Digital Storytelling

A Poet’s Love Lost

Rating: 3 out of 5.

After exploring the DS106 Assignment Bank, I decided to try my hand at the “Poem Parody” assignment. The poem I chose to parody was Emily Dickinson’s “Because I could not stop for Death – (479)”, which I have included in the right-hand column below, while my parody version is located in the left-hand column below. Though my parody turned out to be more morbid than I originally intended, I still wanted to share it since the theme of Dickinson’s original poem is death and I pretty much turned her poem into a narrative about a husband abandoning his family. Not exactly humorous at first glance, but I do find something ironic about “Death” turning into “Jeff” and leaving his wife and kids… I know my sense of humor is a little odd! Please let me know what you think by commenting below!

Parody

Because I would not stop for Jeff–
He refused to stop for me –
This Marriage held by just Ourselves –
And Jealousy.

We wearily fell– He had no taste
And I had put away
My labor and my love too,
For His Discourtesy–

He passed the School, where our Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –
He passed the City with posthaste –

He passed the Waning Moon –
Or rather – He passed Us –
The Kids drew shivering in the evening Chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
He took my Tippet – my only Chattel –

He paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Moon was scarcely visible –
Our Love – in the Ground –

Since then – ’tis Decades Past – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised my Husband’s Left
Were all but Detached–

Original

Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed Us –
The Dews drew quivering and Chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – ’tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses’ Heads
Were toward Eternity –

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