Poem: From Where All Gods Spring

It's time once again for another poem.  This one is called From Where All Gods Spring.  The rhyming scheme was inspired by a combination of Geoffrey Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales and the works of William Blake.  Perhaps a little ironic for a poem with atheistic themes, but I like their works so it rubbed off on me.  This poem was also featured as part of Pandora, the artistic magazine of Centenary College of Louisiana.  There really isn't too much more to say, besides that the poem is my musings on the origins of religion, gods and humanity's relationship with them in its quest for knowledge.  I'll let the poem speak for itself.  And without further ado, the poem:

In those days so long ago

Before the winds of Zephyrus did blow

Before Helios' rays did shine

Before mortal tongues tasted of Dionysian wine

The was in Africa a hairless ape that had learned to stand

This hairless ape was known as Man

Man found his world to be quite odd

So to explain it man turned to gods

Gods of the earth and gods of sea

And gods of just about everything there could be

But as Man moved out of Africa

To spread to all corners of the Earth to multiply

Man began to ask himself why

In Egypt and Greece man turned to the sky

And then did answers multiply

But as Man embarked on this knowledge quest

He began to discard his gods

"It's only for the best"

"But wait," said man

"Just maybe perhaps"

"We'll fill what we don't know with gods of gaps"

Time moved on and knowledge collected

And yet somehow the gods were protected

From criticisms small and great

For it was said those who doubted made the gods irate

Though many cast doubt the gods seemed here to stay

For on Man's heart they still held sway

Yet many were lost along the way

Victims to rationality on might say

But even to this jolly day

Though it may still seem odd

The world is still filled with many gods

Gods of love and gods of strife

Gods who promise eternal life

Yet as we keep all these gods in good jest

We must recall

That all gods' origins are from the beating heart within man's chest

Poem: The Friendliest Folks Live Underground

I think it's about time for another poem.  This poem is called The Friendliest Folks Live Underground, and it was inspired by something that occurred on my high school senior trip.  The trip was a week long journey to Venice, Paris and London.  I'd previously taken a two week trip to Italy the summer before my junior year that stopped in Venice, Florence, Orvieto, Sorrento, Pompeii, Capri, Rome and the Vatican.  So this was my second trip to Europe, and were all hectically hustling and bustling through the London Underground.

The teachers were being a bit much so I decided to have a little fun.  I purposefully waited slightly too long, and let people push me aside.  This resulted in me not getting on the train in time.  The look on the teachers' faces was absolutely priceless.  I had a pretty good idea of how to get to the stop, but I was a little nervous.  Fortunately, a nice old lady asked me if I was okay, and I told her my plan and she offered a bit of advice.  I got on the next train, ask some of my fellow passengers when I wasn't quite sure of my plan (and they were more than happy to help), and pulled into my destination much to everyone's relief.

After that the teachers made a point of making sure I got on all of the trains on time.  However, I did get a bit more fun exploring the British Museum on my own.  Only had two hours, and did take time to help my fellow travelers find exhibits, but I made sure to get in plenty of major exhibits.  Plus I took the long way out to see more stuff, and I bought the guide book.  As for the poem, the rhyme scheme was inspired by Alexander Pope's Essay on Man, and the line about Camden Town reflects my own feelings of unease from when I payed it a visit as part of the tour.      

Anyway, enough about my travels, let's get on with the poem:

Hush Now

Don't make a fret or sound

For the friendlies folks live underground

You missed your train

You feel the strain

But kind old ladies help ease the pain

They say under London it's a labyrinth

Like the one in Minos' home

Where the minotaurs roam

And while in Camden Town

There you'll find shady folks

But underground everyone's best of blokes

So when you pull into your destination

Everyone's waiting for you with a great big smile

And all the while you realize that you have found

The friendliest folks live underground

Poem: The Love Song of N.C. Griffalco

Time for another poem, The Love Song of N.C. Griffalco.  This was a poem I wrote when I was feeling particularly sad that I hadn't gotten up the courage to talk to a girl I liked in high school, but I got over that, and I'm all better now.  This was a few years ago in any event.  N.C. Griffalco is a reference to Nicholas Caraway Griffalco, a character from series of books I never published, and that we will discuss in a future blog post.

As you might guess from the title, this was inspired by TS Eliot's "The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock" and the style and themes reflect that.  Prufrock has always been one of my favorite poems.  As usual, this and all of my poems can be found on my Fictionpress account.  

And now, the poem:  

I remember when first we met

You were so bright and shimmering

I knew not what to do

As days turned to weeks and months to years

Over high Aeolian Mount you made my sprit soar

When my world was dark you were a shimmering light

Dante had Beatrice

Shakespeare had his shadowed lady

And in you I found my muse

In you my art found reason

In you my art had meaning

In you I had inspiration

Alas, your heart belongs to another

But I don't blame you my dear

Why wouldn't you pick him?

So much more dashing than I

So much more savvy of human culture than I

So much that I am not

So here I stand

Cured to love but never be love

To walk the earth as a mortal immortal

Often lie awake at night nigh and cry

In my sorrow I weep "Oh what could have been had I only been stronger!"

How many more shall I love only to have my heart shattered?

For so long my life was like a dream

But dreams don't last forever

Eventually we all must wake up

Poem: We Live on Rapanui

With this post I though I'd begin introducing some of the poems I've written and provide a bit of commentary on them.  This first poem, We Live on Rapanui, was something I wrote on a whim, but it reads one of my favorite poems.  The title and general rhythm scheme were inspired by the poem "We Wear the Mask" by Paul Laurence Dunbar.  The writers of the Harlem Renaissance have always been among my favorites, and it's only natural that they would influence me.

The subject matter is a reference to the island of Rapanui, better known as Easter Island.  Once home to a thriving culture that had to abandon the island after they overtaxed its resources.  You'll probably spot a reference to Stephen King's Under the Dome.  In both cases, they serve as a microcosm for the world as a whole.  Figured I'd give my readers mental food to chew on.

That should be enough background for the time, and I'd like to point out you can see this and all of my poems on my Fictionpress account.  This poem also appear in the news paper of Centenary College of Louisiana.  And now, the poem:

We live on Rapanui

We dwell under the dome

We cut the trees for timber

And timber for our homes

The sea gives fish

The trees bear fruit

We light the oil

We hack the soot

In past there were few

In present are many

Where now is little

Long ago was plenty

What did we think

That faithful day

The forest gone

One tree remained

We lived on Rapanui

We dwelled under the dome

We cut the trees for timber

Now no one dwells within the homes