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Philomena D. Gavod - Madness
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TITLE (EDIT)
Philomena D. Gavod - Madness
DESCRIPTION
I have mentioned before that i am a huge Phantom of the Opera fan. This short story is written through the eyes of Christine during her time in the graveyard. She is talking to herself and her father, and it is evident that she is starting to feel the stress of her situation.
[874 words]
TITLE KEYWORD
Drama
AUTHOR
Philomena D Gavod
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I am a young, artistic girl from Canada. I write, but also sew, draw, paint, design and sing. You know those people that are crazy artistic and therefore cannot understand logical or mathematical things? That's me.

Please feel free to browse my work. Ask questions, critisize (contructively), and deliver some kind words. All will help my future writing endeavors...!
[January 2009]
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL ADDRESS
[email protected]
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (27)
Philomena D. Gavod - A New Ideology (Poetry) This is written as a description of my beliefs. [91 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Black Ribbon (Poetry) I have this fetish with black ribbon around roses... brought about by a huge love for the Phantom of the Opera. I wrote this poem through the eyes of Christine... perhaps on a day of confusion. [64 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Cliques (Poetry) This poem was written in the library of a large school i attended for a while. I had always attended a small school (small meaning my graduating class was 12) and then all of a sudden, i was thrust in... [17 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Confused (Poetry) Another song converted to poem. [64 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Crumbled Idols (Poetry) I previously wrote that i best express emotion through writing. This poem describes my feelings after i received a terrible phone call... [80 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Darkness Falling (Poetry) Ever had a day where you're depressed and don't care? Self explanatory. [15 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Dying (Poetry) During a time that i was depressed. I wrote this in kind of a retaliation to the song "Flying" by Cait Agus Sean on her CD Celtic Heart. [71 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Fallen Angel (Poetry) I am a huge collector and fan of angels. But strangely enough, some of my favourite pieces of artwork are of angels in distress. I drew this really grotesque picture of an angel shot through with an a... [84 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - He's Gone (Poetry) When you go through something really hard, you tend to over-think the situation. I do it for most situations; one of my many flaws. In this poem, i was overthinking the last days i spent with a friend... [102 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Hesitate (Poetry) I wrote this recently while i was touring with a music group. Throughout the tour i was emotionally wrecked, and these next few poems are what resulted... "The Tour Poems" [84 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Hopeless (Poetry) Another depression stage. [36 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - I Am Dead (Poetry) Used to be a song, and i just never finished it. I used a piece of this in another poem i posted. [69 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - In The Mirror (Poetry) The next in "The Tour Poems" series. [55 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Is It Wrong? (Songs) This is a song that i started writing after i went through my first breakup. Hopefully this one comes out the way i have it in my head, as few of my songs do...! [152 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Labrinthine Mind (Poetry) One of my passions is criminal phychology. After reading a great book about a serial killer, i wrote this poem, describing how crazy their minds wind together... and how they can create such irrationa... [38 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Love (Poetry) I wrote this after i got really frustrated with a typical over-predictable chick-flick. I really hate that everyone gets the wrong idea that love is super easy and fantastic... all from a silly movie.... [25 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Nightmares (Poetry) I just went through one of the hardest times of my life this last week (January 10th 2008). I find that when i go through hard times, the best way to get my emotions out is to write. Almost all of the... [103 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Old Adage (Poetry) Don't you hate when people tell you, "You know, when i was your age..."? Yeah, i do too. So this is my 'adage'. I stick to it, too. [15 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Only Words (Poetry) "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." A really cute and yet annoying rhyme of the playground. And totally, and in all other ways untrue. [30 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Please Help Me (Poetry) This is a song that i wrote a while back... then i decided i liked it better as a poem than a song. [63 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Queen Of The Night (Poetry) I recently sang the Queen of the Night Aria (Der Holle Rache) from Mozart's "The Magic Flute" at a competition. I have loved the song for a long time, and really love the intense character of the Quee... [76 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Rainbow (Poetry) This is one poem that isn't sad or depressing! [278 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Screaming (Poetry) Another Tour Poem, but the title escapes me. I think that maybe at the time i wrote it, i was feeling like the person in the poem was me... that i felt like screaming...? And yes, a few of the words a... [66 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Shattered (Poetry) This was another poem i wrote a while back, but i found this one tucked, hidden in an old book of mine. I hardly remember writing it, but it was worth posting. [118 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Small (Poetry) Everyone has days when they feel small. This is what comes artistically from such a day. [86 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Suicidal Outlook On Death (Poetry) This one was not written DURING a time of depression, but was written in a memory of such a time. [74 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - The Girl In The Mirror (Poetry) Another Tour Poem. This is written like a girl is breaking free from someone that she doesn't like anymore... but i wrote it like she was looking at herself in the mirror. Phych! [41 words] [Drama]
Philomena D. Gavod - Madness
Philomena D Gavod

