Page 1 of 1

Tantalus

PostPosted: Sun Aug 20, 2006 9:38 pm
by Saturn
Yet another stream of conciousness on the spur-of-the-moment chimaera of a poem for a you - a disjointed, ill-fitting beast which shouldn't exist but does.

*******

I drink you in; a heady brew.
Not satiated - tantalised
Constantly. I thirst.
Besotted; I'm reeling
Dangerously on the cusp
Of happiness. Senseless,
Stumbling, heedless
Precipice is looming
Yet still I stagger.

As a man sworn to
Secrecy: Tortured
I confess nothing.
I will die either way.

Disclosure involves
Unleashing furies.

Guilless I seem
In my adoration,
Tentative in deed.

I walk deluded,
A martyr for love
My zealotry knows
No earthly bounds.
I'd die to hold you
Yet still I'm laughing
Swallowing words
Those bitter pills
Stick comfortless
In my mouth.

To die is nothing
To kiss and tell
You my heart
Is suicide by proxy.

So I swim still,
The tide holds
Me suspended,
Eddies of hopes
Keep me afloat -
Phantom waves.

But I founder;
I drown slow
And willing.

Looking at you
Is like staring
At a dying star,
A comet in space.

I know you'll go
And leave me;
Streaking across
This life's horizon.

When will such
A blazing star
Shine so bright
On my heart again?

Never.

PostPosted: Tue Aug 22, 2006 11:14 am
by Saturn
:(

This must be really bad...no replies :(

I must have bored you all senseless with my monodys of unrequited love :?













**skulks off in embarassment :oops: :oops: **

PostPosted: Tue Aug 22, 2006 4:04 pm
by AhDistinctly
Saturn threw down the gauntlet (blame him!); I’ll pick it up (blame me!). After all, I’ve been here for a whole week (almost). :) Because of my unfamiliarity with the author, and the fact that the author will actually read my comments, I feel more comfortable referring to the piece specifically and the author generally. (Hope that is okay!)

Keeping in mind that you can look at a poem from two perspectives: as part of a body of work or as a stand-alone piece, as I have not the benefit of knowing other works, stand-alone it will be. (I’ve seen others, but was focusing on knowing Keats, so I’ve avoided reading anyone’s poetry here.)

Here goes: Starting with the title: “Tantalus” Intriguing title. The question arises immediately: is the author Tantalus? Is it a confession of some wrongdoing that is being severely punished? Or is it an analogy of being unfulfilled – or unable to BE fulfilled?

That is either a lot of baggage to set on a poem before it starts, or a very useful “stage set up” device. (Would “Ode on a Grecian Urn” conjure up such specific images if it had been called “Untitled”?)

I have to admit that I did not take the title into consideration the first time I read the piece. The title was in the subject line, which I guess I overlooked, assuming it to be an untitled piece. I’ll go with that for now.

I drink you in; a heady brew.
Not satiated - tantalized
Constantly. I thirst.
Besotted; I'm reeling
Dangerously on the cusp
Of happiness. Senseless,
Stumbling, heedless
Precipice is looming
Yet still I stagger.

Aptly describes the very physical feeling at the beginning of a love affair

As a man sworn to
Secrecy: Tortured
I confess nothing.
I will die either way.

Disclosure involves
Unleashing furies.


A clue: this isn’t a physical relationship. Is it Chivalric love? That which is unattainable? If so, why?

Guilless I seem
In my adoration,
Tentative in deed.


Ah! The object of does not know. This is not a romance, chivalric or otherwise. It is a secret.

But I founder; So I swim still,
The tide holds
Me suspended,
Eddies of hopes
Keep me afloat -
Phantom waves.


On another site I caught a recent thread that posed the question of what you would do if you met “X” for two minutes – what would you say. Using that as an inspiration, I wrote quite a bit on the scenario of meeting one’s heros. Perhaps that is why I like this section above all others in the poem – it speaks directly of what people do all the time: construct elaborate “what if” stories in their mind. “If I met X, I’d ---.” “When I meet X, I will---.” And soon, “When X meets me, X will ---.” An elaborate, and very satisfying house of cards – or, as here, phantom waves. Gosh, I LOVE that image. That, to me, is what poetry is all about. It has the ability to draw out a person’s own experience. I love going to the art museum, but I never think of “Ode on a Grecian Urn” when I am looking directly at one. However, I do muse about the life of a person who wore a shoe I notice on the side of the road.

I know you'll go
And leave me;
Streaking across
This life's horizon.


The author speaks here with certainty. And (in the contrariness of my brain) that brings uncertainty to the poem. How can the author be so sure of the outcome? Because it has happened before? Or because the author wills it – so that the illusion can remain intact? Would a feeling of loss be preferable to a (possible) feeling of disappointment? After all, one can live with (or in or through) one’s memories (real or otherwise), but disenchantment gives no such rush.

