If you have read this blog for any length of time, then you know my admiration for TS Eliot and "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock". The other day when I read Skylark Hatee;s poem inspired by his masterpiece, I had tw
o reactions. First, I was absolutely blown away. Second, I messaged her asking for permission to share on the blog.
Skylark is one of the newest friends I have form New Jersey. She is a fellow English teacher;whoever is fortunate to learn from her is blessed beyond belief. I thank her for allowing me to post her awesome work here, and for being a friend!
A poem inspired by T.S. Eliot's "Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock" with a twist:
The Wearied Love Song of Her:
And so it is here with you and I
Sitting by the morning cakes and tea
You said you liked your coffee black
And I winced a smile or two
For the room was delicately laid out
Like a Victorian painting or
A beautiful scene from
Some novel of Proust's
You tenderly looked
Up at me and proclaimed:
"La giornata è lunga la mia cara"*
And I willingly agreed
For like Prufrock's love song
Why would I
"Force the moment to its crisis!"**
Push past the door
Albeniz's "Leyenda"
Fills the corridor...
And so it is my dear
That I have to tread
Around your song and dance
With the most delicate of feet
Taking care not to trip
On the discordant tunes
Of your symphony
Lest I should shatter
The porcelain chinaware!
But should the delicate pieces
Fall and shatter
My darling t'would not matter
Lest you assume my ego is
A thing made of such
Gossemary frivolities
That I would fall apart
With the slightest
Furrowing of your brow
Push past the door and
Albeniz's "Leyenda"
Fills the corridor...
I should have joined a convent
And devoted myself
To spiritual matters
Though to you I may seem
Like some Eleanor of Aquitaine
With my silk laced camisoles
My velvet gloves and silver broach
I neatly use my locks to pin
Seven years and counting
I refuse to eat the delicacies
You have given me
Do I dare eat a dark mint
Chocolate covered plum
While your eyes pierce mine?
But alas this illusion must shatter!
For I have wept and prayed
Prayed and wept
For some divine intervention
Regarding this matter!
Push past the door and
Albeniz's "Leyenda"
Fills the corridor...
I grow weary... I grow weary
With each passing day
That perhaps some diamond
Would surface from within
And once again you look
Up at me and proclaim:
"La giornata è lunga la mia carra"
And once again I float
Into the iridescent
Sea of your melody
Until the clarion call of reality
Summons me forth
And in its echoing scream I drown
Within an impossible dream
Push past the door and
Albeniz's "Leyenda"
fills the corridor...
© 2015 Skylark Hatee
* "La giornata è lunga la mia cara" in Italian translates to "The day is long my dear."
** from T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"
Skylark is one of the newest friends I have form New Jersey. She is a fellow English teacher;whoever is fortunate to learn from her is blessed beyond belief. I thank her for allowing me to post her awesome work here, and for being a friend!
A poem inspired by T.S. Eliot's "Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock" with a twist:
The Wearied Love Song of Her:
And so it is here with you and I
Sitting by the morning cakes and tea
You said you liked your coffee black
And I winced a smile or two
For the room was delicately laid out
Like a Victorian painting or
A beautiful scene from
Some novel of Proust's
You tenderly looked
Up at me and proclaimed:
"La giornata è lunga la mia cara"*
And I willingly agreed
For like Prufrock's love song
Why would I
"Force the moment to its crisis!"**
Push past the door
Albeniz's "Leyenda"
Fills the corridor...
And so it is my dear
That I have to tread
Around your song and dance
With the most delicate of feet
Taking care not to trip
On the discordant tunes
Of your symphony
Lest I should shatter
The porcelain chinaware!
But should the delicate pieces
Fall and shatter
My darling t'would not matter
Lest you assume my ego is
A thing made of such
Gossemary frivolities
That I would fall apart
With the slightest
Furrowing of your brow
Push past the door and
Albeniz's "Leyenda"
Fills the corridor...
I should have joined a convent
And devoted myself
To spiritual matters
Though to you I may seem
Like some Eleanor of Aquitaine
With my silk laced camisoles
My velvet gloves and silver broach
I neatly use my locks to pin
Seven years and counting
I refuse to eat the delicacies
You have given me
Do I dare eat a dark mint
Chocolate covered plum
While your eyes pierce mine?
But alas this illusion must shatter!
For I have wept and prayed
Prayed and wept
For some divine intervention
Regarding this matter!
Push past the door and
Albeniz's "Leyenda"
Fills the corridor...
I grow weary... I grow weary
With each passing day
That perhaps some diamond
Would surface from within
And once again you look
Up at me and proclaim:
"La giornata è lunga la mia carra"
And once again I float
Into the iridescent
Sea of your melody
Until the clarion call of reality
Summons me forth
And in its echoing scream I drown
Within an impossible dream
Push past the door and
Albeniz's "Leyenda"
fills the corridor...
© 2015 Skylark Hatee
* "La giornata è lunga la mia cara" in Italian translates to "The day is long my dear."
** from T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"
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