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    Default From my most recent poetry blog......

    For, A Look Into Lesser Known Poets, A Series, (3rd.) Poet, Christina Rossetti
    Blog Posted:3/21/2020 3:59:00 PM


    For, A Look Into Lesser Known Poets, A Series, (3rd.) Poet, Christina Rossetti

    https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poe...stina-rossetti


    Christina Rossetti
    1830–1894
    Image of Christina Rossetti.
    Lebrecht Music and Arts Photo Library / Alamy Stock Photo
    Poet Christina Rossetti was born in 1830, the youngest child in an extraordinarily gifted family. Her father, the Italian poet and political exile Gabriele Rossetti, immigrated to England in 1824 and established a career as a Dante scholar and teacher of Italian in London. He married the half-English, half-Italian Frances Polidori in 1826, and they had four children in quick succession: Maria Francesca in 1827, Gabriel Charles Dante (famous under the name Dante Gabriel but always called Gabriel by family members) in 1828, William Michael in 1829, and Christina Georgina on 5 December 1830. In 1831 Gabriele Rossetti was appointed to the chair of Italian at the newly opened King’s College. The children received their earliest education, and Maria and Christina all of theirs, from their mother, who had been trained as a governess and was committed to cultivating intellectual excellence in her family. Certainly this ambition was satisfied: Maria was the author of a respected study of Dante, as well as books on religious instruction and Italian grammar and translation; Dante Gabriel distinguished himself as one of the foremost poets and painters of his era; and William was a prolific art and literary critic, editor, and memoirist of the Pre-Raphaelite movement. Christina became one of the Victorian age’s finest poets. She was the author of numerous books of poetry, including Goblin Market and other Poems (1862), The Prince’s Progress (1866), A Pageant (1881), and The Face of the Deep (1882).

    Rossetti’s poetry has never disappeared from view. Critical interest in Rossetti’s poetry swelled in the final decades of the twentieth century, a resurgence largely impelled by the emergence of feminist criticism; much of this commentary focuses on gender issues in her poetry and on Rossetti as a woman poet. In Rossetti’s lifetime opinion was divided over whether she or Elizabeth Barrett Browning was the greatest female poet of the era; in any case, after Browning’s death in 1861 readers and critics saw Rossetti as the older poet’s rightful successor. The two poets achieved different kinds of excellence, as is evident in Dante Gabriel Rossetti‘s comment on his sister, quoted by William Sharp in The Atlantic Monthly (June 1895): “She is the finest woman-poet since Mrs. Browning, by a long way; and in artless art, if not in intellectual impulse, is greatly Mrs. Browning’s superior.” Readers have generally considered Rossetti’s poetry less intellectual, less political, and less varied than Browning’s; conversely, they have acknowledged Rossetti as having the greater lyric gift, with her poetry displaying a perfection of diction, tone, and form under the guise of utter simplicity.

    Rossetti’s childhood was exceptionally happy, characterized by affectionate parental care and the creative companionship of older siblings. In temperament she was most like her brother Dante Gabriel: their father called the pair the “two storms” of the family in comparison to the “two calms,” Maria and William. Christina was given to tantrums and fractious behavior, and she fought hard to subdue this passionate temper. Years later, counseling a niece subject to similar outbursts, the mature Christina looked back on the fire now stifled: “You must not imagine, my dear girl, that your Aunt was always the calm and sedate person you now behold. I, too, had a very passionate temper; but I learnt to control it. On one occasion, being rebuked by my dear Mother for some fault, I seized upon a pair of scissors, and ripped up my arm to vent my wrath. I have learnt since to control my feelings—and no doubt you will!” Self-control was, indeed, achieved—perhaps too much so. In his posthumous memoir of his sister that prefaces The Poetical Works of Christina Georgina Rossetti (1904) William laments the thwarting of her high spirits: “In innate character she was vivacious, and open to pleasurable impressions; and, during her girlhood, one might readily have supposed that she would develop into a woman of expansive heart, fond of society and diversions, and taking a part in them of more than average brilliancy. What came to pass was of course quite the contrary.” As an adult Christina Rossetti was considered by many to be overscrupulous and excessively restrained.pleasures, renunciation, individual unworthiness, and the perfection of >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>.....

    much, much more at link given above...(RJL)
    Three examples of her poetry given below...(RJL)

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
    https://allpoetry.com/A-Better-Ressurection

    (1.)

