Notes on “The Danse Macabre”

I chose to publish The Danse Macabre without comment, so as not to distract from the impact of it by revealing my processes. But now that it’s been out there for a bit, I can’t resist the urge to share about how it came together.

For one thing, I’m immensely proud of the fact that I wrote the poem completely unaided. It was entirely conceived, crafted and completed using only my brain. No computer, no dictionaries (rhyming or normal), no thesaurus – just me hacking away at the words using pen and paper.

I forget where the title and topic came from. I just remember that I heard or read the words “danse macabre” somewhere, and it sounded interesting. The rest sprang from my current, dark muse.

Here is the first draft of the poem. It starts out exactly the same way, but you’ll notice that it started off in a very different direction:

And here’s the last draft – I made some minor changes while typing it into the computer:

All up I had about 11 pages of drafts, working notes, scribbles. I must admit though, my handwriting has become extremely lazy as a consequence of doing almost all of my writing on computers, and often resembles a backwards form of Arabic more than English!

It’s hard to say whether my choice to forego technology affected the outcome. I feel that it’s about the same – in terms of how long it took to get from conception to completion, and also how my brain is almost as reliable as a dictionary in providing the words that I’m looking for (maybe I’m biased towards using words that I know than the ones that I don’t).

How would you rate Macabre compared to my other works?

The Danse Macabre

O pretty young thing with your heart on a string,
Weeping alone in the dark.
As you drown in your sorrow, a few minutes I’ll borrow,
And ‘pon your future remark:

There’s no point in crying and no use in trying,
Your life’s endeavours will fail.
Whatever may be, in the end you will see,
That I will always prevail.

Which Tom, Dick or Harry will you run off and marry?
‘Til death do you part – what a lark!
In sickness or health, in poverty or wealth,
My role I’ll most faithfully hark.

And what of a job, or which bank will you rob,
To fund your miserable life?
P’rhaps dig your high-heels in and touch the glass ceiling,
Or be kept as a mother and wife.

You cannot decline the ravages of time,
The clock is also my slave.
With the years at your tail like the hare not the snail,
You’ll rot as you race to the grave.

So will you heed? Come ride my black steed,
Stop hiding behind a façade.
In the end young or old, the meek and the bold,
Will all dance the Danse Macabre.

The Paradox of the Candle

Before I start with the content of the post, a poem with the same title as this entry, I wanted to mention that my beautiful and wonderful wife Jenny, is currently suffering from chronic depression brought on as a result of complex post-traumatic stress disorder. This means that she has been out of action for a while now as she battles her inner demons.

If you have ever experienced Clinical Depression yourself (not just feeling depressed, however bad), or known somebody close to you who has suffered from it, you will know that even if I were to try to explain, it would not make any sense. It would leave you feeling frustrated and wanting to help, but you can’t – the mind of a person suffering from Depression is not rational. Rest assured that she is currently getting professional help.

I thank you to pray for us and keep her in your thoughts as she heals, and allow our (her) story to be revealed in the fullness of time.

Here is the poem I wrote. It is partly a description of what I’m seeing, and partly my way of trying to understand what’s happening to my wife. It’s not a happy subject and does not have a happy ending, so please bear that in mind (especially if you’re suffering from depression…)

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What must it be like to live
When your purpose is to die slowly
To give life to light.

The agony as your wick is burned
And your body is consumed by fire
Until nothing is left.

To keep on living in pain
Hurting those closest to you
Seeing them suffer.

Affected by the merest breeze
Flame wavers but fights to stay alive
For what reason?

But if you want to end it
You extinguish yourself
And create darkness.

Non-rhyming verse

What is it about rhyme and rhythm which makes it stick in our minds so much more than poetry that doesn’t? Maybe the human mind is nothing if not a glorified pattern matching machine…

Here’s an as-yet-untitled poem from my archives, that doesn’t rhyme:

What is this thing in my mind
That permeates all my thoughts?

What is this thing in my heart
That makes it hurt when you’re not around?

What is this thing in my eye
That sparkles when I’m looking at you?

What is this thing in my soul
That rips open my emotions and betrays them to you?

What is this thing, and where did it come from?

The write way to blog

What is a blog good for, really? It might be to share one’s thoughts with the world, but that requires somebody to actually read it. The only reason people even visit to this blog any more is to see pictures of Lara Croft*.

Many blogs are successful because they manifest the outgoing, sociable or sanguine nature of the blogger, and their success in the virtual world reflects their success in the real one. I’m obviously not one of those people – I use words like “manifest”.

Other blogs have purpose, stated or not, such as Lea Thinks Aloud which focuses mainly on book and movie reviews, or my other blog THRIFTerrific where I’m trying to concentrate on sharing tips to help people save time and money.

But cyberseraphic (as a blog) is more than 5 years old now, and it has become a cumbersome ship to steer. Nevertheless, I will persevere. My recent accomplishment in successfully completing “A chance encounter” was a very fulfilling experience in spite of the very long gestation period and the anguish suffered during the writing process, and so in this next season of my blog I’m going to focus on more creative writing (and probably the occasional post bitching about the writing process).

Hopefully, in several years’ time when I’ve achieved my goal of writing for a living, I’ll look back fondly on this post as the turning point.

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* SEO fans, see what I did there?