His sister’s response on hearing the newS (9/1/93)

I always thought a man like he,
Would die a little more gracefully.
He ended not with a whimper
But with a bang.  What a bummer?

He walked on wires all of his life
Until that day that ended his plight.
Taking to the air with the greatest of ease,
And falling down hard upon his knees.

File:A tightrope walker above a clown. Engraving. Wellcome V0007470.jpg
V0007470 A tightrope walker above a clown. Engraving. Credit: Wellcome Library, London. Wellcome Images images@wellcome.ac.uk http://wellcomeimages.org A tightrope walker above a clown. Engraving. Published: -Copyrighted work available under Creative Commons Attribution only licence CC BY 4.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

An occurrence like this is not so rare
For my siblings and me to have to fare;
Our family has always been one
With their share of misfortune.

They have all passed on in peculiar ways,
Having their share of numbered days.
But mine are numbered too; it seems.
No longer able to follow my dreams.

Jean was the eldest of all of the sons.
He sure had a fancy for those unusual guns.
Taking no care, he was first to go,
Dying one night with an arrow and bow.

Armand was our knight and our savior,
Often commended for his courtly behavior.
But he was the one with all of the brains,
Until he was checked in a tournament game.

Mama and Papa were fond of the water,
Regularly stating, “The lake was superior.”
My parents departed most spiritedly,
Drowning their sorrows in bourbon and tea.

When she heard the news of their demise,
She thought it might have been a guise;
But Sister Renée had mourned their loss.
Shortly after, she was found on a cross.

My youngest brother was a lover of hounds,
Frequently taking visits down to the pound.
Sweet little Paul was found in a ditch,
Quite a bit smaller; a meal for a bitch.

My portly brother was a glutton of sort,
Continually neglecting his duties of court.
Jacques, too,  was young when he met his maker;
A shame that he slighted the poor, old baker.

Marie was our maid through thick and through thin,
A static personality till the day she was done in.
A shocking, yet stunning way is how she expired,
Overcharging the battery, then getting crushed by the tires.

Michel was quick and light on his feet;
A dancer by trade that could not be beat.
He’d bounce and plié with his head held up high,
So he didn’t see the trap door the day that he died.

A ladies’ man, Jules was known by all;
He liked them big, and he liked them tall.
Practiced was he in techniques L’ Amour,
His final breath was pleasure, of that, I’m sure.

Now I see, my time is near.
The way ahead is very clear.
I’ll join the rest of my family
In the eternal halls of infamy.

For I was the one that killed them all,
And doing so, in fact, was a ball.
‘Cause they weren’t as kind as they might seem;
They did their share of malignant things.

Murderers, thieves, and liars be,
They’d set fire to churches too, see.
Though family they might have been,
They all belonged in a coffin.

My duties were done responsibly,
But I missed one of the family.
I hear him now.  He comes for me,
to take me down to Mephistopheles.

Pierre gave his soul for eternal life.
So, I could not kill him with a knife.
They want my soul too, as example to all.
Satan and he have a lot of gall.

Before I utter my final adieu,
Let this be a warning to all of you.
Life is short, often overlooked;
So don’t be a fool and become a crook.

Here they are to take me away
To a land of gloom and misery.
Hear the bells.  They toll so loud
For evil ones amongst the crowd.

My family will receive me anon,
Making me the final one in line.
But first, to you, a fond farewell.
Remember my message, go not to Helllllllll—-

Default Comments (1)

One thought on “His sister’s response on hearing the newS (9/1/93)”

  1. From 12/24/1993 – A friend of my told me to write an epic poem. He was thinking Homeric, I was thinking anything longer than a page. After writing La Courte [Yesterday], I wanted to tell the story of how he died. From there, it turned into the story of a family and their undoing by one to two members of that family. Every name holds an importance to that character’s lifestyle that is developed in four lines. All of their deaths are ironic and deserving. This is a statement of my thoughts of aristocracy. It was also fun to write. Since I wrote this last one I improved the minor flaws and they appear later.

    Lates. . .

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Facebook Comments (1)