    A Better Resurrection
    BY CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
    I have no wit, no words, no tears;
    My heart within me like a stone
    Is numb'd too much for hopes or fears;
    Look right, look left, I dwell alone;
    I lift mine eyes, but dimm'd with grief
    No everlasting hills I see;
    My life is in the falling leaf:
    O Jesus, quicken me.

    My life is like a faded leaf,
    My harvest dwindled to a husk:
    Truly my life is void and brief
    And tedious in the barren dusk;
    My life is like a frozen thing,
    No bud nor greenness can I see:
    Yet rise it shall—the sap of Spring;
    O Jesus, rise in me.

    My life is like a broken bowl,
    A broken bowl that cannot hold
    One drop of water for my soul
    Or cordial in the searching cold;
    Cast in the fire the perish'd thing;
    Melt and remould it, till it be
    A royal cup for Him, my King:
    O Jesus, drink of me.
    © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

    (2.)
    An Echo from Willowood
    “Oh Ye, All Ye That Walk in Willowwood”


    Two gaz’d into a pool, he gaz’d and she,
    Not hand in hand, yet heart in heart, I think,
    Pale and reluctant on the water’s brink
    AS on the brink of parting which must be.
    Each eyed the other’s aspect, she and he,
    Each felt one hungering heart leap up and sink,
    Each tasted bitterness which both must drink,
    There on the brink of life’s dividing sea.
    Lilies upon the surface, deep below
    Two wistful faces craving each for each,
    Resolute and reluctant without speech:—
    A sudden ripple made the faces flow
    One moment join’d, to vanish out of reach:
    So these hearts join’d, and ah! were parted so.
    © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

    (3.)

    Echo
    BY CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
    Remember
    Remember me when I am gone away,
    Gone far away into the silent land;
    When you can no more hold me by the hand,
    Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
    Remember me when no more day by day
    You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
    Only remember me; you understand
    It will be late to counsel then or pray.
    Yet if you should forget me for a while
    And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
    For if the darkness and corruption leave
    A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
    Better by far you should forget and smile
    Than that you should remember and be sad.
    © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    3rd link on , CHRISTINA ROSSETTI

    https://poets.org/poet/christina-rossetti

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    I That Once Rose To Greet Dawn's Sweetest Voice

    I that once rose to greet dawn's sweetest voice
    and with joy of life, make loving my choice
    as in searching for romance and its gems
    fiery rites of passion, open rose stems.

    Moonlit skies, quenching heavy gasping aches
    Always searching, playing for higher stakes!

    I that saw not blindness within my soul
    felt only glory, saw not hurt's great toll
    prisoner, bound by my unbreakable chains
    as a ghost, denying my lonely pains.

    Moonlit skies, quenching heavy gasping aches
    Always searching, playing for higher stakes!

    I that walked long crooked path with glee
    did not admit harm done they or to me
    yes a young rascal, seeking ever more
    thus merciless as bloody holes I tore.

    Moonlit skies, quenching heavy gasping aches
    Always searching, playing for higher stakes!

    I that thought life only for pleasure found
    shut out truth's light and any crying sounds
    lost soul, racing into that coming wrath
    playing wicked odds, failing at math.

    Moonlit skies, quenching heavy gasping aches
    Always searching, playing for higher stakes!

    I that finally paid my costly dues
    was imprisoned in dark, hard hitting blues
    victim of my own making, blinded sight
    cast into darkest fields of blackest blight.

    No longer skies, of heavy gasping aches
    No more searching, playing for higher stakes!

    Robert J. Lindley, 3-21-2020
    Rhyme, ( How Oft Life Teaches Us Those Much Needed Lessons )
    Tribute poem composed for third poet, ( Christina Rossetti )
    in my, -- "Lesser Known Poets Series".
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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  3. #2
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    For, A Look Into Lesser Known Poets, A Series, ( 4th.) Poet, Elinor Wylie
    Blog Posted:3/27/2020 7:35:00 AM
    For, A Look Into Lesser Known Poets, A Series, ( 4th.) Poet, Elinor Wylie


