The waters are warm, so I jump in. Two poems in one post, partly so I won't seem too redundant: the first, I already posted in Miscellaneous, and two of its parts, I've already posted here, too; but mostly because I consider them to be essentially of the same story, and I hope that's rather obvious.
SONG OF LIFE
1 - The Comet
In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth: as his spirit hovered over the face of the waters, he said, "Let there be light!" and there was light. And all the rest of the world followed out of the void, like the tail of a comet chasing after a star.
2 - The Creation
And from the waters and the earth God created man, forming him with his own hands, in his own image: and he breathed in him the breath of life, and he blessed him with the garden of paradise, and he gave him his word. Then, the LORD God made three women.
The first was formed by the word of God from the light, and she was the true companion of man: her name was Desire. But Adam saw her creation in his waking, and he found disgust in her flesh, and disease in her blood, and destruction in her bones, and he scorned her. And she left the garden in despair, finding refuge in the dreams of man: she remained a virgin, with perfect youth and beauty.
The second was formed by the word of God from every inch of flesh and blood and bone of Adam as he slept, and her name was Lilith. She saw herself as the true equal of man, but God knew that she could not cover him to receive his seed, so he exiled her from the garden. And she became the mother of the Lilin, the demons of the night.
The third was formed by the hands of God from the rib of Adam as he slept, and she was named Eve. And man and woman left the garden together, after they ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil: and man and woman died toiling, as they became bearers of wisdom.
3 - Night
The air is always flat this time of night,
flat and cold and quiet, like the lake outside
in wintertime. I slow my breathing down:
I don't want to break the ice.
When I go to bed, I never shut my light,
a sun lamp. Why does no one let me walk outside?
There, the twisted trunks of oak never shift,
unlike the shadows of my bed.
Like the shadows of my bed, the wilderness at night
is home to demons fanged and clawed. But outside,
at least, the horrors are familiar, real and steady
in their motives, while my bed-sheets
shelter only water.
I've been swallowed whole before. I remember light,
cold moonlight, crashing through the winter ice outside,
filling my lungs, choking me, washing away my steady,
never-failing faith. Then I was pulled up
by the rooster's crow.
4 - Morning Light
Crowned bird, crow! Call forth the sun!
And sceptered moon, sweet silver moon,
see the world waking? Your time to rest!
Return home to your chamber in the ocean:
light a fire, enjoy your dinner,
and don't forget to feed your fish,
leviathan and your fellow stars.
Then, when your brother rises high,
sleep, moon! Let him rule. How the waking world
waits for the music of your dreams--
The waking world, the sensual world:
where is the winter? where is the night?
In this golden light, I am free
to walk, to sail, to fly through this garden,
and feel for the face of spring.
5 - Wandering Dreams
Under the shade of the old oak tree,
we were gathering flowers, you and I,
hyacinths blood-red and the marble lotus,
when we were made one. And the serpent,
whose eyes dreamed of ocean, filled our throats with song:
but our tears were true -- our tears, clear and formless,
altering no earthly colors -- and our love was pure --
our love, the drifting scent, the passive cry,
the questions and answers united, mounting high
over hill and mountain. But our mother
still burned white-hot with anger, when she saw
our pale and perfect bodies breeched with wine
and shards of glass: with blood-red petals, leaves of grass.
Foolish wrath: were we not freed to love?
Foolish children: so we were, but with time
comes movement: summer, autumn, and the cold again.
Even before death, there was already thirst:
where we went for peace, far from the prying eyes
of the beasts and the beetles, behemoth's song
found its purpose. In the quiet heart of the garden
stood alone the pomegranate tree,
bending low with its fruit. And as the leaves fell
and the summer wept, its blood-red seeds were sown
deep into your flesh, then watered with ocean.
6 - Afternoon Rain
"Whispering wind, listening wind,
what could compare to the loss of my love?"
"The loss of a son", he says. "Your mother
burned with an even hotter fever,
when you left." And an eagle flies overhead.
Dewdrops fall from the clouds,
and father's eyes twinkle like the stars--
they are the stars. But for whom does he weep,
I wonder? Meanwhile, the sparrow's song
grows soft, as the gold turns to ash.
And from a whisper to a whirlwind,
from a drizzle to a rainstorm, he continues:
"With this grief, we could be doves again.
We are destroyed by love, like the flower
bearing fruit. Now listen to our songs!"
7 - The Judge
When man lost his arm, his father was reborn,
his father the wise and watchful god,
and when his father rejoined the heavens, the instrument returned,
fully formed: from the blood-red seed of the pomegranate tree
to the trunk of the tree of life,
the old oak tree.
There are no questions to be asked;
there are no answers to be given.
Death flies at the face of life,
as the body returns to the waters and the earth,
feeding the fish, the fowl, the flowers,
the trees, the beetles, the serpents--
and the spirit flies over the face of the waters,
returning to God the breath of life,
as the soul is lost unto the hands of the multitude...
Only comfort. Man lost his arm three times.
On the first, he lost his way,
but he found his freedom.
On the second, he lost his home,
but he received his love.
On the third, he lost his life,
but he bore the multitude...
Be still: here she comes,
walking down the milky way.
8 - The Prophet
Today, my navel outshines me,
for today, it is a dying star
huffing its desperate last breath.
The immense pressure of gravity's hands
ever squeezing its fiery core
at last compounds its every facet
into a heavy hole in time.
Its shell of gas and light erupts
into a splendid rainbow of dust,
of carbon and oxygen, iron and nitrogen,
of water, earth, wind, and flame,
of all the material elements.
