Saturday, June 4, 2011

Stanza Saturday (9)


Stanza Saturday is a new weekly post to share poetry from either a home collection or from the library.  Find a book of poems, any poet will do, and open up to a random page and post the first poem you see.  If the poem is rather lengthy, feel free to post just the first stanza and be sure to include the poem's title, the book's title, and the poet. ^_^

This week's poem is:

"Hades to Persephone"
By Arnold Asrelsky

Yes, my brothers made the better bargain.
Zeus wove his words and I was caught again
He to peaks and wide sky and the other
to sea-roads where the seal and porpoise play.
The dim one to the darkness he deserved,
and armies of pale twittering ghosts.
They had Lethe, at least, and knew no loss.
Who could abide the dark stale air?  The dead
only, so mole took his black chariot
to Sicily to see again the sun.
Oh, that hot sun on my flesh, the warm air
in my lungs, flowery fields, grass beneath,
and in their midst, the fairest of all, you.
Field, flower, sun, all faded into you.
Should I have said, "Oh fair, lovely maiden,
I am lord of death: come to my kingdom,
be my sun and field and flower forever;
I will make you the queen of the shadows
of corpses"? No talker I, ever, less then.
Yes, I ravished you, but first you did me.
And when I pressed you to me, and you scorched
me like the sun, hot body against mine,
no words in my strangled throat but whimpers,
no thought in an empty head but the feel
of you, of you shuddering against me.
My heart, pounding as if it would burst,
opened a road to Hades and took you,
a terrified, shrieking child pressed against
a wall to escape the loathsome one who
had done this, and stung me, unaccustomed,
into honeyed words to soothe, make my suit,
and did, oh, miracle, did--and you sat
at this table we sit at now. I cut
the pomegranate you at first refused,
and each day cut again, refused again.
One day you looked into my sad face;
I saw, like a sun in this dark, dead land,
the hint of  pity in your eyes, and my tears
wet my cheek. And when I took your small hand
in mind, it did not move. And now you smile
as you did then, at last, and shyly took
the seeds, and now tears again on my cheek
as you draw my head to your breast, and I,
having told you the tale you love to hear,
embrace and lift you again from this table. 
Tomorrow to my sister and glad earth,
but tonight to our couch, my queen, my love.

My influence for this poem definitely stems from what I'm currently reading.  I have the perfect image to match the poem, but I think it should be shared here.

What poem would you like to share today? ^_^


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