Post by contention on Feb 28, 2006 17:53:12 GMT -5
Be wed thine embers
Of an ashy trail;
Consumed by folly
Remorse to tell.
Sought in blind eye,
Lost in the sight;
Bewitches the dawn
Of a tale-tale night.
Traversed bed
Of wilted molest;
Upon which looms
The Raven’s nest.
Sickle Scythe
Of an arrows dart
Doth pierce thine chest
And cross mine heart.
Dead at the breath,
Still to the sound;
That sweet soft tune
Which travels ‘round.
Wicked played,
Brightly shown;
An instrument bent
That echoes the tone.
Notes spared
To the trebled song
Doth play their staff
And travel along
Established to hark,
Constructed to brand;
For this is our home
And we are the band.
Wombs behold
That final spell,
When next step drawn
Completes our hell.
Into the furnace
Caught on the heath
Where flames do burn
Our faces discreet.
Melting, dripping
Smears the lip;
Gliding it down
From tip to tip
Such is love,
Love is life;
Love is the power,
Love is the strife.
Of an ashy trail;
Consumed by folly
Remorse to tell.
Sought in blind eye,
Lost in the sight;
Bewitches the dawn
Of a tale-tale night.
Traversed bed
Of wilted molest;
Upon which looms
The Raven’s nest.
Sickle Scythe
Of an arrows dart
Doth pierce thine chest
And cross mine heart.
Dead at the breath,
Still to the sound;
That sweet soft tune
Which travels ‘round.
Wicked played,
Brightly shown;
An instrument bent
That echoes the tone.
Notes spared
To the trebled song
Doth play their staff
And travel along
Established to hark,
Constructed to brand;
For this is our home
And we are the band.
Wombs behold
That final spell,
When next step drawn
Completes our hell.
Into the furnace
Caught on the heath
Where flames do burn
Our faces discreet.
Melting, dripping
Smears the lip;
Gliding it down
From tip to tip
Such is love,
Love is life;
Love is the power,
Love is the strife.
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If I could explain my disfavor of this poem, I would come in some sort of effort to make it in standard vernacular. However, for some reason this poem was built with no real true boundary but an emotional spur at the moment of hand. This piece has no true hard influence, but was merely built up through a prolonged downfall of attitude. Because of this, I dishold this piece due to its nature of having no true goal within its message. However, after reading it a few times, I have managed to scrap together a few thoughts of which I beheld I believe at the very first and let loose as the pen went and my hand and mind just seemed to follow alongside.
The first stanza plays on the words of ashes and consuming them, for some reason I held this image to be a subject of jealousy and emotion; sort of in the essence of sin. This play on it more less states that one would take in these dreary things and hold no remorse as to using them. Sort of human nature I suppose since many of the "sins" are in natural fact human nature and can't always be solved. The refrence to the blind eye and the sight draw back to a duality of day and night. Not being able to see through an eye blind shows a darkened manner of things. As humans, we are blind to the show of reality, however we are still at a loss of sight because of society. In this, because of certain aspects of the world one can not know when night is come or over, therefore they are forever lost in this darkness.
A bed of wilted molest plays with the facet of mankind and his need to destroy and subdue nature. Because of this, it is more less molested and stolen of its true meaning. The Raven perches his nest here because our follies in the mess of the natural shall be our downfall. The Sickle Scythe refers to the nature of love and the dart as well which allusions back to Eros, the Greek god of adoration. This stanza was supposed to show a duality face of love. Notice the "Scythe" which refers to death and yet it is used with the meaning of love. However, when the arrow is shot through the heart, I did not use kind words to describe its approach. Words such as cross and pierce which show a rude wakening.
The whole little area of music refers to that of the tune of love, or the tune of purity which we learn from the "Angels Harp". However, this takes a twisted view on it and puts purity and life into the hands of man, therefore our home is earth and we are the band which plays these crooked instruments and drive our own lifes. Oh the harsh reality of it all, for it seems in playing these things, we bring forth our own deaths. Therefore, we are the creators and conductors of our own downfall. The lines after it explain being born into this world as a hell, and once you come here you lose the ability to show your true emotion, therefore they are melted away into the place of a down-wrought frown.