To the Memory of My Mom, Beverly Ann Smith: Persephone

Persephone

To my delight and too my pain,

I hear her laughter echo near;

Though muffled by the veil of time, 

It comes obscured, yet still I hear. 

The chords are faint, yet still resound, 

And overwhelm my listless state, 

Til all at once my heart gives way 

To joy and grief that will not wait. 

Oh would that I could reach my hand 

Through that thick darkness we call death, 

And draw her out to me again, 

Restoring laughter and her breath.

But mortals may not thus retrieve

The ones we’ve lost, who’ve gone before, 

And so, to hear her laughter clear, 

I’ll have to pass through Hades’ door.

—jwm

Of the Poem Stanza Type: Quatrain Meter: Eight lines per stanza (i.e. tetrameter) 

Rhyme Scheme: xaxa xbxb xcxc xdxd (where ‘x’ represents unrhymed lines) 

Composition: April – May 2016  In Greek mythology Persephone is the daughter of Zeus and Demeter. Demeter loved Persephone so much and cared for her innocence that she was exceedingly protective of her and utterly opposed to allowing her into marriage, believing any possible suitors to be unworthy of her. Hades, who loved Persephone, was well aware that Demeter would certainly deny him her hand.  One day, as Persephone was gathering flowers in the meadows of Enna, a jagged fissure ripped the earth wide open and Hades emerged out of the twisting and rumbling. Seizing Persephone, Hades descended with her instantly into the Underworld—the fissure closing behind them. The event occurred so quickly that even those who were gathering flowers nearby did not notice Persephone was missing.  Demeter was beside herself and writhed in despair upon the discovery of Persephone’s abduction. Crippled by agony, Demeter neglected her supervision as goddess of fertility and harvest and the earth began to reel in degeneration- crops began to fail, fruits and all manner of nourishment began to dry up and wither away, people and animals began to perish beneath the growing famine, along with countless other miseries. Hearing the cries below Mount Olympus, Zeus confronts Hades and persuades him to release Persephone from his bonds, but not before Hades tricks her into tasting a few pomegranate seeds—fruit of the Underworld, of which those who partake are filled with an overwhelming desire to stay in the Underworld.  Restored to her relieved mother, Persephone expresses a desire to return to Hades and this, of course, infuriates Demeter. Demeter threatens to let the earth perish if Persephone leaves her side. A compromise was ultimately made: Persephone is permitted to spend a given duration with Hades below, and a given duration with Demeter above.  It is said that for this reason, when Persephone abides with Hades, autumn strips trees bare and winter ravages the land—this as a result of Demeter’s indignation; and that when Persephone is with Demeter, spring’s vitality returns and summer feeds the earth with warmth and light.  That is one way of telling Persephone’s story. Inasmuch as the poem Persephone is concerned, I wanted to imagine the agony and sorrow Demeter felt upon the discovery of Persephone’s abduction by Hades (represented by death in the poem) and imagine beyond the crippling grief the inexplicable joy she must have felt upon being reunited with her daughter.  Persephone is dedicated to the memory of my mom, Beverly Ann Smith, who died October 3rd, 2015. Like Demeter, my heart perpetually writhes in crippling pain at her departure. Memories of her sustain me from despair: her angel-voice, her beautiful face, her unique and punctuated laughter, her love for me. Unlike Demeter, however, I am unable to call her back from the other side of that dark veil, and so my inexplicable joy awaits me on the other side, where I will see her again.

To the memory of my mom ...

Poetic Fragment- Cleanthes

Conduct me Zeus, and thou, O Destiny,
Wherever your decrees have fixed my lot.
I follow cheerfully; and, did I not,
Wicked and wretched, I must follow still.

-Cleanthes

Of the Poem (Quote):

This is a quote by Cleanthes that Epictetus employs in one of his works, the Enchiridion.

Despite the fatalistic imports, I love this quote and apply it with Providence in mind. Indeed, despite the pantheistic philosophical perspective endorsed by them, I love the Stoics (especially Epictetus).

Poetic Parameters:

Stanza: Quatrain
Meter: Pentameter
Rhyme Scheme: x.a.a.x. (where 'x' represents unrhymed lines- essentially an Italian quatrain)

Note: I've studied philosophy for roughly 17 years, and I find it incredible, each day, how closely connected and influenced I was by poetry through my philosophical studies- and this without my complete awareness of the matter.

Ηχω (Echo)

"That tongue of yours, by which I have been tricked, shall have its power curtailed and enjoy the briefest use of speech." (Hera to Echo. Ovid, Metamorphoses 3.365).

Ηχω

What beckons back is not the word
Of her whose voice I deem sublime:
I call, but repetitions heard
Reveal not Echo’s voice, but mine.



Of the Poem (Background):

Zeus was hardly the god of fidelity, an unfortunate fact his wife Hera became increasingly aware of (especially when it came to his attraction to mountain nymphs). Desiring to catch him in the act of infidelity, Hera attempts to secretly follow Zeus, but Echo (another nymph) would distract her with her attractive voice and attractive stories. When Hera realized this she punished the nymph by stripping away her ability to speak freely. The curse only enabled Echo to repeat the last words spoken by another- hence the name.

The quatrain above indirectly embraces an aspect of the story that is seldom thought about: Echo’s isolation. In it is a voice that calls out to Echo and waits in anticipation for a response. What rings back is an exact- albeit fainter- replication of the voice’s voice. It is Echo, but the conclusion is drawn that she is nowhere to be found, and that the returning voice is a mere repetition of the original call.

The unspoken tragedy of the poem is that it is Echo’s voice beckoning back, returning the call in replications she’s unable to break- replications so convincing, so exact, that the voice concludes the non-existence of a respondent. Her voice- once loved, even cherished by the nymph herself- is now the selfsame voice that produces a deception in its hearers, that keeps Echo forever in isolation. It’s the deception placed on the calling voice- repetitions heard / reveal not Echo’s voice, but mine- that magnify the punishment originally bestow by Hera (creating, as it were, a secondary punishment of eternal isolation).

*****

I have so many isolated stanzas (as I call them) that I have a folder specifically dedicated to them. Ηχω, a simple quatrain, is grouped with these. The stanzas range from heroic couplets to tercets to octets. Each of them have been kept because I felt them to be complete, fully finished poems- this despite the fact that they’re simple stand alone stanzas.

This begs a question: How long must a poem be to be considered a poem? Is there a such thing as ‘too short’ a poem? I’m utterly comfortable calling an isolated couplet a complete poem (especially if it was intended as such). Ezra Pound certainly considered his In a Station of the Metro not only a complete poem, but a highly mature one. A haiku is an exceedingly short poem, and yet contains volumes of poetic imagery (some of the best in the world).

It seems impossible that a single word could constitute a poem; but how about two carefully placed words? John 11:35, the shortest verse in the Bible, has a very poetic feel to it ... yet it's only two words.

As for me, I know internally when I can dub a work of mine as a poem (short or not)- but would that hold true by definition? I guess what my curiosity wants to know is this: What’s the shortest poem ever written; and, how short is too short (if there is such a thing)? Feel free to give an opinion on the matter (short or not).

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