Experiments in style: Epistrophe

A poetic rendering

Greetings!

One of the things I’ve been trying out is reworking a piece of text into a completely different style. A full exposition and explanation are given here:

Experimenting with styles

In today’s experiment I’d like to tell the story in the style of epistrophe. I’ll leave it to you to work out what that means! First, though, here is the original text on which these experiments or transformations are based:

The original (template) text

In the middle of the night, I woke up (if you can call being semi-conscious being awake), walked purposefully towards the door to go to the bathroom — and almost knocked myself out.

The reason was that in the twin states of entire darkness and semi-somnambulance I was facing in a different direction from the one I thought I was facing. As a result, instead of walking through the door, I tried to walk through the wall.

The next few days brought nausea and headaches. After much prevarication I went to Accident and Emergency, where I waited petrified among people for whom “social distancing” means not quite touching you, and who wore their masks as a chin-warmer.

An hour and a half later I emerged into the twilight, secure in the knowledge that I had nothing more serious than mild concussion. I failed to do much writing, but I was pleased to have read a further 17% of my book.

Epistrophe

Arising in the midst of night

I didn’t bother to use the light.

The next thing I knew I felt half dead

And all because I’d hit my head.

I walked into a wall, not through the door

As simple as that, nothing less or more.

So I felt rather ill, and my body like lead,

And all because I’d hit my head.

After a few days of getting nothing done

My lady wife said “You are a one!

Go to the hospital to get some meds

And say ‘I’m here because I hit my head.’”

Well, at the hospital, what a laugh:

No social distancing or wearing masks.

“At this rate”, I thought, “I’ll end up dead.

And all because I hit my head.”

I was examined and told there was nothing wrong,

And left there whistling a merry song.

I’d done no writing, though my book I’d read,

And all because I’d hit my head.

Over to you

OK, so what do you think? And before anyone says anything, no I am not going to perform it!

I’d love to hear your thoughts on today’s version.

For more experiments, please see the index. Paid subscribers also get behind the scenes information about some of these experiments as well as access to the whole of the back catalogue so to speak.