Hope's Epoch

Hope’s Epoch

How amazing to me the dawning light

Gilding with rosy flames the purple clouds

As His children below head out in crowds

To front another day with renewed might.

Fairer still, there below that amber height,

My varied kin wandering to and fro,

Blessed with many joys but besieged by woe:

These I love who conquer their daily plight …

These people my brothers and sisters are,
Whether known or unknown, or near or far.
May our common enemy, hate and fear,
Slip into oblivion’s lasting state

Til alas we with love will deem each dear,

And finally take hold of a noble fate.

-jwm

Of the Poem

Inspired by the poet Edward Robeson Taylor, and the many beautiful sonnets of his that I have recently come to know and appreciate (his classical style is for me refreshing beyond expression), I thought that I might humbly attempt one myself.

To my regret, I believe I may have written no more than a handful of sonnets over the last decade, and of these the poetic form that I chose was that of an English sonnet—otherwise known as a Shakespearean sonnet.

Taylor, who arduously experimented with the sonnet form, seems to have favored the Petrarchan model as typified by the French poets—a form whose poetic parameters seem to have been largely overlooked here in the United States. If you are visiting this page and have any interest, there is a recent article I posted which talks about the unique parameters of a French sonnet (other major sonnet forms are also highlighted there).

Inasmuch as my attempt at a French sonnet was concerned, and the subject of it, I initially began the first half of the octave praising the beauty of the sunrise as it occurs in my hometown of Aurora, Colorado. The second half of the octave was supposed to elaborate on the grunginess and beauty and diversity of the people of Aurora—all of whom I love and wanted to boast about.

My initial endeavor was to personify Aurora as a sort of mother’s beauty brooding carefully over her children as a new and renewed day approached them.

How amazing to me your dawning light,

Gilding with rosy flames the the purple clouds,

As your children below head out in crowds

To front another day with renewed might …

… children “bedeviled about by so many cares” and just desiring happiness. But the poem took a turn as a result of other things I was studying.

I was reading a powerful poem written by Jamaican poet, Claude McKay. The poem, which is a sonnet and a must needs read, is called If We Must Die. It is a poem about brutal oppression, the inability to tolerate it anymore, and an invocation to fight violently against it. The poem was essentially a response to a series of violent racest riots that occurred in 1919, a period known historically as the Red Summer.

After having read about these terrible events a sort of hopelessness and grief lingered with me, a sadness within me that we humans have it in us to be so hateful—murderously hateful—toward one another. It never seems to end, and when I begin to believe that humanity is progressing toward some higher goodness, invariably it seems that some next-level, monumental evil comes in and eclipses that hope. Still, I had to remind myself, if any of us wants to see change we cannot stop hoping for it, and the only way of effecting change is to change ourselves.

It was on this thinking that I began to edit the octave of the poem I began about my hometown and the diversity of its people, and began to ‘universalize’ it. I had the poem open with a new day, a new dawning light as the world (His children) sets out to face and make something of it.

Note the human condition as laid out in the octave: ‘fronting existence’, wandering to and fro (as if lost), besieged by woe, and yet still having within ourselves many joys. Note also how the narrator deems the diversity of the human race (my varied kin) as more beautiful (fairer still) than even that of the dawning morning sky—he especially has love for those who endeavor to overcome their plight (i.e. the human condition).

In a French sonnet the volta or turn in the poem occurs in lines 9 and 10 where a rhyming couplet is employed. In the case of this poem, the volta is an open acknowledgement that all people, whether known or unknown, are as close family to the narrator, and that this perspective must be held if effective and meaningful change is to occur in the world (as the following lines indicate).

The quatrain which then follows concludes with the idea that the enemy we face is not one another, it is xenophobia (fear) and prejudice (hate), and that these must of necessity be lifted if there is to be any hope for humanity. Indeed, the narrator suggests, it is only by banishing these in ourselves that one can even engender the kind of disposition that can love others as if they were our closest kin and family.

Imagine if this were the general disposition or creed of the American population of 1919, one could hardly imagine that the race-hating atrocities which occurred that year would have happened as it did, or at least not to the scale that it did. Imagine, what if this were the general disposition of people globally? What a difference it would make … we might even be able to change our fate.

If you are visiting this page and read this article, I would love to know your thoughts. How did you come to find interest in poetry? Have you written a French sonnet (or any other sonnet types)? How do you like the poem posted in this particular post? Any views on xenophobia and/or prejudice that you might have seen? If you are from another country, what kind of racial issues occur where you are from, and what solutions are being employed there to reduce it? I could go on and on. Nevertheless, I would love to hear from you. Thanks for stopping by.

