This Poem was Submitted By: Regina M. Heller On Date: 2016-05-04 22:25:46 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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The Rooftop, The End

About suffering they were never wrong, These lads;  How well they understood its human position; how it takes place  While someone else eats, or opens a window,  Or sweeps up the rice from a church where a wedding has been;  How when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting  For the miraculous birth, there always must be  Those who did not specially want it to happen,  Taking their lunch within earshot on a bench in the park:  These lads never forget  That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course;  In a basement, some untidy spot where Apples await preserving, In the middle of a dream, and a Dark Horse breaks free; Consider the rooftop, for instance: how everything turns away  Quite leisurely from the valediction; the man in the derby may  Have heard the music, the ardent, urgent voices,  But for him it was not an important failure; the cold wind blew  As it had to on the rooftop from which their music fell to Earth;  And the coaches and lorries that must have heard  Something amazing, voices and music, falling out of the sky,  Had somewhere to get to and inched calmly on.

Copyright © May 2016 Regina M. Heller

Additional Notes:
The Beatles' impromptu rooftop concert, their final public performance on January 30, 1969, marked the end of an era; a phenomenon so extraordinary that it couldn’t help but fly too close to the sun. This poem is reworked from "Musée des Beaux Arts" by W. H. Auden, an ekphrastic poem reflecting on Brughel's painting, The Fall of Icarus. I guess mine is an ekphrastic poem reflecting on Auden's ekphrastic poem. The title of this poem also references "The End" which was, in fact, the last song ever recorded collectively by all four of The Beatles, and is the final song of the medley that dominates side two of Abbey Road.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2016-06-07 15:34:34
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Regina, I always enjoy a piece that gives me homework, the research of a story I already knew, the falling of Icarus. In its application here, and with the context of the Beatles, one has to decide whether it is the talent and fame that made the departure sorer, or the departure that accents the talent and fame. Of the entire analogy, I have to wonder if the author really thinks the fall comes from lack of wisdom in everyday workings, or if it is rather a normal, inevitable result of most of the most talented attempting to meld into a single entity. Of Icarus; a real ignorance of the mechanics and properties of his wings allowed his foolishness to prevail. Of the Beatles, I am not so sure. Of them together, the fall is comparable. One might say magnetic and they knew it. They interacted, played on each others albums, socially shared, long after the breakup. In fact (until after Johns untimely murder, only she held out as a detractor. Of course that ended when it became inconvenient. Excellent thought in the piece, thoroughly enjoyed it.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joe Gustin On Date: 2016-05-07 08:47:43
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
This is a master work. Like reading a poetic tapestry. Every interwoven phase leading us to right there in a moment in time so many of our generation will never forget. Bravo. It is so good to see your poetic works again.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2016-05-06 16:54:50
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Regina, Wonderful to see you back here. In light of the esteem with which you were held by many, perhaps your presence will bring some old faces back. That would of course be terrific. I go back to May of 2001. My first month I came runner-up to you, and I've never forgotten that. lol Want a trip down memory lane? -
0000/ I read your comments in your new profile, and know how true they are to what this site meant back then and throughout 2000 and into 2001, perhaps 2002 - before the decline. This place was magic. I don't know if it's simple "who gives a shit" or what. I say, regarding our old friends, "well, they have other things to do," but they did then, too, and it didn't stop them. What went wrong? Anyway, now to your poem. First, too imitative of Auden for me. You've always been a fine poet, so of course the writing exhibits flashes of that ability shining threw. But my overall, dominating impression is: the poem is enslaved to its model, and the slavery doesn't enhance its existence. It has the feel of something confined, and trying to break free. MSS
This Poem was Critiqued By: DeniMari Z. On Date: 2016-05-06 12:03:20
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
A wonderful poem Regina - and I appreciate your note because it made me go back and read it again - and again - to enjoy your words so poetic and sincere - They were young but held wisdom some never learn in life- very good read, Deni
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