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Memento, Homo…
“There is no architecture in New Orleans, except in the cemeteries.” —Mark Twain
If we should go to New Orleans
We’ll see our share of raucous scenes
At Mardi Gras soirees and balls
With kings and queens in grandiose halls.
We’ll see the floats sail down Saint Charles
Then claim a berth as traffic snarls.
Inching along…what’s that ahead?
Ah, yes… cities of the dead.
These well-laid monuments and graves
Are resting place for knights and knaves.
The proud, the weak, profane and solemn
Are hid beneath arch, vault and column.
Their precious wealth and worldly deeds
Are now like cheap doubloons and beads.
All songs have faded from their ears
And gone the crowds, the krewes, the cheers.
Their stories now encased in stone
Will fade away, untold, unknown.
How many passed, their souls prepared?
How many more cursed and despaired?
These sprawling silent cities tell
To all who pass: “You’ll soon here dwell.”
One glance, we know—deep down, at least—
Our bones will soon be vermin’s feast.
Once workers clean the streets of trash
Our foreheads will get marked with ash.
Yet like those in their tombs so near,
God knows our hearts: are we sincere?
The lesson clear: live well we must—
Remember, man, that you are dust…
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Poet’s Note: the title is taken from the traditional Latin formula for imposition of ashes on Ash Wednesday: Memento, homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris. (Remember, man, that you are dust, and unto dust you shall return.)
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Mr. Ben Broussard lives in New Orleans, Louisiana. He is a full time volunteer with the American Society of the Defense of Tradition, Family and Property (TFP).
This poem is great. Mark Twain, however, was wrong about the architecture in New Orleans.
Thank you, Court. New Orleans has grown and changed since Mark Twain lived here, but even in his day that quote would no doubt have been taken in jest. Another quote of his: “New Orleans food is as delicious as the less criminal forms of sin.”
Great topic, great poem.
Thanks for the read, Ben.
Thank you, Ben, for this well-written and profoundly thoughtful Carnival Monday poem. It fills a genuine need, brings precious memories to the foreground, and reflects the deep beauty of a city especially attractive in its overgrown seediness.
Thank you, Margaret. Overgrown seediness is a great way to put it. This city has so much hidden history which I’m constantly discovering. Some of the worst of New Orleans can be seen during Carnival, but the best comes out for the Saint Joseph’s Altars on March 19. For those reading this comment who aren’t familiar I’ll go ahead and link to your superb poem on that topic here: https://classicalpoets.org/2021/03/19/saint-josephs-table-by-margaret-coats/#/
Apologies for delay in replying, I’ve been away from the computer for a few days.
Thanks, Ben, for the reminder link about Saint Joseph’s upcoming feast. When I was working on the poem, I saw a video of New Orleans activities including distribution of thousands of free pasta meals. You are a busy man, full time with TFP, but I hope you can spare some hours to write and publish here, exercising your clear talent to defend poetic tradition.
What’s not to like? I wish I could be there, no matter the circumstance.
Thank you, very nice well done. It reminds me of that an olde sayed sawe [nod to Thomas Cooper]; “everybody wants to go to Heaven, but nobody wants to die to get there.”
This is a marvelous meditation for Ash Wednesday!
The closing couplet says it all.