This Poem was Submitted By: Jason S. Moore On Date: 2005-08-15 22:54:52 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
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Retrieval
Within the bowels of the underworld
I pass a lonely shade -
Transparent, tired, yet still a man
As his light begins to fade.
Suddenly earthen walls resound
Throughout the chasms here.
Within my heart the chambers pound,
Swept in an instant with fear.
As the apparition turns his face
Revealing sockets without eyes,
I look away to wander deeper
Not to run but to survive.
The shadows follow at my speed…
No footsteps but my own -
Farther still into the caverns -
Alert and not alone,
I come across a glistening stream
That feeds a tempting pool -
Fighting thirst for Lethe lays here
Forgotten to weary fools.
Struggling for strength, I find a map
Lay hidden within my mind.
Slowly the maze unravels itself
With foreboding darkness divine.
My torchlight rises to guide the way.
Then silhouettes appear
Dancing wicked along the walls
Around a massive throne austere.
No crown upon the Accuser's head.
Demeter's daughter sits silent - congealed
As if chance had granted her this day
And Pandora's "hope" is revealed.
I do not bow but greet his gaze
With poise and guided hand
As counsel to another cause
And mother to every man.
No cloak or dagger for Hades -
Just a message with a simple request.
He reads the words and laughs aloud
Not in defiance or in jest.
"It cannot be," he thunders quickly,
"It is not already time.
The sun and moon still seek the chills
Of winter's bitter clime."
"Not so," I answer, boldly now,
"The buds cry out to breathe.
Artemis is dressed for battle
With arrows and no reprieve."
He waves a hand, "And so it goes…
May time at once stand still
So I may kiss my wife good-bye
And man may plant and till."
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Copyright © August 2005 Jason S. Moore
This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2005-09-07 08:14:15
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.97222
So good to see you back Jason
Within the bowels of the underworld
I pass a lonely shade -
Transparent, tired, yet still a man
As his light begins to fade.
good mysterious opening that draws us in
Suddenly earthen walls resound
Throughout the chasms here.
Within my heart the chambers pound,
Swept in an instant with fear.
reminds me of Plato's cave - good rhythm, rhyme
As the apparition turns his face
Revealing sockets without eyes,
I look away to wander deeper
Not to run but to survive.
a calm walking away from the fear - excellent image
The shadows follow at my speed…
No footsteps but my own -
Farther still into the caverns -
Alert and not alone,
I come across a glistening stream
That feeds a tempting pool -
Fighting thirst for Lethe lays here
Forgotten to weary fools.
sudenly the image becomes transcendent - a hallmark of your work
Struggling for strength, I find a map
Lay hidden within my mind.
Slowly the maze unravels itself [wonderful image! That maze "unraveling!}
With foreboding darkness divine.
My torchlight rises to guide the way.
Then silhouettes appear
Dancing wicked along the walls
Around a massive throne austere.
a throne that massive - yet austere really intersting contradicion in step with
the suble sustained metaphor
No crown upon the Accuser's head.
Demeter's daughter sits silent - congealed [congealed? - or concealed?}
As if chance had granted her this day
And Pandora's "hope" is revealed.
I like the way your throw in a specific mythology which opens up whole new doors of meaning within the poem
I do not bow but greet his gaze
With poise and guided hand
As counsel to another cause
And mother to every man. [interesting gender choice here]
No cloak or dagger for Hades -
Just a message with a simple request.
He reads the words and laughs aloud
Not in defiance or in jest.
"It cannot be," he thunders quickly,
"It is not already time.
The sun and moon still seek the chills
Of winter's bitter clime."
"Not so," I answer, boldly now,
"The buds cry out to breathe. [excellent image!}]
Artemis is dressed for battle
With arrows and no reprieve."
He waves a hand, "And so it goes…
May time at once stand still
So I may kiss my wife good-bye
And man may plant and till."
the last line is inspired and neatly ends the epic poem, Great work Jason
This Poem was Critiqued By: Latorial D. Faison On Date: 2005-09-05 12:36:23
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.95122
Jason,
The beauty of this poem lies within the carefully carved rhythms, the ebb and flow of each line. You tell a story and do it well within the confines of a perfectly penned poem. Nothing is jagged or forced when it comes to these lines.
There are so many elements in this poem that make it a beautiful read. For a while, I thought it was a scene from hell, but as the poem goes on, I see the mystical nature of the story.
Great job. Thanks for sharing. It was a poetic and well planned piece.
Latorial
www.latorialfaison.com
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-08-23 16:41:55
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.71429
Jason,
I think this is a bout with a man/getting older/his mind/and his demons.
Everything seems to come from his imaginaton.'no footsteps but my own'/'lay hidden in my mind'.
