The Funeral of Mark Cecil

[Mark Cecil]

The funeral of Mark Cecil (2nd edit)

He thumped along the ward like a hippo
grunting a syllable each thud he made:
“Max - i - mill - i - en Robes - pi - erre” he said
believing to be as great as he was 

Obsessed with the great French Revolution
he believed earnestly that he would be 
compared to great men of that nation, like
Robespierre, Danton, Marat, Voltaire

He believed the French would call him there own
and would say in time “je suis Mark Cecil”
But he would not risk life for liberty
and was not about to be viciously martyred

But the Hospital would become his grave
for his mental state worsened there greatly
constantly repeating words and phrases
holding thoughts of excessive grandeur

To him his death would be of world renown 
all people's of earth would mourn his passing
many would rush to come and pay respect
especially the great people of France 

But his death and funeral never took place
and no masked and armed men came to kill him,
no tears streamed down cheeks at a sudden death,
no funeral with a coffin was laid down.

Yet his mind died February second
two thousand and fifteen in Craigavon.
Like a ship without a rudder to stir
was his body’s workings without its mind

That day saw his mind become guillotined
and his thoughts become sliced of all meaning
his head fell from the stock into madness
isolation would become his coffin.

The intensive care unit would become
his great sarcophagus of psychosis
which he would endlessly pace around
the very place of his mind’s funeral  

But his absent family shed no tears
only strange undertakers were present
who rather than bury the man's mad brain 
now hoped to resurrect it from folly.


The funeral of Mark Cecil (1st edit)

He thumped along the ground like a hippo
Grunting a syllable each thud he made:
“Max - i - mill - i - en Robes - pi - erre” he said
Having the same thoughts of grandeur as he did

For he saw himself as a Frenchman
and thought earnestly that he would be compared
to many great men of that nation, men like:
Robespierre, Danton, Marat and Voltaire

To him his death would be of world renown 
all people's of the earth would mourn his death
many would rush to come and pay their respects
especially the people of France

He died the second of February 
two thousand and fifteen in Craigavon.
He believed the French would call him there own
and would say in time “je suis Mark Cecil”

But his death and funeral never took place
no masked and armed men came to kill him,
no mourning tears were shed at his passing,
no funeral with a coffin was laid to rest.

For on that day his mind was guillotined
his thoughts were shredded of all meaning
his head fell from the stock into madness
the isolation unit became his coffin.

His family shed no tears for they were absent
only strange undertakers were present
who rather than bury the deceased
resurrected him from his great folly.


The funeral of Mark Cecil

To him his death would be of world renown
all people's of the earth would mourn his passing
many would rush to come and pay their respects
especially the people of France

For he saw himself as a Frenchman
and thought earnestly that he would be compared
to many great men of that nation, men like:
Descartes, Pascal, Sartre and Voltaire

Many in Paris who said “je suis Charlie”
would say in time “je suis Mark Cecil”
deceased the second February
two thousand and fifteen in Craigavon

But his death and funeral never took place
no masked and armed men came to kill him,
no mourning tears were shed at his passing,
no funeral with a coffin was laid to rest.

For on that fateful day his mind perished
Making him follow the ways of the beasts
descending him into the grave of madness
With the isolation unit his coffin.

His family shed no tears for they were absent
Only strange undertakers were present
Who rather than bury the deceased
Resurrected him from his great folly.

[aschueler]

I've been busy working in the real world, I haven't done any workshopping in months, so this is a rusty critique.  I noticed no responses so figured I would start here.

This is a set of quatrains that to my read have no meter or rhyme.  Free verse, apparently.  But why four lines per strophe?

The subject matter is interesting enough, almost Walter Mitty ish, with self deprecation mixed in.  Fun to read through.

However, especially the last strophe shows run on sentences.  And I believe the beginning should start with a conditional "To him his death would have...."

I like the overall deal but there's those rough spots

[RiverNotch]

The punctuation and capitalization of the piece is a mess. I couldn't take this as seriously, even as the satire it seems to be, with the carelessness, which I have, according to my style, corrected below (so you should really pursue your own corrections) --- especially with the stench of vanity. I mean, I suppose most grand poetry is vain, and vain to a great extent, but this ------- I'll try and explain.