    Elinor Wylie
    From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

    Elinor Wylie
    Born Elinor Morton Hoyt
    September 7, 1885
    Somerville, New Jersey, U.S.
    Died December 16, 1928 (aged 43)
    New York City, New York, U.S.
    Occupation Writer, editor
    Language English
    Notable works Nets to Catch the Wind, Black Armor, Angels and Earthly Creatures
    Notable awards Julia Ellsworth Ford Prize
    Spouse Philip Simmons Hichborn
    (m. 1906; died 1912)
    Horace Wylie
    (m. 1916–19??)
    William Rose Benet
    (m. 1923; died 1950)
    Children Philip Simmons Hichborn, Jr.
    Elinor Morton Wylie (September 7, 1885 – December 16, 1928) was an American poet and novelist popular in the 1920s and 1930s. "She was famous during her life almost as much for her ethereal beauty and personality as for her melodious, sensuous poetry."[1]

    Life
    Family and childhood
    Elinor Wylie was born Elinor Morton Hoyt in Somerville, New Jersey, into a socially prominent family. Her grandfather, Henry M. Hoyt, was a governor of Pennsylvania. Her aunt was Helen Hoyt, a poet.[2] Her parents were Henry Martyn Hoyt, Jr., who would be United States Solicitor General from 1903 to 1909; and Anne Morton McMichael (born July 31, 1861 in Pa.). Their other children were:

    Henry Martyn Hoyt (May 8, 1887, in Pa. – August 25, 1920 in New York City) who married Alice Gordon Parker (1885–1951)
    Constance A. Hoyt (May 20, 1889, in Pa. – 1923 in Bavaria, Germany) who married Ferdinand von Stumm-Halberg on March 30, 1910, in Washington, D.C.
    Morton McMichael Hoyt (April 4, 1899, in Washington, D.C. - August 21, 1949, in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania), three times married and divorced Eugenia Bankhead, known as "Sister" and sister of Tallulah Bankhead
    Nancy McMichael Hoyt (born October 1, 1902, in Washington, D.C. - 1949) romance novelist who wrote Elinor Wylie: The Portrait of an Unknown Woman (1935). She married Edward Davison Curtis; they divorced in 1932.
    Because of her father's political aspirations, Elinor spent much of her youth in Washington, DC.[3] She was educated at Miss Baldwin's School (1893–97), Mrs. Flint's School (1897–1901), and finally Holton-Arms School (1901–04).[4][failed verification] In particular, from age 12 to 20, she lived in Washington again where she made her debut in the midst of the "city's most prominent social élite,"[3] being "trained for the life of a debutante and a society wife".[5]

    "As a girl she was already bookish—not in the languid or inactive sense but girded, embraced by books, between whose covers lay the word-perfect world she sought. She grew into a tall, dark beauty in the classic 1920s style. Some who knew her claimed she was the most striking woman they ever met."[6]

    Marriages and scandal

    After Elinor eloped with Horace Wylie, Philip Simmons Hichborn committed suicide in this building.
    The future Elinor Wylie became notorious, during her lifetime, for her multiple affairs and marriages. On the rebound from an earlier romance she met her first husband, Harvard graduate Philip Simmons Hichborn[5] (1882–1912), the son of a rear-admiral. She eloped with him and they were married on December 13, 1906, when she was 20. She had a son by him, Philip Simmons Hichborn, Jr., born September 22, 1907 in Washington, D.C. However, "Hichborn, a would-be poet, was emotionally unstable",[5] and Elinor found herself in an unhappy marriage.

    She also found herself being stalked by Horace Wylie, "a Washington lawyer with a wife and three children", who "was 17 years older than Elinor. He stalked her for years, appearing wherever she was."[7]

    Following the death in November 1910 of Elinor's father, and unable to secure a divorce from Hichborn,[3] she left her husband and son, and eloped with Wylie.

    "After being ostracized by their families and friends and mistreated in the press, the couple moved to England"[8] where they lived "under the assumed name of Waring; this event caused a scandal in the Washington, D.C., social circles Elinor Wylie had frequented".[5] Philip Simmons Hichborn Sr. committed suicide in 1912.