And this great cloud of stardust scatters
beyond the world of my humble body,
beyond the womb of mother earth,
beyond the weirs across the heavens
to create a brilliant legacy for their father
by calling forth the comet.
9 - The Waters of Death
And the Word of God released the waters above and the waters below. For many days and many nights the windows of the heavens were opened, and the fountains of the earth overflowed: and the waters of death mingled with the waters of life. And the waters swelled and swelled, so that all the surface of the earth was covered, even the tops of the mountains, and all the spaces of the heavens were flooded, even the seats of the stars, and all the beasts of the earth were drowned, even the fish and the fowl: and the bodies of all living things floated on the face of the waters, then blackened and bloated with rot, then sank again into the seas, and upon the wet earth, and even unto the waters beneath the earth: and all the world was rendered formless and void...
1 – Prologue In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth: as his spirit hovered over the face of the waters, he said, "Let there be light", and there was light; and all the rest of the world followed out of the void, like the tail of a comet chasing after a star.
2 – The Schoolboy The air is always flat this time of night, flat and cold and quiet, like the lake outside in wintertime. I slow my breathing down: I don't want to break the ice.
When I go to bed, I never shut my light, a sun lamp. Why does no one let me walk outside? There, the twisted trunks of oak never shift, unlike the shadows of my bed.
Like the shadows of my bed, the wilderness at night is home to creatures fanged and clawed; but outside, at least, the horrors are familiar, real and steady in their motives, while my bed-sheets shelter only water.
I've been swallowed whole before. I remember light, cold moonlight, crashing through the winter ice outside, filling my lungs, choking me, washing away my steady, never failing faith. Then, I was pulled up by the rooster's crow.
3 – The Passionate Youth From the waters and the earth God created man, forming him with his own hands, in his own image: and he breathed in him the Breath of Life, and he blessed him with the Garden of Paradise, and he gave him his Word. Then the LORD God made three women.
The first was formed by the Word of God from the light, and she was the true companion of man; her name was Desire. But Adam saw her creation in his waking: and he found Disgust in her flesh, and Disease in her blood, and Destruction in her bones: and he scorned her. And she left the garden in Despair, and she found refuge in the Dreams of man; she was a Virgin, with perfect youth and beauty.
The second was formed from every inch of flesh and blood and bone of Adam as he slept, and her name was Lilith. She saw herself as the true equal of man: but God knew that she could not cover him to receive his seed, so he exiled her from the garden. And she became the Mother of the Lilin, the demons of the night.
The third was formed from the rib of Adam as he slept, and she was named Eve. And man and woman left the garden together, after they ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil; and man died toiling, as woman grew old, becoming a Bearer of Wisdom.
4 - The Wanderer
We were gathering flowers, you and I,
when we were made one, under the shade
of the pomegranate tree. And the snake
tempted us with song: but our tears were true.
Then mother burned with anger, when she saw
our pale and perfect bodies breeched in wine.
But as we licked our lips, the serpent's blood
filled our throats with song: and we left the garden.
With our love — the drifting scent, the passive cry,
the questions and answers united, mounting high —
we banished all our memories of night, of my bed.
There was only us: no man and woman, only us.
And father only watched us, when we left,
when our love released the ocean, when the beast,
the leviathan of experience, climbed up the deep
and consumed my arm, your body: our oneness.
"Nothing compares to this loss", I tell him.
"No, there is a greater", he says. "Your mother
burned with fever, not with anger, when you left."
Then his drops of dew, and his eyes twinkle like stars.
But what made him so mercilessly distant, that he shut
from us his light and warmth, his warnings then?
The folly of old age: the vengeful soul
of the crooked boy returning? Or extended weeping:
tears for my mother, tears for the future,
the dumbness of misery? Here he speaks.
"You were destroyed by love, as the flower
bears its fruit. Now listen, cuckoo, to your songs."
5 – The Judge When man lost his arm, his father was reborn, his father the boy with twinkling eyes, and when his father rejoined the heavens, the instrument returned, fully grown: from the blood-red seed of the pomegranate tree to the trunk of the tree of life.
There are no questions to be asked; there are no answers to be given! Death flies at the face of life, as the body returns to the waters and the earth, feeding the woods, the wolves, the carrion beetles, the fish, the fowl– and the spirit flies over the face of the waters, returning to God the breath of life, as the soul falls into the hands of the multitude...
Only comfort. Man lost his arm three times. On the first, he lost his way, but he became a king. On the second, he lost his home, but he received his love. On the third, he lost his father, but he saved the multitude...
Be still: here she comes, walking down the milky way.
6 – The Prophet Today, my navel outshines me, for today, it is a dying star huffing its desperate last breath.
The immense pressure of gravity's hands ever-squeezing its fiery core at last compounds its every facet into a heavy hole in time.
Its shell of gas and light erupts into a splendid rainbow of dust, of carbon and oxygen, iron and nitrogen, of water, earth, wind, and flame, of all the material elements.
And this great cloud of stardust scatters beyond the world of my humble body, beyond the womb of mother earth, beyond the weirs across the heavens, to create a brilliant legacy for its father by calling forth the comet.
7 – Epilogue And the Word of God released the waters above and the waters below. For many days and many nights the windows of the heavens were opened, and the fountains of the earth overflowed; and the waters of death mingled with the waters of life: and the waters swelled and swelled, so that all the surface of the earth was covered, even the tops of the mountains, and all the spaces of the heavens were flooded, even the seats of the stars, and all the beasts of the earth were drowned, even the fish and the fowl; and their bodies floated on the face of the waters, then blackened and bloated with rot, then sank again into the seas, upon the wet earth, and even unto the waters beneath the earth: and all the world was rendered formless and void...
