Thursday, March 15, 2007

Poetry Thursday #11


Today's totally optional challenge is to find a word we don't know in the dictionary and write a poem using it without looking up the meaning. I think this is called the "dictionary game." I didn't choose the topic, but did use a dictionary.

Here are some e-words that can cause problems for writers. An elegy is a song of mourning or lament; a eulogy is an oration of praise; an epitaph is a phrase that appears on a grave stone; an epigraph is an engraved inscription or a quotation at the beginning of a literary work; a epithet is a disparaging word or phrase; an epilogue is the conclusion or the final chapter; an epistrophe is the repetition of a word or expression at the end of successive phrases or verses; an epode has a long verse followed by a short one; an epopee is a long poem. I checked several sources for the proper poetic form for an elegy, and the phrase "Here lies. . ." seems to be what they have in common.

I told what little I know about this baby, Alma Fay, in my Monday Memories. She was the daughter of my great grandparents born after they left Tennessee and moved to Illinois and is buried in Plain View Cemetery.

This elegy is for anyone who has lost a baby through miscarriage, abortion, adoption, or death. Maybe you have a grave to visit, maybe not. Perhaps all you have is a dim memory. But someday. . . the graves will open for the Resurrection. Reassembling dust, molecules and DNA, no matter how scattered, is no problem for the designer and creator of the universe.

Elegy for little Alma Fay, August 26, 1908 - October 3, 1908
by Norma Bruce
March 12, 2007


Here lies quietly, baby Alma Fay
with no one to remember
save one sister old and gray,
her name engraved on heart shaped stone,
among the grass and clay.

Here lies peacefully, auntie Alma Fay
with nephews, nieces, cousins,
who lived well and had their say,
a harbinger of the good life
in land so far away.

Here lies listening, precious Alma Fay,
with none left to grieve for her,
these one hundred years or pray,
but God, the Three in One, will call
on Resurrection Day.

Here rises victorious Alma Fay--
the graves are emptied at Plain View.
Praise God! she's flown away.


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17 comments:

Crafty Green Poet said...

beautiuflly written elegy, well done.

Anonymous said...

Norma,

You have written a moving poem for all that are no longer remembered, but by one.

Rose

xo

gautami tripathy said...

Very touching poem, Norma.


gautami
Aphasia

Anonymous said...

This is a sweet elegy Norma. It reminds me of when I'd visted the cemetery recently and discovered an entire area dedicated to stillborn babes. it was heartbreaking and beautiful all at the same time.

strauss said...

That relly was lovely Norma. I agree with Dewy's comments. When we look at our ancient family history, those who are mentioned and remembered are those who had a story and those who didn't, particuarly the babies, they tend to get forgotten. Those poor little souls...

wendy said...

Look how she touched you. and me. This quiet unknown.

Regina said...

Just beautiful, Norma... I am very touched by this now, as my dad's gravestone was just erected the other day... it bothered me that it took so long, but it's there now...
I hope we never forget our loved ones, even those we never knew...

Laurence said...

Very beautiful... You are talented ! :-)

P.S. Here in France, it is the week of poetry ! Yes !!!
Belle coïncidence ! ;-)

Fragmentsinsight said...

Very beautiful. You've made Alma Fay come to life by giving her a life.
Wonderfully done.

Yvonne

Beaman said...

Beautiful poem and very poignant. It read well and hooked my interest. Good write.

Joan said...

Thanks for a very moving poem about little Alma Fay. Our first grandbaby was stillborn 15 years ago. She was perfectly formed and beautiful. It has surprised me how much we all love her even though she never lived a day outside of her mother's womb. This poem made me think of Caitlin. Her parents have made sure her later-born siblings know about her.

rel said...

Norma,
This is so poetic and beautiful. I can tell it just flowed like warm honey from your heart onto the page. The babies forgotten because they marked only their parents. but then-- you've remembered, and that is enough!
rel

Mary J. said...

Argh. I wrote a comment and it didn't appear! Don't you hate that?!

With our recent loss, this poem really hit home. Thank you so much for writing and sharing this poem. We won't even have a marker, just a memory box, our memories (and hopes), and the ashes we haven't spread yet. It's good that you remember this sweet soul.

Catherine said...

When I'm researching family history, I often find that someone will say so and so had four children, and then I discover others who died in infancy and were unremembered. I think it is very touching that you marked Alma Fay's short life in this poem. (And thank you for all the "e" words)

Rethabile said...

Moving. Nice written. The unforced rhyme hammers it all home.

Kay Cooke said...

I have often thought about the babies who die and the relatives they never knew. This poem addresses that wonderfully.

ChupieandJ'smama (Janeen) said...

Norma, that was beautiful and very touching. How lovely that she is remembered in such a touching way.