I walk, amon cold hoards of gray rock, drooping trees and blowing petals. How sad tha their lives are no more than the dash between two numbers. The elegant carvings of their names cause people to grieve now, but what of the passed, when their grievers are too, gone? Will no one weep for them when the dates and names are so weathered from age and neglect that they can no longer be read clearly? When the stones, crosses and angels are so old that they themselves go back to the earth, will a new corpse be buried in that place? How many people, like i, will wander the graveyard's cold perimeter in the dead of night to wonder such things? How many people, like i, care whether their loved ones live on; in the ground or above it?

The trees, i am certain, were planted here to bring some look of joy to the faces of people waying their last goodbyes. They are here to try and convince sad souls dressed in black that their loved ones are in a better place. All i see when i see the trees are mountainous guardians of the dead souls. They hand, dreary and threatening over the graves of the weary, daring them to try and reunite thier sould sith sights of the past. The wind, howling and damp, flits through the leaves, like a lion throwing back its flowing mane. But the trees do not realize that they are as dead to me as the man i have come to see. They are lifeless beings, drinking up the fertilized ground that they were thoughtlessly planted on. Ironic that they thrive and grow as their patrons wither with the weight of death. If only the trees could use their bark to scare away the spirited, who come to defile this resting place with colour. This place is not meant to bear colour. Brightness.

This is the sole reason that the flowers here never seem to be new. A graveyard would not be complete without the crunch and rustle of dried, withered petals blown carelessly about. The wind cares not what it destroys. Why bring flowers to the site of someone dead? Does it not just remind them of colour and joy? In remembrance...

The words on the stones bear messages of a better future and warmth. The are written in vain, for their homes are the marking places of a body as cold as the stone they decorate. And to think that people make a living of creating such a terrifying and murky place! We pay them money for a bed that will not only consume our loved ones, but will one day disolve itself. What moral have they? They break their backs to plant another lifeless soul. I curse with the chill of the wind; the chill of the rock i touch; upon all those who receive tin for their labours here. May you all meet your ends swiftly, and be buried here among those who were once your victims.

Oh Father, i saulte your bravery. You were not afraid as you died. As you held my hand and rested your palm on my face, you were too worried about me. Perhaps, if you had cared more about yourself, you may have lived. Instead, i am alive and well, as you wished. Although to say i am well is little more than i lie. I may very well be dead. But you, Father, were not afraid to be thrown carelessly and lifeless into the cold earth; to be at the mercy of the wind, rain and snow. The risk, even, of being forgotten. I wish everyone were as brave as you. I wish i were.

Alas! I hear you calling! I am wise enough to know that it isn't your voice, but another's. Yet while my life is a hellish nightmare, i imagine even one beauty. All the light i have is cast by the moon, but how could i view it as beautiful? Like you, the moon is bound to the night; to the darkness. It is keeper of the night; only half keeper of my hell.

Yet as i hear you sing, beckoning me from my knees, i find the only beauty is a cold wash of fear from my heart. In my ears, i hear you summon. In my heart, i know you aren't there. All that calls is the shell of a man who is uqually as dead as you. He is condemned to the night, but by choice. He is emptier than the graves that have long fed the trees. His hand and his heart are as cold as the tombstones.

Yet where is my justification in damning him? For in this catacomb of a life, i find more sunlight in the darkness. I find more love in the hate. I love the man who will drag me with him to a grave of cursed, yet sweet, destruction. I turn away from you Father. I will walk the path of fear. I will live the life of a coward. For if i rest in his arms, death will not creep up, causing alarm. If i rest in his blood-stained hands, death will simply... one day... come.

 

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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2008 Philomena D Gavod
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
January 2009
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
1364
 

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