O fair Lucretia, if your soul is still
among the angels, gazing down at will
upon the stir of human sour intent,
what think you now of Tarquin's lustful bent?
You think it love that forced itself upon
your virtuous breast, that left you, in the dawn,
a grieving wife who could not overcome
remorse? Or can you see that what he'd done
had naught to do with love but rather hatred -
though of what, Ovid declines to state.
In two millenia, one thing hasn't changed:
that on the victim still we place the shame -
your suicide in vain two thousand years.
Still, women bear the night in grief and fear.
Author notes
Okay. I was reading Ovid, ya know? Well. Not Ovid, but a translation. A dreadful, clunky translation. I got dreadful, clunky couplets in my head, and this is how I responded.
The story Ovid relates is of Tarquin, how he was enamoured with Lucretia, supposedly, and forced himself on her, threatening to kill her otherwise. She told her husband, who "forgave" her, but she couldn't forgive herself so she committed suicide. I couldn't help inserting my contemporary thinking into the tale.
I know the last lines are pat and predictable, but by the time I wrote them I was fed up with the thing and felt like moving on and writing possibly a poem.
No need for crit, unless you really believe this could be the Next Great Thing.
Comments
1 - 15 of 15
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I disagree with your self critique... I found this to be an insightful and perspicacious precis and congratulate you on it.
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up next: a sestina dealing with teenage drug abuse.
high
fucked up
crank
smack
bland sausage
Wait. I'm not sure I remember how a sestina works.
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You need to give me one more word.
What's with the 3 claps - you finally succumb??
Stranger.
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erudite writing i must say
u did justice with the character even i had gone through ovide a translation version....
and u brought things in you lines -
deft as usual but
I can almost feel your frustration with this as I read it. Of course there are tons of "poets" on here who would be beating their heads against a wall in order to attempt this kind of writing, which apparently you cant help but churn out after digesting a bit of reading.
it does seem like its perhaps not the final product though. Maybe it now needs to be digested along with the original thoughts.
as for the last few lines being "pat and predictable"... its not your fault they're true. -
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Hey you! Thanks for reading. I suppose if this kind of poetry were something I was interested in developing, I would work on it. I posted it to start a series, I suppose it's a series, of poems I wrote last week in response to poems I read. Some times I need to prove to myself that I can still do the rhyme/rhythm thing, I guess, I dunno.
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The bitter fruit of blindness ...
so very well expressed.
The thing? It is no thing. It is a poem, and a good one too.
The true, sad secret is: unconditional love does not unmask fakeness -- even with the knowledge thereof.
Blessed Be, Zara.
Myra
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You know..
I like this...
maybe not the form ( it's a bit stressed in parts ) but the spit of those lines, the anger that seems to be in them.
You're right, nothing has changed, which is vile ..sadly vile, and perhaps that's a theme you might want to explore further? ??
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Aye, but ya have to be careful with themes, yeah? You end up sounding like a preacher, not a poet.
What was an interesting experience for me was that I was doing my read-a-poem,-write-a-poem thing, and when I got to Ovid, I just couldn't get into the spirit of HIS poem, which described Tarquin's as an powerful, passionate love, such that he planned to rape her to express it; the politics took over, and here you have it.
And, you're right, the poem pissed me off!
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lol yes ... I have a tendency to get stuck in a theme... mostly because I never say it right the first time ( to myself ) .. lol but yes..
Yes and you know, the anger shows, it gives this a spark.. one a reader, me in this case could easily grab onto and say ....yes!! we need to do something.. in response to.. a reaction, and I can't think of anything better....to get ..
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I meant theme in the sense of "message" poetry. I am envious of anyone who can write a series of related poems. I seem to run out of steam in 10 or 20 lines.
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the abused become abusers
valuable for everyone/everything
including non breathing stuff that breathes (like a translation from Ovid for example)
...and love is nothing else than consensual abuse
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what ... what ... what to critique?? as this is classically contained in form and style..
I'm sure others can pick out small nuances of complaints of words to be changed? or something???
but for me... the last line is a killer Miss Z.. and yes, suicide is still looked on as a shameful act, yet has hints of courage too.. the fear and grief comes from others
and now I am rambling like an idiot, cause this piece has made me think of many things this morning..
good to see you putting things out at the moment, makes for a good day to see a Zara poem, yes it does
Gilly.x
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a well made point here, enjoy the classic approach...PK
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nothings changed...
A lovely work! You have done a great job with this poet... and yes, nothing has changed! Reclaim the night!
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