1 – Prologue In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth: as his spirit hovered over the face of the waters, he said, "Let there be light", and there was light; and all the rest of the world followed out of the void, like the tail of a comet chasing after a star.
2 – The Schoolboy The air is always flat this time of night, flat and cold and quiet, like the lake outside in wintertime. I slow my breathing down: I don't want to break the ice.
When I go to bed, I never shut my light, a sun lamp. Why does no one let me walk outside? There, the twisted trunks of oak never shift, unlike the shadows of my bed.
Like the shadows of my bed, the wilderness at night is home to creatures fanged and clawed; but outside, at least, the horrors are familiar, real and steady in their motives, while my bed-sheets shelter only water.
I've been swallowed whole before. I remember light, cold moonlight, crashing through the winter ice outside, filling my lungs, choking me, washing away my steady, never failing faith. Then, I was pulled up by the rooster's crow.
3 – The Passionate Youth From the waters and the earth God created man, forming him with his own hands, in his own image: and he breathed in him the Breath of Life, and he blessed him with the Garden of Paradise, and he gave him his Word. Then the LORD God made three women.
The first was formed by the Word of God from the light, and she was the true companion of man; her name was Desire. But Adam saw her creation in his waking: and he found Disgust in her flesh, and Disease in her blood, and Destruction in her bones: and he scorned her. And she left the garden in Despair, and she found refuge in the Dreams of man; she was a Virgin, with perfect youth and beauty.
The second was formed from every inch of flesh and blood and bone of Adam as he slept, and her name was Lilith. She saw herself as the true equal of man: but God knew that she could not cover him to receive his seed, so he exiled her from the garden. And she became the Mother of the Lilin, the demons of the night.
The third was formed from the rib of Adam as he slept, and she was named Eve. And man and woman left the garden together, after they ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil; and man died toiling, as woman grew old, becoming a Bearer of Wisdom.
4 - The Wanderer
We were gathering flowers, you and I,
when we were made one, under the shade
of the pomegranate tree. And the snake
tempted us with song: but our blows were true.
Then mother burned with anger, when she saw
our pale and perfect bodies breeched in wine.
But as we licked our lips, the serpent's blood
filled our throats with song: and we left the garden.
With our love – the drifting scent, the passive cry,
the questions and answers united, mounting high –
we banished all our memories of night, of my bed.
There was only us: no man and woman, only us.
But father only watched, when we left,
when our love released the ocean, when you died,
like a flower bearing fruit, destroyed by love,
drowned in the waters, eaten by the whale.
Our cuckoo songs could not compare to his voice,
his soft but clear commanding voice, the morning sun.
But what made him so mercilessly distant, that he shut
his light and his warmth, his words of wisdom from us?
Never again complete, the warrior and the poet,
in just one man, in just one woman. But the answer:
all our lives, we've been gathering flowers,
you and I. And his eyes twinkle like stars.
5 – The Judge When man lost his arm, his father was reborn, his father the babe with twinkling eyes, and when his father rejoined the heavens, the instrument returned, fully grown: from the blood-red seed of the pomegranate tree to the trunk of the tree of life.
Vanity of vanities! All is vanity– There are no questions to be asked; there are no answers to be given! Death flies at the face of life, as the body returns to the waters and the earth, feeding the woods, the wolves, the carrion beetles, the fish, the fowl– and the spirit flies over the face of the waters, returning to God the breath of life, as the soul falls into the hands of the multitude...
Only comfort. Man lost his arm three times. On the first, he lost his way, but he became a king. On the second, he lost his home, but he received his love. On the third, he lost his father, but he saved the multitude...
Be still: here she comes, walking down the milky way.
6 – The Prophet Today, my navel outshines me, for today, it is a dying star huffing its desperate last breath.
The immense pressure of gravity's hands ever-squeezing its fiery core at last compounds its every facet into a heavy hole in time.
Its shell of gas and light erupts into a splendid rainbow of dust, of carbon and oxygen, iron and nitrogen, of water, earth, wind, and flame, of all the material elements.
And this great cloud of stardust scatters beyond the world of my humble body, beyond the womb of mother earth, beyond the weirs across the heavens, to create a brilliant legacy for its father by calling forth the comet.
7 – Epilogue And the Word of God released the waters above and the waters below. For many days and many nights the windows of the heavens were opened, and the fountains of the earth overflowed; and the waters of death mingled with the waters of life: and the waters swelled and swelled, so that all the surface of the earth was covered, even the tops of the mountains, and all the spaces of the heavens were flooded, even the seats of the stars, and all the beasts of the earth were drowned, even the fish and the fowl; and their bodies floated on the face of the waters, then blackened and bloated with rot, then sank again into the seas, upon the wet earth, and even unto the waters beneath the earth: and all the world was rendered formless and void...
1 – Prologue In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth: as his spirit hovered over the face of the waters, he said, "Let there be light", and there was light; and all the rest of the world followed out of the void, like the tail of a comet chasing after a star.
2 – The Schoolboy The air is always flat this time of night, flat and cold and quiet, like the lake outside in wintertime. I slow my breathing down: I don't want to break the ice.
When I go to bed, I never shut my light, a sun lamp. Why does no one let me walk outside? There, the twisted trunks of oak never shift, unlike the shadows of my bed.
Like the shadows of my bed, the wilderness at night is home to creatures fanged and clawed; but outside, at least, the horrors are familiar, real and steady in their motives, while my bed-sheets shelter only water.