'It is not already time' leads me to think his life may be ending, he must kiss his wife goodbye.
Like a bad dream he saw his flaws and accepted his truth. But because it's a dream, he's learned/hence
the repreive.
I especially like: The sun and moon still seek the chills
Of winter's bitter clime."
Love your writing. Everything flows on effortlessly/I saw no glitches. Your rhymes seemed uncontrived.
When I count syllables theres some discrepancies but it doesn't affect anything. What a gifted
poet....
Great job.
Dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joyce P. Hale On Date: 2005-08-20 06:22:28
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.70000
Jason, I won't pretend to understand all you are saying here, but I like it very much. I've read it three times, and paused on the verses, and find them intriguing and easy on the ear. I love the imagery and mystery of the trek, without necessarily knowing why.
*As the apparition turns his face
Revealing sockets without eyes,
I look away to wander deeper
Not to run but to survive.
The shadows follow at my speed…
No footsteps but my own -
Farther still into the caverns -
Alert and not alone,
........
I do not bow but greet his gaze
With poise and guided hand
As counsel to another cause
And mother to every man.*
I love the guts, persistence and ability to go on despite fear of your character.
Hope springs eternal, as does the season in your unique write. Well done. Joyce
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2005-08-19 09:20:50
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Jason,
We have replaced the pregnant and imaginative mythos (in plural, mythoses? - sounds like a disease - what say you, Greek - or as President Bush would say, "Grecian" - I think the Prez revealed his Christian roots and faith in that - pick up any good 'ole KJV and you'll see some "Grecians" - anyway that's the way I would have spun it if I was one of the Prez' PR guys during that campaign many moons ago - to get back to where I began . . . scholar (go back about 30 or 40 words where I'm calling you a "Greek . . . scholar") - and now to go back further to the beginning of this all - with (that which replaces the displaced mythoses) reality tv (in place of Aeschylus and Sophocles), Paris Hilton (in place of Aprhodite), and . . . enough already.
You keep the Greek alive, I'll try to keep the great Catholic mythos of the Middle Ages alive. I'll meet you around the time of St. Augustine. :) Maybe you can find a ship and we'll go off like two argonauts (you got the name, pal) together, back through the gates of time.
Good to hear from you again. When we say things that are somewhat critical around here, people get very touchy. I will say this, then, and duck: there are some spots where the meter is choppy. But not too much for the craft you're in, which can handle anything.
Peace,
Mark
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2005-08-17 15:17:35
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Jason,
Some long poems get boring and I have a tendency to move on to something more terse...however this one captivated me from the first two lines and I was compelled to continue to the very last word. In the beginning, since it is written in the first person, I thought you had really experienced this but soon learned that it is about the Gods of the underworld...thank heavens! Your rhyme scheme is delicious and flows easily from one line to the other...never seeming forced for sake of the rhyme....'as the apariition turns his face revealing sockets without eyes' is chilling but an amazing line...struggling for strength, I find a map lay hidden within my mind...love this line..I am sure we all have many hidden maps, the trick is to dredge them up on command..then silhouettes appear dancing wicked along the walls...gives me goose bumps!
...the sun and moon still seek the still seek the chills of winter's bitter clime...I really wish I had written this line...fabulous...these are just a few of the lines I find especially intriguing along with many more. A wonderful poem that is sure to be a winner....I know I will return to it several times! Well done...bravo! I hope I can read more from your pen soon.
Peace...Marilyn
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-08-16 15:59:46
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Jason:
What great good fortune that you have graced us with one
of your beautifully-crafted poems after this long interval.
I hope I can do this one justice. Mythology is truly a
fascinating subject, and with your unique perspective.
I especially enjoy poems written from the first person
point of view, as it is then possible to feel, at least
vicariously, what the writer/protagonist experiences.
Retrieval – I like this title, as it suggests salvaging
of something, repossession or reclamation. It is
intriguing and I like the sounds of it. It proclaims
‘adventure’ to me. And I am keen for those. It doesn't
give away the plot, but certainly implies the rescue of
Persephone, and us, along the way.
Within the bowels of the underworld
I pass a lonely shade -
Transparent, tired, yet still a man
As his light begins to fade.
Interestingly, the planet Pluto is thought to rule
the underworld, corresponding to the Roman equivalent
of Hades. In medical astrology, Pluto is thought to
pertain to the bowels, as an aside. I am intrigued by
this ‘lonely shade’ who is transparent, yet “still a man.”
How many of us are exhausted by our lives, and feel
transparent, feel our lights begin to fade? How many
are lonely, isolated by a different point of view or
perception that does not match that of those who
focus ostensibly on consensus reality? I can’t seem to
get away from my own asides today, perhaps I am
proceeding a bit cautiously, as we are entering the
realm of Hades! I have got to see what is causing this
fading.