When will such
A blazing star
Shine so bright
On my heart again?

Never.



I would expect – or accept -- no other reply from a person who feels that fervently. It is a defining characteristic of passionate vs. practical nature. When there is love, it is the best thing there ever could be -- ever. When gone, there is no possibility it could be replicated -- never.


Whew! If that was a “spur-of-the-moment” piece, I’d better stick to the Keats stuff. I agonize for days, weeks, before setting my own quirky thoughts to paper.

And now, I believe my boss would appreciate it if I’d apply my brain to more corporate matters. Alas.

PostPosted: Tue Aug 22, 2006 11:50 pm
by dks
Just read this for the first time-- :shock:

Are you kidding??? Saturn!! That's the best f**ckin thing I've read by you yet, good man...it's brilliant!! :shock:

I LOVE the first stanza...it's careful but explosive-and the passion brims aptly throughout, creeping along--gorgeously showing your reticence:

What Muse gave you this?

I drink you in; a heady brew

Brilliant.


And this:

I walk deluded,
A martyr for love
My zealotry knows
No earthly bounds.
I'd die to hold you
Yet still I'm laughing
Swallowing words
Those bitter pills
Stick comfortless
In my mouth.


I f**ckin love it.. Publishable, Stephen. That's what that is. Auspiciously lucky is the unwitting recipient of such proclamation...wow.

You outdid yourself, dear man--the gauntlet indeed has been thrown--hmmmm...I feel a need to wield my pen like a shield.

PostPosted: Wed Aug 23, 2006 12:52 am
by Saturn
AhDistinctly I am honoured you chose to analyse this poem so closely.

Your the first person to ever do so - my first official critiicism :lol:

It's only fitting I reply in full to your questions.

The title was an afterthought really.

I have another poem with the same title. The mythical punishment of Tantalus just strikes a chord with me as a symbol of something/someone you most desire being ever so close but never attainable.

I wish I could say that I worked extremely hard and diligently on this. In truth there is no more than half an hour's work in it.

The first stanza refers to the present. Not the beginning of a love affair in fact, but an ongoing feeling of intoxication.

This is not a physical relationship, in fact not strictly a 'relationship' in the romantic sense at all [at least on her part] but an intense friendship.
It could perhaps be described as chivalric and it is indeed unattainable.
The reason? The person concerned does not reciprocate my feelings - simple as that.

My feelings are not really a secret.
I have in the past revealed my feelings but been rejected though I still feel the same, if not more strongly than then, but am extremely unwillingly to risk losing the friendship if I renew my romantic intentions.

My certainty in the penultimate stanza is more of a premonition of my worst fears knowing the immediate future plans of this person.


Oh and Denise please stop it



:oops:

PostPosted: Wed Aug 23, 2006 3:17 am
by dks
*clutching heart*

OUCH. You just smashed my earnest, sincere and carefully considered praise and lauding onto the floor.

That smarts a bit, sir.

:shock: :?

PostPosted: Wed Aug 23, 2006 10:54 pm
by Saturn
Your praise is too much - from one poet to another I thank you.

There I can take a compliment sometimes. :lol:

PostPosted: Thu Aug 24, 2006 2:46 am
by AhDistinctly
Saturn wrote:My feelings are not really a secret.
I have in the past revealed my feelings but been rejected though I still feel the same, if not more strongly than then, but am extremely unwillingly to risk losing the friendship if I renew my romantic intentions.

:oops:


Thank you for sharing that, Saturn. Or, more accurately, reiterating. I see by reading more forum threads that the information was out there had I dug for it. Which, interestingly, somewhat validates my original post to the forum (How do you read Keats) – and even suggests an answer to me.

On its own, I can enjoy your poem (which I did – especially as noted above). But to understand it in its true context, research is in order. So:

Enjoy --> Research --> Analyze


Saturn wrote:AhDistinctly I am honoured you chose to analyse this poem so closely.

Your the first person to ever do so - my first official critiicism


The honor (even with my shortened American spelling...) is truly mine. I shall expect to see proper recognition in the Acknowledgments of your first published volume!

I'm kidding about the acknowledgment. But not about the publishing. The world needs Romantics. (Hey, not a bad title!) Have you a large enough collection to do so? After all: WWKD?

PostPosted: Thu Aug 24, 2006 10:27 am
by Saturn
AhDistinctly wrote: The world needs Romantics. (Hey, not a bad title!) Have you a large enough collection to do so? After all: WWKD?


Hey that's a great title...keep it for yourself.

As to publishing that is a pipe-dream
:?

I have about seven years worth of poems, most of them truly appaling.

All my best stuff is on this forum...and some of my very worst too :lol: