Temptation

[Guest Xradion]

Two women sit

At opposite ends of a room

Each looking equally seductive

In the light of the new moon.

 

One is pale as snow,

Draped in a dark satin vale;

The other is ebony,

Wearing a silver mail.

 

They both gaze forward,

Beckoning me to step towards them,

But I know I can choose just one,

And so, my dilemma has begun.

 

Seductive sirens, they seem,

Yet something in their eyes

Doth Gleam

In a wicked way.

 

Teeming pools of light

Fill my sight,

And suddenly, I am appalled

By what I see before me.

 

A gnarled old crone

Sits at one end of the room,

And even more hideous

Is that infernal tune

 

That slips from her

Sister’s lips

Across the hall,

Full of gall.

 

"Make your choice. Darkness

In light, or light

In shadow, only you

Know what’s right."

 

Over and over again,

Incessantly she did sing

And so it was at her

That my blade first did swing.

 

I unsheathed my heart for a saber,

And used my soul for a shield

As the room became a battlefield

On which their blood would be spilled.

 

At the one wearing the mail

I did rush,

Yet she didn’t so much as blush

As my heart crossed her body.

 

And she shattered, splattered,

Into smithereens;

Exploded, imploded,

All at once, it seems.

 

And in her place stood her sister,

With malice in her eyes,

An old hag draped in darkness;

It was her I truly despised.

 

"So you have made your choice.

A fool you are, indeed.

So let’s away to limbo

On my nightmare steed."

 

I struck her with my sword,

But the demon would not fall,

And she shattered my shield

With the heat of a falling star.

 

"Your love no longer matters,

The choice, you did make.

And in so carelessly doing,

Your love you did forsake."

 

And I cried up to the heavens,

Forgiveness, I did beg.

And my heart healed, and my soul shield

Shimmered in the sun.

 

The morning light freed me

From my plight, the sky

Was blue anew.

 

And never again would I forsake my

Love, for I knew

My love was true.

 

But somewhere behind the ebony voice

I heard her sister still.

Tempting me to kill,

Filling me with ill will.

 

I would not fall for her tricks again,

Though many tongues, she did speak,

And yet I knew that someday,

With her I was doomed to sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Xradion,

The Horny Druid,

Scholar of the Ancient Arts,

Holder of the Eye of Odin.

 

"The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream."

-Wallace Stevens

 

"When at home, do as the Homans do." –Xradion

[Gyrfalcon]

*Gyrfalcon applauds* What else can I offer but...

 

wow.

[Nyyark]

Interesting, I do like it.

 

Did you intend them to symbolize just the temptation of the flesh, or did the hit on other things as well? I wasn't really sure. (I feel like I'm cheating being able to ask the author)

 

I thought your use of imagry was really good. Are you thinking of becoming a proffesional poet? I thought I understood that from some of your other posts.

[Guest Xradion]

        Thanks for your response. And don't feel like you're "cheating." In truth, I enjoy discussing my poems, but not until after I've given others a chance to look at them first.

 

        In this poem, I the two women symbolize life and death (I mentioned this in a response to a poem by Falcon 2001). Life is dark skinned, full of the melanin of life, and protected by a fragile silver mail (another symbol of mortality). Death (subscribing to a somewhat more traditional image) is a pale woman wearing a vale of mourning. For a time, Death is able to appear just as appealing as life to the subject. However, the subject is able to see through her guise, but quickly becomes repulsed by both life and death. Death tricks the subject into killing his own life (by projecting her voice into her sister's throat) with his heart, his passion. In the process, his soul is shattered by death, as she prepares to carry him away to the underworld. In the end, the subject repents, and is granted a second chance at life, knowing that he will nevertheless one day return to the grave. Overall, a tale of love and passion with an ominous ending.

 

        I think this is actually one of my more subtle poems (despite the more obvious references to the heart saber and soul shield). It is also one of the poems I spent the longest thinking about.

 

        One motif that is quite common in my poetry is that of duality of man, and the duality of passion. In the words of Nathaniel Hawthorne (The Scarlet Letter), "It is a curious subject of observation and inquiry, whether hatred and love be not the same thing at bottom. Each, in its utmost development, supposes a high degree of intimacy and heart-knowledge; each renders one individual dependent for the food of his affections and spiritual life upon another; each leaves the passionate lover, or the no less passionate hater, forlorn and desolate by the withdrawal of his object. Philosophically considered, therefore, the two passions seem essentially the same, except that one happens to be seen in a celestial radiance, and the other in a dusky and lurid glow." I only wish I had that man’s eloquence (Hawthorne is one of my many favorite authors).

 

        On another note, yes, I am considering trying to become a professional poet at present. My problem is that I can never decide on just one thing. For a while, I wanted to be a nuclear physicist (until I realized the math was WAAAAYYY over my head). I am currently considering a major in either English or Comparative Literature (gotta have some other career, as poets make no money). I think that, while it may seem strange, my interest in poetry and physics stem from the same essential drive to better understand the world around me. Before, I thought that physics would help me do this, but now, I am more interested in metaphysics and semiotics (the study of any formal system of signs, and of symbolism in general). I ultimately put more stock in science, but I think that art (whether written, performing, musical, or visual) can help us better understand the essence of humanity, what to me is the human spirit. This is something science cannot achieve, due to it's very nature of not asking, "what if?"

 

        There has been a shift towards the humanities in recent months. I don’t know if it has to do with September 11, the slump in the economy, the fall of several dot-coms, or the resurgence of underground art and music, or something else. But it makes me very happy to see (and to be a part) of all the young talent out there as an aspiring 19-year-old poet. My advice to everyone: keep up the writing, and READ THE CLASSICS! A year ago, my poetry was virtually non-existent, and it took me forever to get anything on the paper. Then, after reading several Latin American poets (José Martí, Neruda, Gabriela Mistral, Vicente Huidobro, Rubén Dario), and studying their poetic techniques carefully, my own poetry improved. Since then, I have adapted a sort of "Jeet Kune Do (Bruce Lee martial arts system)" approach to poetry. I try out various poetic techniques, and throw out what I don’t like or what is useless to me, keeping only what works well. Of course, my poetry is also greatly influenced by underground hip-hop, the bible, and children’s stories. I’m not saying, "be a copy-cat." What I am saying is that learning from the past masters is the key to developing your own, unique style.

 

        Wow!! That was a long, self-indulgent harangue. Sorry about that. Man, since when am I so pompous? And why do I keep mentioning it? Daaaaa! Now you’re all going to think I’m some kind of pompous punk. Oh well. Thanks for your interest Nyyark, and sorry for this super-long response. As you can see, I’m kind of lonely right now, I suppose. Until next time...

 

 

 

 

Xradion,

The Horny Druid,

Scholar of the Ancient Arts,

Holder of the Eye of Odin.

 

"The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream."

-Wallace Stevens

 

"When at home, do as the Homans do." –Xradion

[The Portrait of Zool]

Wow! Great feedback on great feedback on a great poem. Things are looking up at the Pen!

~Zool~

 

Ancient, The Pen is Mightier than the Sword.

 

Bard of Terra, Patron Saint of Aspiring Bards.

 

Elder than dirt, more foolish than a jester, able to trip over the smallest logic in a single step. It's... Oh, you know.

[Guest Xradion]

Xradion,

The Horny Druid,

Scholar of the Ancient Arts,

Holder of the Eye of Odin.

 

"The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream."

-Wallace Stevens

 

"When at home, do as the Homans do." –Xradion

 

 

 

Edited by: Xradion at: 5/9/02 3:46:55 am