    With Horace Wylie's encouragement, in 1912 Elinor anonymously published Incidental Number, a small book of poems she had written in the previous decade.[5]

    Between 1914 and 1916, Elinor tried to have a second child, but "suffered several miscarriages ... as well as a stillbirth and ... a premature child who died after one week."[5]

    After Horace Wylie's wife agreed to a divorce, the couple returned to the United States and lived in three different states "under the stress of social ostracism and Elinor's illness." Elinor and Horace Wylie officially married in 1916, after Elinor's first husband had committed suicide and Horace's first wife had divorced him. By then, however, the couple were drawing apart."[5]

    Elinor began spending time in literary circles in New York City—"her friends there numbered John Peale Bishop, Edmund Wilson, John Dos Passos, Sinclair Lewis, Carl Van Vechten, and ... William Rose Benét."[5]

    Her last marriage (in 1923)[9] was to William Rose Benét (February 2, 1886 – May 4, 1950), who was part of her literary circle and brother of Stephen Vincent Benét. By the time Wylie's third book of poetry, Trivial Breath in 1928 appeared, her marriage with Benét was also in trouble, and they had agreed to live apart. She moved to England and fell in love with the husband of a friend, Henry de Clifford Woodhouse, to whom she wrote a series of 19 sonnets which she published privately in 1928 as Angels and Earthly Creatures (also included in her 1929 book of the same name).[8]

    Career

    Vanity Fair magazine (cover by John Held, Jr.), where Wylie worked 1923-1925
    Elinor Wylie's literary friends encouraged her to submit her verse to Poetry magazine. Poetry published four of her poems, including what became "her most widely anthologized poem, 'Velvet Shoes'", in May 1920. With Benét now acting as her informal literary agent,[5] "Wylie left her second husband and moved to New York in 1921".[8] The Dictionary of Literary Biography (DLB) says: "She captivated the literary world with her slender, tawny-haired beauty, personal elegance, acid wit, and technical virtuosity."[5]

    In 1921, Wylie's first commercial book of poetry, Nets to Catch the Wind, was published. The book, "which many critics still consider to contain her best poems," was an immediate success. Edna St. Vincent Millay and Louis Untermeyer praised the work.[5] The Poetry Society awarded her its Julia Ellsworth Ford Prize.[4]

    In 1923 she published Black Armor, which was "another successful volume of verse".[5] The New York Times enthused: "There is not a misplaced word or cadence in it. There is not an extra syllable."[10]

    1923 also saw the publication of Wylie's first novel, Jennifer Lorn, to considerable fanfare. Van Vechten "organized a torchlight parade through Manhattan to celebrate its publication".[5] She would write "four historical novels widely admired when first published, although interest in them diminished in the masculine era of the 1940s and 50s".[6]

    According to Carl Van Doren, Wylie had "as sure and strong an intelligence" as he has ever known. Her novels were "flowers with roots reaching down into unguessed deeps of erudition."[3]

    She worked as the poetry editor of Vanity Fair magazine between 1923 and 1925. She was an editor of Literary Guild, and a contributing editor of The New Republic, from 1926 through 1928.[5]

    Wylie was an "admirer of the British Romantic poets, and particularly of Shelley, to a degree that some critics have seen as abnormal".[5] "A friend claimed she was 'positively dotty' about Shelley, not just making him her model in art and life but on occasion actually 'seeing' the dead poet."[6] She wrote a 1926 novel, The Orphan Angel, in which "the great young poet is rescued from drowning off an Italian cape and travels to America, where he encounters the dangers of the frontier."[5]

    By the time of Wylie's third book of poetry, Trivial Breath in 1928, her marriage with Benét was also in trouble, and they had agreed to live apart. She moved to England and fell in love with the husband of a friend, Henry de Clifford Woodhouse, to whom she wrote a series of 19 sonnets which she published privately in 1928 as Angels and Earthly Creatures (also included in her 1929 book of the same name).[8]

    Elinor Wylie's literary output is impressive, given that her writing career lasted just eight years. In that brief period, she crowded four volumes of poems, four novels, and enough magazine articles to "make up an additional volume."[3]

    Death
    Wylie suffered from very high blood pressure all her adult life. As a result, she was prone to unbearable migraines and died of a stroke at Benét's New York apartment at the age of forty-three. At the time, they were both preparing for publication her Angels and Earthly Creatures.[5]


    https://www.poemhunter.com/elinor-morton-wylie/poems/

    Elinor Morton Wylie
    Five Poems by Elinor Morton Wylie

    (1.)
    Escape

    When foxes eat the last gold grape,
    And the last white antelope is killed,
    I shall stop fighting and escape
    Into a little house I'll build.

