The Old Man-s Dream After He Died Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABACADEFDGHIJK ALMNAAOOPQOAORDSATOD JTDD OOAUDDOO

from CAWDORA
Gently with delicate mindless fingersB
Decomposition began to pick and caress the unstable chemistryA
Of the cells of the brain Oh very gently as the first weak breathC
of wind in a wood the storm is still farA
The leaves are stirred faintly to a gentle whispering the nerve cellsD
by what would soon destroy them were stirredE
To a gentle whispering Or one might say the brain began toF
glow with its own light in the starlessD
Darkness under the dead bone sky like bits of rotting wood onG
the floor of the night forestH
Warm rains have soaked you see them beside the path shine likeI
vague eyes So gently the dead man's brainJ
Glowing by itself made and enjoyed its dreamK
-
The nights of manyA
years before this timeL
He had been dreaming the sweetness of death as a starved manM
dreams bread but now decompositionN
Reversed the chemistry who had adored in sleep under so manyA
disguises the dark redeemerA
In death across a thousand metaphors of form and action celebratedO
life Whatever he had wantedO
To do or become was now accomplished each bud that had beenP
nipped and fallen grew out to a branchQ
Sparks of desire forty years quenched flamed up fulfilmentO
Out of time undistracted by the nudging pulse beat perfectlyA
real to itself being insulatedO
From all touch of reality the dream triumphed building fromR
past experience present paradiseD
More intense as the decay quickened but ever more primitiveS
as it proceeded until the ecstasyA
Soared through a flighty carnival of wines and women to theT
simple delight of eating flesh and tendedO
Even higher to an unconditional delight But then the interconnectionsD
between the groups of the brainJ
Failing the dreamer and the dream split into multitude Soon theT
altered cells became unfit to expressD
Any human or at all describable form of consciousnessD
-
Pain andO
pleasure are not to be thoughtO
Important enough to require balancing these flashes of pos tmortalA
felicity by mindless decayU
Played on the breaking harp by no means countervalued the excessD
of previous pain Such discordsD
In the passionate terms of human experience are not resolvedO
nor worth itO

Robinson Jeffers



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