I've been swallowed whole before. I remember light, cold moonlight, crashing through the winter ice outside, filling my lungs, choking me, washing away my steady, never failing faith. Then, I was pulled up by the rooster's crow.
3 – The Passionate Youth From the waters and the earth God created man, forming him with his own hands, in his own image: and he breathed in him the Breath of Life, and he blessed him with the Garden of Paradise, and he gave him his Word. Then the LORD God made three women.
The first was formed by the Word of God from the light, and she was the true companion of man; her name was Desire. But Adam saw her creation in his waking: and he found Disgust in her flesh, and Disease in her blood, and Destruction in her bones: and he scorned her. And she left the garden in Despair, and she found refuge in the Dreams of man; she was a Virgin, with perfect youth and beauty.
The second was formed from every inch of flesh and blood and bone of Adam as he slept, and her name was Lilith. She saw herself as the true equal of man: but God knew that she could not cover him to receive his seed, so he exiled her from the garden. And she became the Mother of the Lilin, the demons of the night.
The third was formed from the rib of Adam as he slept, and she was named Eve. And man and woman left the garden together, after they ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil; and man died toiling, as woman grew old, becoming a Bearer of Wisdom.
4 – The Justice When Man lost his arm, his father was reborn, his father the sinner, the crooked boy: and when his father rejoined the heavens, the instrument returned, fully grown: from the blood-red seed of the pomegranate tree to the trunk of the tree of life.
There are no questions to be asked; there are no answers to be given. Death flies at the face of life, as the body returns to the waters and the earth, feeding the woods, the wolves, the carrion beetles, the fish, the fowl– and the spirit flies over the face of the waters, returning to God the breath of life, as the soul falls into the hands of the multitude...
Only comfort. Man lost his arm three times. On the first, he lost his way, but he became a king. On the second, he lost his home, but he received his love. On the third, he lost his father, but he saved the multitude...
Be still: here she comes, walking down the milky way.
5 – The Prophet Today, my navel outshines me, for today, it is a dying star huffing its desperate last breath.
The immense pressure of gravity's hands ever-squeezing its fiery core at last compounds its every facet into a heavy hole in time.
Its shell of gas and light erupts into a splendid rainbow of dust, of carbon and oxygen, iron and nitrogen, of water, earth, wind, and flame, of all the material elements.
And this great cloud of stardust scatters beyond the world of my humble body, beyond the womb of mother earth, beyond the weirs across the heavens, to create a brilliant legacy for its father by calling forth the comet.
6 – Epilogue And the Word of God released the waters above and the waters below. For many days and many nights the windows of the heavens were opened, and the fountains of the earth overflowed; and the waters of death mingled with the waters of life: and the waters swelled and swelled, so that all the surface of the earth was covered, even the tops of the mountains, and all the spaces of the heavens were flooded, even the seats of the stars, and all the beasts of the earth were drowned, even the fish and the fowl; and their bodies floated on the face of the waters, then blackened and bloated with rot, then sank again into the seas, upon the wet earth, and even unto the waters beneath the earth: and all the world was rendered formless and void...
THE TWO REALMS (Prospective middle section of the "Song of Life")
1 - The Wanderer
You were gathering flowers, hyacinths blood-red,
when I, released from the dreaming, received you.
And under the shade of the pomegranate tree, we were made one.
My mother burned with anger; my father only watched.
There was no past, there was no future: only the present,
incomplete, bound to the law. What did they matter?
Now, as we lie here, upon the white drifts of our bed,
there is only us -- no man, no woman. But I admit:
I did not see you when I dreamed of love. Her hair was red,
like the dawn, like the flowers in your basket, and her eyes
were green, like summer grass. But she was a relic of the night,
while you are real: the sex, the drifting scent, the passive cry,
the questions and answers united, mounting high--
Now, what adventures do we have, on these melting plains
of morning sun? I even lose an arm, ha! to a whale:
but what's an arm to the thousand? And as I rest here, my stump bound
to stop the bleeding, what else can I do, as the spring runs its fever?
Cuckoo, sing! Here comes the summer, another round of flowers.
2 - The Poet
Nothing can compare
to the loss of a beloved,
I tell my father.
His reply: no,
there is a greater. The loss of a son.
It's his weeping, I think,
for my mother -- she burned with fever,
not with anger when we left -- but he shed
no tears, no drops of dew, after the funeral.
It could be the folly of old age,
the vengerful soul of the crooked boy
who never truly left: but my father became a prophet,
not a pantaloon, as he aged,
and his eyes still twinkle like stars.
How different are we, my father and I:
he is quiet, patient, ever watchful,
while I act as if there is no tomorrow.
But his voice is the more commanding,
however soft: with his word,
he made the world,
while what do my songs here bear?
Only vanities. My father only watched
as my beloved died, carrying all our labours.
She was destroyed by love, like a flower bearing seed,
but the fruit is sweet: and my son
has green eyes, twinkling like stars.
SONG OF DEATH
So, the world is round!
It has its ups and downs--
A water-wheel
Guided by the Miller and His Son,
Begotten One.
Round and round the circle goes
With the river's flow,
And how the gears and axles spin,
Guide the milling stone
Grinding corn.
Soon, the spokes break down,
As mold and age corrupt the round--
A brief command!
So arrives the Son
To pull us out.
Then, to each, a place is given:
Either the oven
To cook the family's meal of bread
Or the central hearth To give them warmth.