First, the title. The author dropping his own name (or perhaps his avatar's name) already feels like an order of magnitude more vain than the rest. "The Funeral of Mark Cecil" -- to me, it implies some grand parade, or perhaps some grand cause of death, that's specific to the author, rather than to a persona vague enough ("My Funeral" should be enough, even if you use your name later on) to be adapted by the reader.

To him his death would be of world renown:
all peoples of the earth would mourn his passing.
Many would rush to come and pay their respects,
especially the people of France. But not considering the title, no, this is show of vanity isn't yet egregious....

For he saw himself as a Frenchman
and thought earnestly that he would be compared
to many great men of that nation, men like:
Descartes, Pascal, Sartre and Voltaire. It's here that the eye-twitch returns, if only because the greatness here feels....I dunno. Elitist? I mean, sure, the point is they're French, so I can't really shake off Eurocentrism, but these figures are all boring old white dudes. Why not exciting dudes like Robespierre, or young dudes like Rimbaud, or black dudes like Dumas, or not-dudes like de Beauvoir? And there's also the stench of Great Man theory here, which really doesn't sit well -- when Whitman compared himself to "great men", he had empathy enough to recognize greatness in everyone, such that his poem seemed expansive, compared to this.

Many in Paris who said “je suis Charlie” And then here, the problem is magnified. "Je suis Charlie" was, at least according to my understanding, a protest against extremism and for free speech -- the oppression there was far more immediate than anything the poem discusses. The reference here at best feels misapplied, especially without any talk of murder or controversy throughout, and at worst feels like the speaker is diluting the central issue of the protest.
would say in time “je suis Mark Cecil",
deceased the second February, 
two thousand and fifteen in Craigavon.

But his death and funeral never took place:
no masked and armed men came to kill him, I mean, sure, you do reference the fact that it was an undue comparison, but the issue runs sort of deeper than that. For one, as far as I know, no masked extremists went and murdered Voltaire, Descartes, etc. -- for another, this ignores the elements of extremism and free speech inherent in the Charlie Hebdo case. Sure, it was a violent death, but that's about all there is in common with what the speaker seems to reach out for here, especially since Charlie Hebdo wasn't a particularly insightful magazine (not that it deserved what happened to it, mind you), already courting controversy among more reasonable circles long before the shooting. This really isn't enough -- in fact, if you really want to go with the whole comparison, you should probably move the direct reference to Charlie Hebdo down, because it really leaves a strong enough taste to spoil the rest.
no mourning tears were shed at his passing,
no funeral with a coffin was laid to rest.

For on that fateful day his mind perished,
making him follow the ways of the beasts,
descending him into the grave of madness
with the isolation unit his coffin. And the rest....I dunno. There's something very flat about this stanza. How did his mind perish? How did he follow the ways of the beasts? "descending him into the grave of madness" -- I mean, besides the fact that descending is an INtransitive verb, it feels quite cliche.

His family shed no tears for they were absent.
Only strange undertakers were present
who rather than bury the deceased
resurrected him from his great folly. And really, what folly? The folly of the poem -- again, the starting bits left a really bad taste in the mouth. The folly of the mind perishing -- how? That would probably make for a far more interesting piece, than this. I suppose in the end my issue really isn't the seeming vanity of the piece, but more the really, really terrible comparison with Charlie Hebdo that, sure, is acknowledged to be false, but is not acknowledged with enough depth or grace and is perhaps acknowledged a little too late to stop it from dominating the piece.

[Lizzie]

The conceit is good, so you have a solid base to work from. Except for 'je suis Mark Cecil', there's not much in the way of original description or imagery. Hardly any metaphor or simile. That's what's lacking for me -- too much tell and not enough show. I'll look for a revision on this one, because you have a good "storyline" to work from.

[Mark Cecil]

Thanks all for your feedback it has given me a lot to think about.  

The piece reflects on a time when I was in hospital and I was suffering from a severe manic episode so the vanity is evident as a result.  I refer to the Charlie Hebdo shootings because I was in hospital at the same time they happened and I also feared in my manic state I would be shot by the IRA. 

River Notch I taken your criticism on board I think I'll refer to the great figures of France I compare to the leaders of the revolution as you suggest men like Robespierre, Danton and Marat as this will be a strong link to the association of the charlie Hebdo attacks and the issues surrounding freedom of speech.  I think my own descent into mania could also be paralleled to Robespierre supposed madness and fall from grace during the french revolution.   Lizziep your probably right I probably need a bit more showing and not telling.