    But first I'll shrink to fairy size,
    With a whisper no one understands,
    Making blind moons of all your eyes,
    And muddy roads of all your hands.

    And you may grope for me in vain
    In hollows under the mangrove root,
    Or where, in apple-scented rain,
    The silver wasp-nests hang like fruit.
    Elinor Morton Wylie

    (2.)
    Fire And Sleet And Candlelight'

    For this you've striven
    Daring, to fail:
    Your sky is riven
    Like a tearing veil.

    For this, you've wasted
    Wings of your youth;
    Divined, and tasted
    Bitter springs of truth.

    From sand unslakèd
    Twisted strong cords,
    And wandering naked
    Among trysted swords.

    There's a word unspoken,
    A knot untied.
    Whatever is broken
    The earth may hide.

    The road was jagged
    Over sharp stones:
    Your body's too ragged
    To cover your bones.

    The wind scatters
    Tears upon dust;
    Your soul's in tatters
    Where the spears thrust.
    Elinor Morton Wylie


    (3.)
    Incantation

    A white well
    In a black cave;
    A bright shell
    In a dark wave.

    A white rose
    Black brambles hood;
    Smooth bright snows
    In a dark wood.

    A flung white glove
    In a dark fight;
    A white dove
    On a wild black night.

    A white door
    In a dark lane;
    A bright core
    To bitter black pain.

    A white hand
    Waved from dark walls;
    In a burnt black land
    Bright waterfalls.

    A bright spark
    Where black ashes are;
    In the smothering dark
    One white star.
    Elinor Morton Wylie

    (4.)
    Les Lauriers Sont Coupée

    Ah, love, within the shadow of the wood
    The laurels are cut down; some other brows
    May bear the classic wreath which Fame allows
    And find the burden honorable and good.
    Have we not passed the laurels as they stood--
    Soft in the veil with which Spring endows
    The wintry glitter of their woven boughs--
    Nor stopped to break the branches while we could?

    Ah, love, for other brows they are cut down.
    Thornless and scentless are their stems and flowers,
    And cold as death their twisted coronal.
    Sweeter to us the sharpness of this crown;
    Sweeter the wildest roses which are ours;
    Sweeter the petals, even when they fall.
    Elinor Morton Wylie

    (5.)
    Little Joke - Poem by Elinor Morton Wylie

    Stripping an almond tree in flower
    The wise apothecary's skill
    A single drop of lethal power
    From perfect sweetness can distill

    From bitterness in efflorescence,
    With murderous poisons packed therein;
    The poet draws pellucid essence
    Pure as a drop of metheglin.
    Elinor Morton Wylie

    ********************
    These two poems composed to honor this truly great poet....

    (1.)
    Heaven Smiles And Its Light Awaits

    Icy winds have died, winter fled
    Hope has sung, Spring has sprung
    Love and promise have wed
    new life's radiant glow has brung
    music to wake the dead.

    Faded are snows that graced the trees
    white colors that adorned
    forest glens far from seas
    Nature's gifts, its dear christened born
    cast from Love's seeded pleas.

    Icy winds have died, winter fled
    Hope has sung, Spring has sprung
    Love and promise have wed
    new life's radiant glow has brung
    music to wake the dead.

    As Life and Love, partner with Fate.
    Heaven smiles and its Light awaits.

    Robert J. Lindley, 3-27-2020
    Rhyme, Lin 86686 form
    ( Wherein Life And Spring This Dark Racing World Renews )
    Syllables Per Line:8 6 6 8 6 0 8 6 6 8 6 0 8 6 6 8 6 0 8 8
    Total # Syllables::118
    Total # Words::::::96

    Note- Tribute poem composed for fourth poet, ( Elinor Wylie )
    in my, -- "Lesser Known Poets Series".
    See my new blog on this majestically talented and amazing poet.....


    (2.)
    From Within Earth's Red Blooms Love Quickly Flew

    Of those sweet tender kisses-- I recall
    Images that set fiery flames a'leaping
    Warming hearts in truest love did swiftly fall
    While Cupid through keyhole was a'peeping
    From within earth's red blooms love quickly flew
    As both yellow moon, twinkling stars did glow
    Our eager hearts and eyes meeting we knew
    Chained in golden paradise sent to grow,
    In romance wedded to be great treasure
    Nights of bliss to be our glittering gems
    Time setting pure joy well beyond measure
    We to become intertwining rose stems,
    Flowers shining in garden of true love
    Two cast into one, by Heavens above.