Slight edits, and since they're so small, I don't really see the need to spoiler the earlier draft. For SONG OF LIFE, added "out of the void" to the prologue for a stronger sense of the ring, removed most of the and's in the third stanza of the justice for a better sense of rhythm, and added "and the waters swelled and swelled" and changed "all the space of the heavens was flooded" to "all the spaces of the heavens were flooded" to and in the epilogue for easing diction. For SONG OF DEATH, changed "Then arrives the Son / and pulls us out" to "So arrives the Son / to pull us out" for a better fit with the next stanza.
Note: I feel like the SONG OF LIFE is missing a nadir, something to expand on the sense of slight misogyny and loss on the third section, to establish some of the symbols of the fourth section, and to root the entire poem to something more concrete, more immediate, but for now, I'm still thinking about how to do it. I am sure, though, that I'll put that in the exact middle of the poem, especially since the bits that need it are right around that area.
Notch- I'm going to let you know how this one hits me piece by piece... see in-line comments:
In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth: as his spirit hovered over the face of the waters, he said, "Let there be light", and there was light; and all the rest of the world followed out of the void, like the tail of a comet chasing after a star. So, we have the Genesis story with a comet added on. A comet being the stuff of life, I see how this relates to your title.
2 – The SchoolboyThe shift from PT1 to PT2 is so jarring that I would be lost unless I knew that several more PTs are yet to follow. What is the set-up that the "The Schoolboy" will perform? Don't know, but the hook has been set quite nicely. The air is always flat this time of night, flat and cold and quiet, like the lake outside The simile lake/air saves the 1st line: "the air is always flat..." Otherwise I'd never get it... in wintertime. I slow my breathing down: OK The lake is frozen I don't want to break the ice. I was wondering where S.1 would lead and appreciate how you wrap it quite effectively
When I go to bed, I never shut my light, [/color] a sun lamp. Why does no one let me walk outside? There, the twisted trunks of oak never shift, unlike the shadows of my bed.HMM... our schoolboy has internal troubles... I am asking, "why is he being cloistered? Why have the invisible parents locked him away? Another hook is set...
Like the shadows of my bed, the wilderness at night is home to creatures fanged and clawed; but outside, at least, the horrors are familiar, real and steady in their motives, while my bed-sheets shelter only water.He's a bed-wetter??
I've been swallowed whole before. I remember light, cold moonlight, crashing through the winter ice outside, filling my lungs, choking me, washing away my steady, never failing faith. Then, I was pulled up by the rooster's crow.Though it took a couple of very well constructed stanzas to get there I see the connection @ "never failing faith". Very effective enjamb @ "...pulled up/ by the rooster's crow[ /b]
[b]PT 2 leaves me with a predicament: I have now been introduced to this schoolboy, who I expect to appear later on in the poem. So, something later on will need to relate back, or I'll be left wondering why this PT 2 is even in this poem.
I''ll tackle PT 3 in my next post...
Dang, 'Notch, this is a lot to digest...
...Mark[/b]
Notch- I continue into PT 3... Mark
3 – The Passionate Youth[b]Our schoolboy has now grown into a "passionate youth". This part's title leads me to believe that all subsequent parts will be speaking about the same person, as that person ages. If I'm wrong about that, then it's too late, because that's where I see this poem heading
From the waters and the earth God created man, forming him with his own hands, in his own image: and he breathed in him the Breath of Life, and he blessed him with the Garden of Paradise, and he gave him his Word. Then the LORD God made three women. He did?? The hook for PT 3 is set.
The first was formed by the Word of God from the light, and she was the true companion of man; her name was Desire. But Adam saw her creation in his waking: and he found Disgust in her flesh, and Disease in her blood, and Destruction in her bones: and he scorned her. And she left the garden in Despair, and she found refuge in the Dreams of man; she was a Virgin, with perfect youth and beauty.
The second was formed from every inch of flesh and blood and bone of Adam as he slept, and her name was Lilith. She saw herself as the true equal of man: but God knew that she could not cover him to receive his seed, so he exiled her from the garden. And she became the Mother of the Lilin, the demons of the night.
The third was formed from the rib of Adam as he slept, and she was named Eve. And man and woman left the garden together, after they ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil; and man died toiling, as woman grew old, becoming a Bearer of Wisdom.
The first two women I am not familiar with, so now know what my limitations are in my reading. The third, of course, is the one we all have heard about. At least anybody with a remote sense of the Christian religion. I am wondering how we got from our schoolboy to this point. Has the schoolboy become someone symbolic of Adam?? In fact, all of PT 3 has the feel of a dream sequence, with the writer conjuring a new myth. For what purpose? Perhaps we shall find out... so I read on... a bit confused now, but still intrigued by the story
I need to re-read PT 4 - The Justice, to try to figure out what is happening. Does the Passionate Youth grow to become a justice, or are we talking about the more abstract justice of it all? [/b]
4 – The Justice
When Man lost his arm, his father was reborn,
his father the sinner, the crooked something symbolic happening here that's going right by my grasp
boy: and when his father rejoined the heavens, the instrument returned,
fully grown: from the blood-red seed of the pomegranate tree
to the trunk of the tree of life. this line draws me back to our schoolboy, and There, the twisted trunks of oak never shift
There are no questions to be asked;
there are no answers to be given.
Death flies at the face of life,
as the body returns to the waters and the earth,
feeding the woods, the wolves, the carrion
beetles, the fish, the fowl–
and the spirit flies over the face of the waters,
returning to God the breath of life,
as the soul falls into the hands of the multitude...This stanza is an interesting interpretation
Only comfort. Man lost his arm three times. hmm... we had 3 women and a repetition of 3 here. Somehow makes me conjure the "holy trinity" in my weak brain
On the first, he lost his way,
but he became a king.
