Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.
Jun 15, 2010
⭐ View statistics (Premium feature)
Phantom Of The Opera: Introduction
Phantom Of The Opera
Andrew Lloyd Webber Version
The Movie
Introduction
by: CM Mattison
At an early age, my poverty crazed
Mother poured scalding water on me
disfiguring half my face and head.
Having turned her child into a monster,
she sold me to a circus man
who put me on display for pay
with stick rag monkey for company.
He kept a burlap sack on my head
and beat me for being alive,
and bruised my soul and failing will
although, no one saw my tears.
The gawkers would come,
And most would point and laugh,
While others would scream, when he
pulled the bag off my gruesome head.
One day, as if a dam had burst,
it occured,to free the ropes binding me
to the cruel bars of my small cage.
I strangled my keeper with those ropes,
feeling the life flee his body
along with his ragged, rum-soaked breath.
A young ballerina with tears in her eyes
and pity in her fair heart,
saw what was happening and took action.
She opened the cage, took my hand,
pulled me out onto the cobbled street after her;
the police were close on our tail.
We ran to the Opera House
in the dark of the Parisian night
where she opened a secret grate and I entered
surprised to find myself in a warm chamber.
My friend and savior led me
through secret passages, into the catacombs
beneath the massive building that became
my new home and playground.
She brought me food and many things.
I lived and grew in the comfort of my labyrinth with
Stolen candles to light my shadowy loneliness.
Song from the Opera House, above, drenched me
in hope and inspiration
and became my constant companion.
From my sweet ballerina, I learned to read and write music.
And the rhythm and notes were in my blood;
they infused me with a new life,
never before dreamed of.
By night, after the last performance,
I prowled the Opera House
searching amongst the seats
for lost money and anything I might use.
and after one masquerade night I found a soft
black leather mask that suited me perfectly.
Hidden and secure in this mask,
I soon found myself taking liberties;
watching and listening from the rafters.
Occasionally, when espied by a stage hand,
he died at my hands for his mistake.
and I took advantage of the fear this generated,
and became the Opera House Ghost,
making demands upon the owner
for a box of my own and a ransom against disaster.
Most of the opera divas were talentless.
One, in particular, Carlotta, by name, sounded,
to my highly-tuned ears, like a banshee,
shrilling her curses upon a world incapable of caring.
Christine, her understudy, had a voice
like silver bells in Springtime.
and in my clandestine fashion,
I sent a note to the owner
demanding that Christine be given the lead
the next opera, to forstall,
additional accidents and mayhem.
I knew that Christine was poised for this
for I had been grooming and molding her
from behind a mirrored secret passage
in her boudoir. She called me
her "Angle of Music!" and followed my instruction.
without question or suspicion.
And so it was agreed that Christine
would perform instead of Carlotta.
Christine, of flawless voice, my only love.
My empty arms ached with exquisite pain
for her to fill them and my barren heart with joy.
Part I has been written by Poewriter58
http://www.neopoet.com/node/41634
Andrew Lloyd Webber Version
The Movie
Introduction
by: CM Mattison
At an early age, my poverty crazed
Mother poured scalding water on me
disfiguring half my face and head.
Having turned her child into a monster,
she sold me to a circus man
who put me on display for pay
with stick rag monkey for company.
He kept a burlap sack on my head
and beat me for being alive,
and bruised my soul and failing will
although, no one saw my tears.
The gawkers would come,
And most would point and laugh,
While others would scream, when he
pulled the bag off my gruesome head.
One day, as if a dam had burst,
it occured,to free the ropes binding me
to the cruel bars of my small cage.
I strangled my keeper with those ropes,
feeling the life flee his body
along with his ragged, rum-soaked breath.
A young ballerina with tears in her eyes
and pity in her fair heart,
saw what was happening and took action.
She opened the cage, took my hand,
pulled me out onto the cobbled street after her;
the police were close on our tail.
We ran to the Opera House
in the dark of the Parisian night
where she opened a secret grate and I entered
surprised to find myself in a warm chamber.
My friend and savior led me
through secret passages, into the catacombs
beneath the massive building that became
my new home and playground.
She brought me food and many things.
I lived and grew in the comfort of my labyrinth with
Stolen candles to light my shadowy loneliness.
Song from the Opera House, above, drenched me
in hope and inspiration
and became my constant companion.
From my sweet ballerina, I learned to read and write music.
And the rhythm and notes were in my blood;
they infused me with a new life,
never before dreamed of.
By night, after the last performance,
I prowled the Opera House
searching amongst the seats
for lost money and anything I might use.
and after one masquerade night I found a soft
black leather mask that suited me perfectly.
Hidden and secure in this mask,
I soon found myself taking liberties;
watching and listening from the rafters.
Occasionally, when espied by a stage hand,
he died at my hands for his mistake.
and I took advantage of the fear this generated,
and became the Opera House Ghost,
making demands upon the owner
for a box of my own and a ransom against disaster.
Most of the opera divas were talentless.
One, in particular, Carlotta, by name, sounded,
to my highly-tuned ears, like a banshee,
shrilling her curses upon a world incapable of caring.
Christine, her understudy, had a voice
like silver bells in Springtime.
and in my clandestine fashion,
I sent a note to the owner
demanding that Christine be given the lead
the next opera, to forstall,
additional accidents and mayhem.
I knew that Christine was poised for this
for I had been grooming and molding her
from behind a mirrored secret passage
in her boudoir. She called me
her "Angle of Music!" and followed my instruction.
without question or suspicion.
And so it was agreed that Christine
would perform instead of Carlotta.
Christine, of flawless voice, my only love.
My empty arms ached with exquisite pain
for her to fill them and my barren heart with joy.
Part I has been written by Poewriter58
http://www.neopoet.com/node/41634
— Candlewitch, Jun 15, 2010
Share this poem
Critiques
judyanne
15 years 11 months ago
simply love this story and andrew lloyd webber's music
Candlewitch
15 years 11 months ago
Dear Judy
shirley harrison
15 years 11 months ago
i feel like i have been to the Opera today!
Candlewitch
15 years 11 months ago
Dear Shirley
poewriter58
15 years 11 months ago
Cat
Candlewitch
15 years 11 months ago
Thanks, Chrys
Seren
15 years 11 months ago
OMG I am excited ... this is a treat you two
Candlewitch
15 years 11 months ago
Dear Jayne
poewriter58
15 years 11 months ago
Cat
xena465
15 years 11 months ago
Hi Cat
Candlewitch
15 years 11 months ago
Dear Rosina
wolf
15 years 11 months ago
I’m afraid I have no other
Candlewitch
15 years 11 months ago
Dear Wolf
Jonathan Moore
15 years 11 months ago
As requested Cat, my Critique
Candlewitch
15 years 11 months ago
Dear Jonathan
Jonathan Moore
15 years 11 months ago
Cat