some story
It was a very strange festivity
some years ago at Corinth, Greece,
the story of which doctor Sandy told me,
who was there. Let's leave the host alone,
he had the party of his life, an unforgettable farewell,
to which he generously summoned not only all his friends
but any kind of wayward outsider and displaced person,
many hippies, alcoholics, tramps and tarts
with even children, whom he gave a most luxurious dinner
with food and drink that never saw an end,
Retsina wine and Greek salads galore,
the atmosphere replenished with both joy and sorrow;
everybody laughed and had a good time
while at the same time not one eye was dry
when the eccentric host made his farewell and welcome speech,
with ample thanks to everyone just for their coming
to be present as a delightful company to his demission.
No one thought at first that he was serious,
but he had actually invited all available Bohemians in Greece
just for his company and give them all a party for his funeral.
What people best remembered afterwards
were those almost unnoticeably small remarks of bitterness
which indicated a most overwhelming disappointment
in the field of love and women – he had loved,
but more than what was good for him, and unsuccessfully.
This is no story really for a poem
but should rather be the subject of a play, which shall be written,
with the documentary material as its delicate heartbreaking base,
maybe next time I go back to Greece.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 720 times
Written on 2006-09-10 at 10:33
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191. The suicide party of David Braithwaite
It was a very strange festivity
some years ago at Corinth, Greece,
the story of which doctor Sandy told me,
who was there. Let's leave the host alone,
he had the party of his life, an unforgettable farewell,
to which he generously summoned not only all his friends
but any kind of wayward outsider and displaced person,
many hippies, alcoholics, tramps and tarts
with even children, whom he gave a most luxurious dinner
with food and drink that never saw an end,
Retsina wine and Greek salads galore,
the atmosphere replenished with both joy and sorrow;
everybody laughed and had a good time
while at the same time not one eye was dry
when the eccentric host made his farewell and welcome speech,
with ample thanks to everyone just for their coming
to be present as a delightful company to his demission.
No one thought at first that he was serious,
but he had actually invited all available Bohemians in Greece
just for his company and give them all a party for his funeral.
What people best remembered afterwards
were those almost unnoticeably small remarks of bitterness
which indicated a most overwhelming disappointment
in the field of love and women – he had loved,
but more than what was good for him, and unsuccessfully.
This is no story really for a poem
but should rather be the subject of a play, which shall be written,
with the documentary material as its delicate heartbreaking base,
maybe next time I go back to Greece.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 720 times
Written on 2006-09-10 at 10:33
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
binesh |