On the second, he lost his home,
but he received his love.
On the third, he lost his father,
but he saved the multitude... this part begs my familiarity with another biblical story, but my memory fails me
Be still: here she comes,
walking down the milky way. Holy mackerel! the first woman returns, the Virgin. From where do I draw this conclusion?? Don't know... but that's how it hit me. Every time I read it. You true intent may be lost on me forever at this point, but too bad, my twisted mind is now making its own sense of this poem
5 – The Prophet Has our schoolboy now grown into The Prophet, or am I so off base now that I'm hopeless as your reader? Doesn't much matter, because I'm still intrigued by whatever is going here.
Today, my navel outshines me, this little hook is going to lead me to big trouble
for today, it is a dying star
huffing its desperate last breath.
The immense pressure of gravity's hands
ever-squeezing its fiery core
at last compounds its every facet
into a heavy hole in time.
Its shell of gas and light erupts
into a splendid rainbow of dust,
of carbon and oxygen, iron and nitrogen,
of water, earth, wind, and flame,
of all the material elements.
And this great cloud of stardust scatters
beyond the world of my humble body, this line reinforces the trouble: I would swear you are talking about cutting a huge. mother-of- creation fart. Did I just say "fart"? Yes I did. See the trouble I've gotten into?
beyond the womb of mother earth,
beyond the weirs across the heavens,
to create a brilliant legacy for its father
by calling forth the comet. YIPES!! Suddenly a reference back to the shortest part: PT 1, where you introduced the comet at the end of the creation story. Is it enough to hold the entire story together for this reader?? Oddly, YES, it does. Not sure how you did that but...
6 – Epilogue
And the Word of God released the waters above and the waters below. For many days and many nights the windows of the heavens were opened, and the fountains of the earth overflowed; and the waters of death mingled with the waters of life: and the waters swelled and swelled, so that all the surface of the earth was covered, even the tops of the mountains, and all the spaces of the heavens were flooded, even the seats of the stars, and all the beasts of the earth were drowned, even the fish and the fowl; and their bodies floated on the face of the waters, then blackened and bloated with rot, then sank again into the seas, upon the wet earth, and even unto the waters beneath the earth: and all the world was rendered formless and void... part 6 brings the great flood. Another biblical story that you've -rewritten rather nicely. So, the Song of Life is the circle of life, and we're back to the beginning... I'll buy it. Don't know why, but it's my mind's money and if I want to spend on appreciation for this poem, then I will...
Dang 'notch, that was like pulling teeth, and possibly of no help. I just wanted to let you know a little bit of how my mind processed this piece, and perhaps that may give you some clues for any further edits. Or not. Oh man... I still need to work through the Death March Song.... I'll get to it ASAI can... Mark
SONG OF DEATH
So, the world is round!
It has its ups and downs--
A water-wheel
Guided by the Miller and His Son,
Begotten One.
Round and round the circle goes
With the river's flow,
And how the gears and axles spin,
Guide the milling stone
Grinding corn.
Soon, the spokes break down,
As mold and age corrupt the round--
A brief command!
So arrives the Son
To pull us out.
Then, to each, a place is given:
Either the oven
To cook the family's meal of bread
Or the central hearth
To give them warmth.[/b]
Massive thanks to you, Mark! Your show of your process will really help me see if what I want to say is being heard (though, me being me, I don't really have that much to say).
Scientifically, a comet is the stuff of life, what with all the water and organic compounds in it, but most superstitions that I know of regard it as a terrible element, and when a comet hits one's face, naturally it hurts, so it's really meant to be more than just that.
The Prologue, as you have noted, is stolen from the Bible; the second part is stolen from an older poem, titled "Night Terrors", that I finished here a few months ago. All of the parts are actually so stolen, though the fourth and all the bits from the Bible, I've not posted here independently; thus the somewhat independent sets of symbols.
I thought of the first part as simply a different way of looking at innocence, as a sort of forbidding, imprisoning darkness instead of light, but your giving more importance to it makes sense -- I suppose when I add the nadir (and your process has convinced me so), I'll elaborate.
Bed-wetter? Lol, no. But I won't change that. That's more the metaphor of the lake (and, expanding the scope to the entire poem, the waters of death) being merged with the idea of the bed; regardless of your rather humorous point, I'll keep it.
That's exactly where the poem is heading. At this point, actually, I've been somewhat following Shakespeare's seven acts of man, but I merged the Lover and the Warrior into the Passionate Youth because they are essentially both passionate businesses, but the nadir will split that.
The story of the three women is based (well, stolen) off of Neil Gaiman's Sandman (and his story, he himself stole from Jewish Tradition and a bunch of Ancient Greek woman cults), though I removed the bit about Adam being a hermaphrodite (that's a bit in the Lilith story), and I removed a lot of the detail on the Eve story. I suppose the feel of the dream sequence, though not intended, works: I had three intentions for this part, one of which ties to such a feel. The first is to mirror the stories of the first three parts (Virgin from the light, Mother of the demons of the night, and the Destruction of Innocence); the second, a level that I don't think showed so well, is to show the speaker's journey through the world of women (he learned about love, but only as a fantasy; he found himself rejecting his mother, for the sake of a lover; and he found his lover, but was forced out of the garden by his father); and the third, obviously to prefigure the next parts.
The Passionate Youth does turn into the Justice, as per the seven acts. I was considering using "The Judge" instead, but it sounded rather odd; however, once I add the nadir, I'll retitle it.
