of you who were all things to me,
who now are gone, all gone from me," for everybody must feel like this at times. We all long to have just one chance more to say the things we should have said, but didn't. Death separates us, often, from this. But, as I said in my poem, the clock doesn't stop until death and it ticks at the same pace, though, perceived it doesn't. The most miserable of all poets for me is Philip Larkin. Surely he had the need of a psychiatrist, ha ha. Do read his Abade: http://jrong.tripod.com/aubade.html We see some miserable poems on GW for sure, but could they be more miserable than this? Excellent John.
| Thanks Josie!
Written by Katanga (1497 comments posted) 1st July 2008 | The two sad lines that you pick out are, yes, sad, but also sadly clumsy, I feel.
I repeat 'me' as the last word, which I don't think I get away with, although it seems to read reasonably.
Maybe I should rewrite with a different rhyme e.g. 'see'?
I would value opinions on this!
It was the 'revered Joanna' who, after reading Brett's excellent 'Drink with me before we sleep.' (A must see, if you haven't?!) exclaimed, "That's an Aubade!".
She mentionaed Romeo and Juliet, Yeats and the Philip Larkin - a veritable mine of literary knowledge she is, compared with me!
That got me googling in great fascination!
Just read the Larkin - wow! What an Aubade indeed!
Will try to find the Yeats later . . .
Cheers!
John X | Nice piece.
Written by Brett (979 comments posted) 1st July 2008 | I agree that you should try to rewrite so as not to repeat your rhyme in those last two lines of the first stanza, but other than that I like it.
Thank your Joanna for me - I was unaware of the term Aubade. Just read the Larkin myself - great.
Cheers
ps - thanks for the promotion. |
Written by Phil (6951 comments posted) 1st July 2008 | I too was unaware of the term, Aubade. So I'm a little less ignorant than I was this morning.
Quite tender in the end, but still sad. Perhaps it's a form that encourages the more melancholy.
I've noticed a few of your more serious poems end in the big sleep. Chin up!
Phil |
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