Ulysses and Calypso: by Edward Robeson Taylor

Ulysses and Calypso

For that they slew the cattle of the Sun

Ulysses’ comrades sank to death while he,

Borne on the billows of the friendly sea,

Calypso’s lovely isle in safety won;

Where filled with soothing rest his days did run

To murmous music’s luring notes as she

Bound him in coils of such captivity,

But that for Zeus his soul had been undone.

The God’s decree the enamored nymph obeyed,

And helped the hero as his raft he made,

While brimmed her heart with desolation’s tears.

His glimmering sail she watched till in the sea’s

Great void ‘twas lost, then moaned because her years

Were not as mortal as Penelope’s. 

Of the Poem

Wow! That is an excellent and powerful poem on many levels. Edward Robeson Taylor did an amazing job capturing the feeling behind this myth and used wonderful imagery from Homer’s classic read, the Odyssey. The story and that last line, man! What a read. And the structure of the poem—believe it or not, this is a widely unacknowledged sonnet form, and Taylor makes great use of it in a significant amount of his works. We will touch on this in another post, but for now, about the poem.

The poet Homer—whether this is an individual or a collective of individuals is an entirely different blog post—is said to have written two major epic poems: the Iliad and the Odyssey. 

The Iliad is about the ten-year siege of the city Troy and the war between the Trojans and Achaeans (Greeks). This war is well known to have been provoked by the ‘abduction’ of Helen by Paris, prince of Troy. It is a wonderful classic and an intense read (totally recommend). 

The Odyssey immediately follows the fall of Troy and is about Ulysses (Odysseus), the king of Ithaca, and his arduous ten-year journey home. The stories of his journey and the crazy events told are many, but for the sake of time and to prevent the temptation of tangents, let us stick with a brief outline that puts Taylor’s poem into some context. 

Because the Trojan war lasted ten-years, and because it took Ulysses ten-years to get back home (you can do the math), by the time he arrived it had been long assumed that Ulysses perished in the war with the Trojans. Because of this, many suitors desiring kingship competed eagerly for the hand of Ulysses’ wife, Penelope. Ulysses was quite aware that he needed to get back to his wife and let her know he is still alive, and still king.

Sailing on his way back, Ulysses and his exhausted crew land on the island of the sun god Helios. When Ulysses fell asleep his men, starving as well as exhausted, fell upon the cattle of the sun god and ate them. Retribution for this act came as they all took sail again: Zeus sends a thunderbolt down utterly destroying their ship. Because “they slew the cattle of the Sun / Ulysses’ comrades sank to death”, while he (Ulysses) won safety on “Calypso’s lovely isle”.

The goddess Calypso, so beautiful that even the gods swoon over the sight of her, finds herself irresistibly enamored by Ulysses—so much so that she prevents him from leaving the celestial paradise of her island: 

To murmous music’s luring notes as she

Bound him in coils of such captivity

Ulysses is stuck there for seven years, and may have been hopelessly stuck there for the rest of his mortal days had Zeus not intervened by sending Hermes to Calypso demanding our stranded hero’s release. As much as she loved Ulysses, Calypso was forced to comply.

But that for Zeus [Ulysses’] soul [would have] been undone

The God’s decree the enamored nymph obeyed

Calypso then helps Ulysses “as his raft he made / While brimmed her heart with desolation’s tears.”

It is only latently implied in the final line of the poem, but before Calypso helps Ulysses build a raft to sail away on, she offers our hero immortality and a life in eternal paradise if only he would choose to stay with her. By the end of the poem his answer to her is an obvious one. 

The poem concludes with Ulysses’ raft disappearing over the horizon of the “sea’s Great void”,  and with our goddess mourning and wishing herself to be mortal like Penelope—ultimately wishing herself dead—than to live eternally without him who she so loved. 

His glimmering sail she watched till in the sea’s

Great void ‘twas lost, then moaned because her years

Were not as mortal as Penelope’s.

Yes! Wonderful subject, excellent write, and enjoyable read. I sometimes wish I could speak with some of these poets of the past and ask what inspired this or that particular topic of the poem, or why they chose the poem’s perspective to be from this or that particular person’s. Notwithstanding, what a great poem. Now, about this poem being an unacknowledged sonnet form, suffice it to say (in this particular post) that Taylor's poem is a sonnet, and that that widely unacknowledged form is the creative byproduct of brilliant French poets. I will dedicate a thorough post to this fact in days to come. Meanwhile, I would love to know what you think of Tayor's poem. Have you ever hear of Edward Robeson Taylor? If so, do you have a particular poem of his you really enjoyed? Or, even better, have you ever written a sonnet based on mythology, or recommend one? I would love to read it if you have, or hear your thoughts with regard to this post. I will do my best to respond to each comment.