The Passover

[Vistaldust]

"When Souls Say Goodbye"

He dreamed a morphine dream.
It was a hospice dream,
bathed by memories of darker
times made bright by a twist of plot,
believing scars he inflicted quickly healed.

In all his dreams he craved water,
feeling his sandpaper throat closing.
The drink never came - just Kodachrome
images of the old house with the leaky roof
and the well-trimmed hedges.
Once he passed out in them stepping
out of his car. One drink too many,
a chapter often repeated with regret.

She was there. She was always there,
even when he drank, and hit, then
left her all alone to cry. It was a catholic
marriage for which she had no escape.
Fifty years passed, and those times were
forgotten by the closing of iron curtains.

Now she was with him again in summer 1964,
riding the tire-framed Ferris wheel, watching Manhattan
standing tall in the distance. It had been
a good time and she was alive,
reaching out her hand to pull him toward her,
yearning to take him to the place where guilt falls
away and sweet music plays.

The dream begins to dissolve.
The morphine expires, and images of loftiness
become hardened in the cold mist
of reality.

Soon he realizes he is still alive,
and the place where she lives is a place
he knows he can never go.
He knows they are standing over him,
waiting, crying, remembering.
He remembers, too.
The dropper touches his lips. Soon he
will remember as they have, of happy
times, days of penance, reinvention,
and the opiate trance he hopes
will be his last dream before nothingness
- or fire.

I was captivated. So then I had to try and critique it, it wasn't an easy job.

So I read it again and thought, 'I don't like the title and there is one comma that looks out of place'.

The next time I read it I thought it should be called 'Death Bed Guilt'.

I'm going to wait and see if anyone else thinks there is a comma that seems out of place as well, before pointing out where it is, cos I could be wrong.



The next time I read it I thought it should be called 'wishful thinking'.

How about "The Passover"?

---

"When Souls Say Goodbye"

He dreamed a morphine dream.
It was a hospice dream,
bathed by memories of darker
times made bright by a twist of plot,
believing scars he inflicted quickly healed.
I really like this first stanza a lot. I'm getting a nice image in my head and the way the dream is described is really good. Don't change this.

In all his dreams he craved water,
feeling his sandpaper throat closing.
The drink never came - just Kodachrome
images of the old house with the leaky roof
and the well-trimmed hedges.
Once he passed out in them stepping I like this line and the next two, they're simple, yet very powerful.
out of his car. One drink too many,
a chapter often repeated with regret.

She was there. She was always there,
even when he drank, and hit, then
left her all alone to cry. It was a catholic
marriage for which she had no escape.
Fifty years passed, and those times were
forgotten by the closing of iron curtains.
The idea of a Catholic (I think the C should be capitalized?) marriage being one without escape is really good. I have heard that if a couple follows the religion closely divorce is not an option. However, if I am wrong, I apologize, I am not religious.

Now she was with him again in summer 1964,
riding the tire-framed Ferris wheel, watching Manhattan
standing tall in the distance. It had been
a good time and she was alive,
reaching out her hand to pull him toward her,
yearning to take him to the place where guilt falls
away and sweet music plays.

The dream begins to dissolve.
The morphine expires, and images of loftiness
become hardened in the cold mist
of reality.
I really like the fact that the dream was just memories. In which case I think you could change the title to something about being on a death bed, as I'm guessing this is about. But the title as is doesn't bother me either.

Soon he realizes he is still alive,
and the place where she lives is a place
he knows he can never go.
He knows they are standing over him,
waiting, crying, remembering.
He remembers, too.
From here on I got a little confused... You could try to clean it up a bit. I had to read it about 3 or 4 times. Could just be me though.
The dropper touches his lips. Soon he
will remember as they have, of happy
times, days of penance, reinvention,
and the opiate trance he hopes
will be his last dream before nothingness
- or fire.

I really like everything about this. Honestly I don't see too much that you can change. Just giving you my praise.

If you do choose to edit though, I look forward to the next draft!

Thanks, I appreciate the critique!

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Thanks for the feedback, guys. I like scurry finger 's idea of hanging the title. I want to call it "The Passover" but I'm not sure I can just change it without it appearing as a new poem.