The poem originally is a bit of a lamentation for the loss of a friend's father, but I decided to rework it for this because it works so. It's inspired by the story of Finn the human (I love Adventure Time; it's not really just a kid's show anymore), and how he found his father, and lost his arm in the process, then how his father attained a higher form of existence, as he saved the world. The symbol of the arm would be better clarified in the nadir (the added fourth part), I think, but for now, it's really just a symbol of the sudden feeling of helplessness that comes with adulthood; losing an arm usually means that way, in the media where I've seen it.
Yes! It's absolutely meant to echo that, as well as (more obviously) the story of Adam and Eve. The Tree of Life, well, if you know your Bible (or at least your Bereishit) well, that's why Adam and Eve were expelled from the garden; the pomegranate tree, well, besides being the traditional fruit of the underworld, I remember reading that the fruit of the tree of knowledge and good and evil was once accepted to be the pomegranate.
You might be thinking of a bunch of Jesus stories, but that interpretation I think is slightly irrelevant: though I wrote those three new parts as a reflection of Jewish history (well, Christian: the first is the fall of man and the establishment of the kingdom, the second is the diaspora and the return, the third is essentially the arrival of Christ; though the story is more Gnostic, because here the Word of God is considered to be already with man), and that reflection is meant to expand the story a good deal in scope, it's not that needed. The "trinity" reference could work, and I guess it would be the most obvious bit, but I had no intention of putting that in when I conjured this up (then again, the first refers to a king, God the Father, the second to a love (a husband), the Messiah, and the third to someone saving the multitude, the Holy Spirit, so...)
That's novel! My intention was the comet, not the Virgin, but that could work. (why is the comet female? because the comet was essentially equated with the world in the very first part, and the world, or at least the earth here, is female. I wrote "the comet comes" at an earlier draft, but I decided that felt too redundant)
The speaker has grown into a "Prophet", yes. I would have gone with "The Pantaloon", but that would mean the same thing (some old wise guy), only in a more archaic fashion; the other, "The Poet", but lately I've been conflating the two, and doesn't "the Prophet" simply sound better? The story, at this point, is a prophecy, since this does talk about the coming of death, and who can speak so when dying?
The original draft of this poem is about a fart, but it was too cosmic to keep existing so (especially as complained by a bunch of peeps here).
And here we are, right at the round of the ring. A play at the multiple meanings of "the comet": then, it was the time to be born, now, it's the time to die. Or, at least, in the now being envisioned by the Prophet.
It's both back to the beginning, and a whole 'nother beginning, too: with the comet (made up of ice, hehehe) having returned the speaker is now dead, and his whole world is being reborn, either for the sake of his reincarnation, or for the sake of his children (the multitude). The second poem clarifies that I'm no heretic, but because it has a slightly different set of symbols, and it doesn't really fit the narrative, I consider it separate. So you got this poem nigh perfectly -- but for the parts that you didn't get, especially the oddities of the third and fourth parts, I'll make the proper accommodations with the nadir, The Warrior. (or The Father; I'm not really sure, I've not the time to write it yet). Again, massive thanks, and this has really, really been helpful!
On my comments regarding the first parts, I am stunned by only one comment: The original draft of this poem is about a fart, but it was too cosmic to keep existing so (especially as complained by a bunch of peeps here).
You must be shittin me. Wasn't as far off base as I thought... Then, what to make of it? I guess it's all shit for the flowers (stolen, paraphrased quote)
SONG OF DEATH
So, the world is round!
It has its ups and downs--We've got brand new meter and fresh sonics working here, and you start out by stating the obvious, which is fine by me
A water-wheel
Guided by the Miller and His Son, God as the miller, of course. One of the most ancient of human occupations
Begotten One. and now we have Jesus
Round and round the circle goes
With the river's flow,
And how the gears and axles spin,
Guide the milling stone
Grinding corn.grinding corn, of course, one of the most ancient of sustenance foods
Soon, the spokes break down,
As mold and age corrupt the round--
A brief command!
So arrives the Son
To pull us out.Jesus arrives and the hook is set for the action that follows...
Then, to each, a place is given: As far as "each" goes, you must be referring to only two, as evidenced by what follows. So who are the two? To me, and with Jesus in consideration they would be, 1)believers in Jesus, or 2)non-believers
Either the oven My first impression is of Jews and the holocaust.
To cook the family's meal of bread
Or the central hearthMy impression is of Jews as slaves
To give them warmth
So where is #2 of the "each"? They are the Christian family...
That's how I see this part, and I'll stick with my first impressions for now. I'm too dang lazy to research further...
So, there ya go 'notch... the whole ball-o-wax as it sounds when it twacks upside my ears
I won't just edit over my first impression, because I feel it is important to let the writer know that interpretations by the reader are very easily influenced by single words, such as "oven".
My 2nd take on the Death Song is that Jesus is addressing two needs of humans: 1)awareness of human frailty, like hunger ("family meal of bread") + 2)awareness of the spiritual side ("central hearth/to give them warmth").
More simply put: the family has HUMAN and DIVINE components
Of something close to that.
I have moved on to my 2md interpretation, as I feel it is closer to what the words mean to me. I emphasize "what the words mean to me" because, regardless the intent of the writer, any given reader will make an interpretation based upon the use and placement of words (by the writer), and what the reader processes as those words hit the retina (or ear).
The above statement is something that I struggle with constantly when writing, and is largely responsible for why I write in much shorter form now, always understanding that a single word can be interpreted several ways.
