Ghost Story - Justin

About the writing

I selected to write based on the form of Poe’s The Raven which is a massive poem. The form is unusual both in rhyme structure and in rhythm and could almost be likened to a song rather than a poem. I started by diagraming a stanza as a guide and working with the rhythm. One of the freeing things I found in studying the poem was that Poe was not strict with syllable counts provided there were the right amount of down beats and proper flow. I fought out 2 stanzas which do not appear here as they were replaced in the narrative arch, but they helped me find that flow and get comfortable with it. What I liked, I think I did the form justice. It was hard but fun writing. What I didn’t like, I didn’t finish: The Raven is 18 stanzas of building, driving, hammering, maddening glory. Though this narrative would not hammer even if pulled out to triple its 6 stanzas, I would have liked to deepen the arch in a longer build. The ideas were there for a lot of it and if we were doing this monthly instead of weekly, I could have made something I was happier with. I am happy with it though, I would like to fill it out and finish it. Maybe.

The child on the floor

As I sat at my desk writing, gently coaxing and inviting
Prose from sorrow’s soul to paper through my hand and pen outpour
I caught a chill I could not fend and thought the fire to attend
So rising, going there to mend, to mend the flames that roared before
I whispered “love, it grows cold; I’ll mend the flames that roared before
To the child on the floor

Now the child oft there played since mother, sister had been laid
To rest having caught a fever the autumn of the year before
And I smiled to see her folly, sitting, playing with a dolly
It fought against the melancholy always pressing at the door
The melancholy growing there where two were left where once was four
The autumn of the year before

It was a favorite of the older sister when the days grew colder
Huddled with her toys and playing warm before the fire’s roar
Then the younger took the spot to sit before the fire hot
For Jane I’m sure, and for me not she took the spot upon the floor
To honor Jane she took to playing warm before the fire’s roar
Quiet on the study floor

The household staff had thought it strange the child did her habits change
To leave her room and take to playing where her sister had before
I said I did not see the harm; I liked to have her near my arm
And that the cause of their alarm they should mention nevermore
She bought me some small solace from the sorrow knocking at the door
Since autumn of the year before

Spoke my daughter “is it cold? We had not noticed, truth be told
For me, the company does keep me warm inside your study’s door”
I smiled “my dear you are quite sweet; to think my presence might bring heat
To keep the chill from toes and feet as flames will dwindle more and more
To think that your dull father might replace the warmth from fire’s roar
Tis enough for winter’s store”

“Papa I do not wish you pain, but saying ‘we’ I spoke for Jane
Tis Jane whose friendship brings me in to play upon your study floor
She says she never feels the cold since the fever loosed its hold 
When autumn’s leaves were growing old October of the year before”
Said my daughter on the floor