    Robert J. Lindley, 3-27-2020
    Sonnet, ( Depths Of Love Those So Truly Blessed Know )
    Syllables Per Line:10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10
    Total # Syllables::140
    Total # Words::::::100

    Note-
    Tribute poem composed for fourth poet, ( Elinor Wylie )
    in my, -- "Lesser Known Poets Series".
    See my new blog on this majestically talented and amazing poet...
    Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; 03-27-2020 at 06:53 PM.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    Words Of Light, Life, Promise And Absent Of Fear And Dread - Robert Lindley's Blog
    About Robert Lindley(Show Details...)(Show Details...)






    Home Past Blogs Poems Photos Fav Poems Fav Poets
    Words Of Light, Life, Promise And Absent Of Fear And Dread
    Blog Posted:4/8/2020 7:07:00 PM

    NEW POEM:

    Give Me The Chiming Of Morn's Sweetest Call,
    Words Of Hope And Nature's Beauty



    Give me the chiming of morn's sweetest call
    And dawning of new light shining with glee
    Those days of joy, peace and treasured recalls
    Bountiful harvests, glorious fruit trees;

    And that feeling of life will be alright
    The rustling of Autumn's old fallen leaves
    Geese flying overhead, O' what a sight
    Beautiful starlings nested in the eaves.

    That hum of bees in meadows of bright gold
    Fields of wheat, blowing as an ocean wave
    Life and Love, romantic stories retold
    Those gems one must hold and savor to save.

    Blessings of peace, of treasures of Love's touch.
    Morn's Promise, Faith, Hope, and all other such!

    Robert J. Lindley, 4-08-2020,
    Sonnet, ( Words Of Light, Life, Promise And Absent Of Fear And Dread )


    Note-- I have written 4 dark poems in these last 4 days.
    Today I decided to purge that dark , that dread out of
    me and write of Light, Life, Love, Nature, Promise,
    Hope, Faith, Beauty and Nature.
    The dark poems can always be presented later. This
    one should be presented now. Hoping it gives others
    a needed lift and a thought of how one day this too
    shall pass.. God Bless...


    ************************************************** *********

    I read this shown below in my recent research and it
    inspired me to write today. To write with renewed hope, with new heart and without the fear
    now being promoted worldwide at a horrendous, breakneck pace. Robert J. Lindley...

    ************************************************

    Opinion


    The Gift of Poetry
    Nov. 20, 2002


    See the article in its original context from November 20, 2002, Section A, Page 22Buy Reprints
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    Late last Friday Joseph Parisi, the editor of Poetry magazine, announced that Ruth Lilly, an aspiring poet and a granddaughter of Eli Lilly, had given the magazine $100 million. One imagines lots of things that might have made a difference to the state of poetry over the years, like someone handing Shelley updated weather advice as he left the dock, or talking Sylvia Plath into reconsidering at the last moment. But this bequest is pretty hard to beat.

    It more or less frees Poetry, which is published by the Modern Poetry Association, from the kind of financial constraints that most magazines have to worry about. And it does so without ethical compromise, since the magazine has always rejected Ms. Lilly's poetry submissions in the past and will, no doubt, continue to judge them with its usual critical acuity.

    One assumes that most people know that poets don't make a lot of money from publishing poems. If you're good enough to have a sonnet accepted and printed in Poetry, you make $2 a line, or $28 total. Making a sonnet is no accident, and making one good enough to stand in the company of the poets that appear in Poetry is indeed the art of a lifetime, whereas $28 is about half the hourly rate of a decent auto mechanic. It is unlikely that Poetry will use Ms. Lilly's gift to raise rates to a level that will be more than honorific, though they will go up some. Instead the money will help increase the staff at the magazine, give it a new home and, most important, expand its programs designed to encourage the writing of poetry and enlarge its audience.