I'll admit there is a few cliches that need to be taken out ("the perishing of the mind" and "the way of the beasts"). I think I need to develop the comparison with Charlie Hebdo a bit more

Also I tried to create a rough metre, as each line is between 9-11 syllables

[Brownlie]

You must be some kind of supernatural thing to write about your own funeral, unless you're pretending to be dead I guess. 

The funeral of Mark Cecil (1st edit)

He thumped along the ground like a hippo
Grunting a syllable each thud he made:
“Max - i - mill - i - en Robes - pi - erre” he said
Having the same thoughts of grandeur as he did -- Of grandeur seems clunky

For he saw himself as a Frenchman
and thought earnestly that he would be compared
to many great men of that nation, men like: -- Not sure you need a colon here. It's not really wrong but colon usually comes after a complete article or whatever (with sub. and verb).
Robespierre, Danton, Marat and Voltaire

To him his death would be of world renown - Syntax is a bit clunky here. For instance, "would be of" seems like too much dead weight.
all people's of the earth would mourn his death -- Do you need to repeat the same thing in two lines? I guess it's not the same but sort of.
many would rush to come and pay their respects
especially the people of France

He died the second of February --Clunky syntax February second avoids "of February." Of course, you may have to tweak meter to fit.
two thousand and fifteen in Craigavon.
He believed the French would call him there own
and would say in time “je suis Mark Cecil”

But his death and funeral never took place
no masked and armed men came to kill him,
no mourning tears were shed at his passing, -- Not sure I like "mourning tears." Mourning seems too abstract/already evident and not adding much as an adjective. 
no funeral with a coffin was laid to rest. -- Laid to rest= cliche. I guess cliches can be OK, but I think that is one. How is the funeral ceremony laid to rest?

For on that day his mind was guillotined -- Not a fan of "For" as a starter. Sounds to antiquated or poetical. 
his thoughts were shredded of all meaning-- Does a guillotine shred?
his head fell from the stock into madness
the isolation unit became his coffin. -- Sounds like he went to the madhouse. If so, would like some elaboration.

His family shed no tears for they were absent -- Could you say his absent family?
only strange undertakers were present
who rather than bury the deceased
resurrected him from his great folly.


The funeral of Mark Cecil

To him his death would be of world renown
all people's of the earth would mourn his passing
many would rush to come and pay their respects
especially the people of France

For he saw himself as a Frenchman
and thought earnestly that he would be compared
to many great men of that nation, men like:
Descartes, Pascal, Sartre and Voltaire

Many in Paris who said “je suis Charlie”
would say in time “je suis Mark Cecil”
deceased the second February
two thousand and fifteen in Craigavon

But his death and funeral never took place
no masked and armed men came to kill him,
no mourning tears were shed at his passing,
no funeral with a coffin was laid to rest.

For on that fateful day his mind perished
Making him follow the ways of the beasts
descending him into the grave of madness
With the isolation unit his coffin.

His family shed no tears for they were absent
Only strange undertakers were present
Who rather than bury the deceased
Resurrected him from his great folly.

Fun topic. My main gripes are that some language is clunky and some confusion. What happened? Did he envision being a great martyr and then end up babbling in a mental institution? I'm not sure. Thanks for posting. : )

[Erthona]

Ditto to the rest of the criticism here, my problem with the poem is that it describes a more or less factual autobiographical account, yet the clarity of the account is muddy, but here is the main problem. Even if all the problems were resolved, I do not think I would still see a point to the poem. There are thousands of published autobiographical accounts of mental illness, not to mention the ten of thousand (probably more) on the web. So this is not fresh ground. Then comes the line that totally baffles me "For he saw himself as a Frenchman". What relevance does this have as opposed to "he was a Frenchmen". What is the line suppose to convey? If the mental illness aspect had already been setup, it might make more sense, although have no more meaning, but this is not the case. No, the writer needs to give more consideration to how the reader will perceive what has been written, rather than assume the reader knows what is in the writer's mind.


Best,

dale

[Mark Cecil]

Hopefully My 2nd edit addresses some of the problems raised.