Suddenly earthen walls resound
Throughout the chasms here.
Within my heart the chambers pound,
Swept in an instant with fear.
Now the speaker resonates to sounds from the earthen walls.
Immediately I think of earthquakes I have experienced and
feel a sympathetic, quickened heartbeat for the speaker. How
quickly we recall our humanity when Nature asserts her forces,
not under our control. But is the resounding of the walls
a natural or supernatural event? We will not be kept in suspense
for long, though, but long enough to have chills form, as we
see what lies ahead.
As the apparition turns his face
Revealing sockets without eyes,
I look away to wander deeper
Not to run but to survive.
It seems as though the speaker is not running on adrenaline,
but at a spiritual crossroads, one which signifies survival
or a life passage which must be met. One of those Plutonian
events which is relentlessly present; though we may run,
we cannot hide and so running, ipso facto, is pointless.
The shadows follow at my speed…
No footsteps but my own -
Farther still into the caverns -
Alert and not alone,
What shadows of our own making, writer, follow us. You give
me pause for reflection. I cannot help but think of the Dweller
on the Threshold, that enigmatic being said to consist of all of
the negative energy we have ever entertained, given a form. But
you show us that the speaker is “not alone” so it cannot be the
amalgamation of his own making which haunts him now.
I come across a glistening stream
That feeds a tempting pool -
Fighting thirst for Lethe lays here
Forgotten to weary fools.
The speaker wants to drink the ‘waters of forgetfulness’ and you include
an ironic pun -- “Forgotten to weary fools” for those who may have
forgotten. Forgotten of the meaning of “Lethe” those waters of legend
which if consumed, erase all memory of previous life(lives). White
lightning with an extreme kickback.
Struggling for strength, I find a map
Lay hidden within my mind.
Slowly the maze unravels itself
With foreboding darkness divine.
I love this stanza, because it suggests that we have ‘maps’ within, hidden
in our own minds. No external authorities, nor books, nor universities can
contain the wisdom of our own soul, our Inner Light, you seem to be
showing us here. I especially love L4. “darkness divine” – that place
which we most fear to enter. You lead us there, individually and
collectively, to examine, along with the speaker, what contents
reveal themselves for our consideration.
My torchlight rises to guide the way.
Then silhouettes appear
Dancing wicked along the walls
Around a massive throne austere.
Great alliteration with “wicked/walls” and throughout the poem.
The poetics are such that they give no distraction from the
action which is taking place, but are noteworthy. Your rhyming,
for example, has a mesmerizing tone, like a spell cast. <smile>
I want to ‘see’ this throne! Or do I? I fear to and desire to all
at once.
No crown upon the Accuser's head.
Demeter's daughter sits silent - congealed
As if chance had granted her this day
And Pandora's "hope" is revealed.
Persephone sitting in silence.
Pandora, in Greek mythology, was the first woman, if I recall.
Was she sent by the gods for vengeance toward Prometheus’s
theft of fire?
I do not bow but greet his gaze
With poise and guided hand
As counsel to another cause
And mother to every man.
Who carries the title of “mother to every man” and
is a messenger to Hades that his season is quickly
drawing to a close? Do we know her, do we honor her?
No cloak or dagger for Hades -
Just a message with a simple request.
He reads the words and laughs aloud
Not in defiance or in jest.
This husband , god of the underworld, conducts himself with
typical all-powerful hubris. He forgets, just like we all do, as
husbands sometimes do, the power of a simple request. <smile>
"It cannot be," he thunders quickly,
"It is not already time.
The sun and moon still seek the chills
Of winter's bitter clime."
"Not so," I answer, boldly now,
"The buds cry out to breathe.
Artemis is dressed for battle
With arrows and no reprieve."
The Earth-Mother speaks, boldly now, and cannot be dissuaded
for even Hades must yield to her.
He waves a hand, "And so it goes…
May time at once stand still
So I may kiss my wife good-bye
And man may plant and till."
Persephone having spent her half of the year with Hades in the underworld,
congealed, but will she rise again, this time to spend the other half on Earth
with Demeter. How surprised is Hades! (Pluto) And it is so remarkable that
we are surprised at the changing of seasons, the cyclical nature of our own
existence. The small signs of fall which even now are apparent, the shorter
days, all tell us that our time above the Earth is growing shorter, but we
continue as if we know not what this means. Our lives continue at a
fast pace, and yet we are surprised as the years pass, and at our
accumulation of experiences and years, as if ‘no time’ had passed.
Magnificent poem and a great read. Thank you for the privilege of
commenting on this, and though I may have missed some cues, I’ve
enjoyed this immensely.
Best always,
Joanne
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