    This was not Ms. Lilly's first gift to Poetry and the Modern Poetry Association. Her name adorns the Ruth Lilly Fellowships and the Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize, which amounts to $100,000 and was given this year to Lisel Mueller. At the moment the tendency is to gaze in wonder at the scale of Ms. Lilly's benefaction. But what will really matter, of course, is the effect her gift has over the years and years to come. Ms. Lilly, who is 87 and in ill health, may not have published her poems for posterity's benefit, but she has found a way to benefit posterity nonetheless.


    https://www.nytimes.com/2002/11/20/o...of-poetry.html
    We are continually improving the quality of our text archives. Please send feedback, error reports, and suggestions to archive_feedback@nytimes.com.
    A version of this article appears in print on Nov. 20, 2002, Section A, Page 22 of the National edition with the headline: The Gift of Poetry. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe
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    When Light Penetrates The Fog Of Fear And Darkness, subject faith, truth and poetry - Robert Lindley's Blog
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    When Light Penetrates The Fog Of Fear And Darkness, subject faith, truth and poetry
    Blog Posted:4/10/2020 6:38:00 AM

    New Poem:


    When Light Penetrates The Fog Of Fear And Darkness

    When Light through the keyhole penetrates the malaise
    And within that moment your soul gives sincere praise
    For that divine gift that Life's sweet promise resets
    Earth's clock to those times before this darkness beset
    Know Truth and eternal Light never mankind fails
    To conquer anything issued from pits of Hell.

    Darkness fears not man but rather eternal Light.
    On earth, we are in midst of that eternal fight.

    When Light through the keyhole penetrates blackest Dark
    And waking soul finds that Life is not just a lark
    Path is made to from within the black walk away
    Leave blinded fold and in earnest begin to pray.
    World parades its great evils as the one true way
    And sets foundation for man's greed to hold deepest sway.

    Darkness fears not man but rather eternal Light.
    On earth, we are in midst of that eternal fight.

    When Light through the keyhole penetrates our sorrows
    And we feel true fright and fear for our tomorrows
    Truth reveals Light banishes that deep wicked fear
    As echoes of paradise draws ever more near
    Know eternal Light, Truth and Time is on our side
    In that promise, certainty of man's saving tides.

    Darkness fears not man but rather eternal Light.
    On earth, we are in midst of that eternal fight.

    Robert J. Lindley, 4-07-2020
    Rhyme, ( When Eyes Are Opened To The Blessings Of True Light )

    Syllables Per Line:
    00 12 -(Title)
    0 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12
    0 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12
    0 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12
    Total # Syllables: 300
    Total # Words::::::224


    Note: This is a revamping of an older poem.
    One written four decades ago when I was a
    mere twenty-six years old and then faced
    a time of darkest dark in my life. I have
    revamped it to modern times to address
    this dark plague that the world faces now
    and to yet again point out that the eternal
    truth that mankind has a great purpose
    than out time here on earth is a mere blink
    of the eye. And nothing, nothing, nothing
    can ever even come close to defeating that
    our fated destiny.
    Death and Darkness are only temporary,
    while Light and Divine Promise is Eternal.


    **********************************************
    (1.)
    http://inters.org/lumen-fidei-francis


    The theological meaning of Light according to Lumen Fidei
    The encyclical Lumen Fidei is the first document of Pope Francis’ pontificate. We suggest that our readers review numbers 1-4 (see below), which summarize the symbolism of light in reference to faith, as they appear in Sacred Scripture and are discussed in the patristic and theological Tradition (for interested visitors: the complete text is available on the Holy See web site). These paragraphs offer a short historical account of the evolution of the conception of faith as “light”, ranging from the novelty brought by Christianity in the pagan Roman world to modern thought’s critique of it, and conclude by affirming the value of the light of faith not only for Christians, but also for every man and woman.


    1. The light of Faith: this is how the Church’s tradition speaks of the great gift brought by Jesus. In John’s Gospel, Christ says of himself: "I have come as light into the world, that whoever believes in me may not remain in darkness" (Jn 12:46). Saint Paul uses the same image: "God who said ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ has shone in our hearts" (2 Cor 4:6). The pagan world, which hungered for light, had seen the growth of the cult of the sun god, Sol Invictus, invoked each day at sunrise. Yet though the sun was born anew each morning, it was clearly incapable of casting its light on all of human existence. The sun does not illumine all reality; its rays cannot penetrate to the shadow of death, the place where men’s eyes are closed to its light. "No one — Saint Justin Martyr writes — has ever been ready to die for his faith in the sun".[1] Conscious of the immense horizon which their faith opened before them, Christians invoked Jesus as the true sun "whose rays bestow life". [2] To Martha, weeping for the death of her brother Lazarus, Jesus said: "Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?" (Jn 11:40). Those who believe, see; they see with a light that illumines their entire journey, for it comes from the risen Christ, the morning star which never sets.