I wish you the best as you strive to complete this piece, and feel that you are very close. Of course, this poem will never be "done", but it is polished enough that it shines, in my eyes...
That's 'nuff smoke up yer under, and 'nuff said by me,
... Mark
(09-10-2015, 10:36 AM)Mark A Becker Wrote: Alrighty then 'notch-
On my comments regarding the first parts, I am stunned by only one comment: The original draft of this poem is about a fart, but it was too cosmic to keep existing so (especially as complained by a bunch of peeps here).
You must be shittin me. Wasn't as far off base as I thought... Then, what to make of it? I guess it's all shit for the flowers (stolen, paraphrased quote)
SONG OF DEATH
So, the world is round!
It has its ups and downs--We've got brand new meter and fresh sonics working here, and you start out by stating the obvious, which is fine by me
A water-wheel
Guided by the Miller and His Son, God as the miller, of course. One of the most ancient of human occupations
Begotten One. and now we have Jesus
Round and round the circle goes
With the river's flow,
And how the gears and axles spin,
Guide the milling stone
Grinding corn.grinding corn, of course, one of the most ancient of sustenance foods
Soon, the spokes break down,
As mold and age corrupt the round--
A brief command!
So arrives the Son
To pull us out.Jesus arrives and the hook is set for the action that follows...
Then, to each, a place is given: As far as "each" goes, you must be referring to only two, as evidenced by what follows. So who are the two? To me, and with Jesus in consideration they would be, 1)believers in Jesus, or 2)non-believers
Either the oven My first impression is of Jews and the holocaust.
To cook the family's meal of bread
Or the central hearthMy impression is of Jews as slaves
To give them warmth
So where is #2 of the "each"? They are the Christian family...
That's how I see this part, and I'll stick with my first impressions for now. I'm too dang lazy to research further...
So, there ya go 'notch... the whole ball-o-wax as it sounds when it twacks upside my ears
The Song of Death. I'm happy you thought of the holocaust for the oven (isn't that, like, a pun?), though I'm a bit unsure if your thinking of the Hebrews' bondage for the second bit is any good -- that was the key danger of the whole thing, I thought, that since the speaker considered both post-life fates to be fires, the hearth might be thought of as a second punishment. The two you thought of was generally correct, though, but notice the lack of any mentions of faith -- another thing which I'm not sure is a deficiency or an enlightening ambiguity, in a not-strictly-theological sense, of course.
The family? I'm just a bit confused as to whether you're referring to the divine family (for which the wheel spins) or the whole idea of family. Although, your interpretation of the double-sided aspect of the family is right, I suppose, if you were referring to the divine family, in it being either human or divine -- and so, that ultimately, man and woman will be given either their meat or their spirits, according to--well, again, the lack of mentions of faith...
But again, thank you! I think, for the Song of Death, I'll have to think of a way to make the theology of the second point sounder, or at least more conformist -- the earlier song can very well do without such ambiguities, since it should soon be given a greater, er, empirical foundation (and, even without that, its description of life never really fully steps over to the spiritual realm, I think), but this second feels somewhat incomplete still, in hindsight.
After a bit of a rush (no drugs were involved -- only an intensive regimen of reading poetry, my phycology textbook, and a collection of readings by various political philosophers, all while school and my social life intruded), here's the draft to the middle part, "The Two Realms", which I consider to be considerably worse than the earlier. But, at this point, I wanna finish this as early as possible, because I might be joining a poetry slam next week with this, and I have no time to edit as deliberately as with the earlier. I edited it into the first post, but it's here, too, just spoiler'd.
THE TWO REALMS
1 - The Wanderer
You were gathering flowers, hyacinths blood-red,
when I, released from the dreaming, received you.
And under the shade of the pomegranate tree, we were made one.
My mother burned with anger; my father only watched.
There was no past, there was no future: only the present,
incomplete, bound to the law. What did they matter?
Now, as we lie here, upon the white drifts of our bed,
there is only us -- no man, no woman. But I admit:
I did not see you when I dreamed of love. Her hair was red,
like the dawn, like the flowers in your basket, and her eyes
were green, like summer grass. But she was a relic of the night,
while you are real: the sex, the drifting scent, the passive cry,
the questions and answers united, mounting high--
Now, what adventures do we have, on these melting plains
of morning sun? I even lose an arm, ha! to a whale:
but what's an arm to the thousand? And as I rest here, my stump bound
to stop the bleeding, what else can I do, as the spring runs its fever?
Cuckoo, sing! Here comes the summer, another round of flowers.
2 - The Poet
Nothing can compare
to the loss of a beloved,
I tell my father.
His reply: no,
there is a greater. The loss of a son.
It's his weeping, I think,
for my mother -- she burned with fever,
not with anger when we left -- but he shed
no tears, no drops of dew, after the funeral.
It could be the folly of old age,
the vengerful soul of the crooked boy
who never truly left: but my father became a prophet,
not a pantaloon, as he aged,
and his eyes still twinkle like stars.
How different are we, my father and I:
he is quiet, patient, ever watchful,
while I act as if there is no tomorrow.
But his voice is the more commanding,
however soft: with his word,
he made the world,
while what do my songs here bear?
Only vanities. My father only watched
as my beloved died, carrying all our labours.
She was destroyed by love, like a flower bearing seed,
but the fruit is sweet: and my son
has green eyes, twinkling like stars.
I've pared down the two realms (from ten stanzas to six, all with only four lines), so now I'm editing it in, with a few changes to the segment titles, plus a relatively minor change to the Judge, taking into account Mark's note.