    2. Yet in speaking of the light of faith, we can almost hear the objections of many of our contemporaries. In modernity, that light might have been considered sufficient for societies of old, but was felt to be of no use for new times, for a humanity come of age, proud of its rationality and anxious to explore the future in novel ways. Faith thus appeared to some as an illusory light, preventing mankind from boldly setting out in quest of knowledge. The young Nietzsche encouraged his sister Elisabeth to take risks, to tread "new paths… with all the uncertainty of one who must find his own way", adding that "this is where humanity’s paths part: if you want peace of soul and happiness, then believe, but if you want to be a follower of truth, then seek".[3] Belief would be incompatible with seeking. From this starting point Nietzsche was to develop his critique of Christianity for diminishing the full meaning of human existence and stripping life of novelty and adventure. Faith would thus be the illusion of light, an illusion which blocks the path of a liberated humanity to its future.

    3. In the process, faith came to be associated with darkness. There were those who tried to save faith by making room for it alongside the light of reason. Such room would open up wherever the light of reason could not penetrate, wherever certainty was no longer possible. Faith was thus understood either as a leap in the dark, to be taken in the absence of light, driven by blind emotion, or as a subjective light, capable perhaps of warming the heart and bringing personal consolation, but not something which could be proposed to others as an objective and shared light which points the way. Slowly but surely, however, it would become evident that the light of autonomous reason is not enough to illumine the future; ultimately the future remains shadowy and fraught with fear of the unknown. As a result, humanity renounced the search for a great light, Truth itself, in order to be content with smaller lights which illumine the fleeting moment yet prove incapable of showing the way. Yet in the absence of light everything becomes confused; it is impossible to tell good from evil, or the road to our destination from other roads which take us in endless circles, going nowhere.

    4. There is an urgent need, then, to see once again that faith is a light, for once the flame of faith dies out, all other lights begin to dim. The light of faith is unique, since it is capable of illuminating every aspect of human existence. A light this powerful cannot come from ourselves but from a more primordial source: in a word, it must come from God. Faith is born of an encounter with the living God who calls us and reveals his love, a love which precedes us and upon which we can lean for security and for building our lives. Transformed by this love, we gain fresh vision, new eyes to see; we realize that it contains a great promise of fulfilment, and that a vision of the future opens up before us. Faith, received from God as a supernatural gift, becomes a light for our way, guiding our journey through time. On the one hand, it is a light coming from the past, the light of the foundational memory of the life of Jesus which revealed his perfectly trustworthy love, a love capable of triumphing over death. Yet since Christ has risen and draws us beyond death, faith is also a light coming from the future and opening before us vast horizons which guide us beyond our isolated selves towards the breadth of communion. We come to see that faith does not dwell in shadow and gloom; it is a light for our darkness. Dante, in the Divine Comedy, after professing his faith to Saint Peter, describes that light as a "spark, which then becomes a burning flame and like a heavenly star within me glimmers".[4] It is this light of faith that I would now like to consider, so that it can grow and enlighten the present, becoming a star to brighten the horizon of our journey at a time when mankind is particularly in need of light.
    from Franciscus, Encyclical Lumen Fidei, 2013, June 29, nn. 1-4.

    [1] Dialogus cum Tryphone Iudaeo, 121, 2: PG 6, 758.

    [2] Clement of Alexandria, Protrepticus, IX: PG 8, 195.

    [3] Brief an Elisabeth Nietzsche (11 June 1865), in: Werke in drei Bänden, München, 1954, 953ff.

    [4] Paradiso XXIV, 145-147.


    ************************************************
    (2.)

    https://interestingliterature.com/20...sh-literature/


    LITERATURE
    10 of the Best Religious Poems in English Literature
    The best religious poems selected by Dr Oliver Tearle

    What are the best religious poems in English literature? Obviously religious faith – and, indeed, religious doubt – has loomed large in English poetry, whether it’s in the devotional lyrics of John Donne and George Herbert or the modern, secular musings of Philip Larkin in ‘Church Going’. We’ve excluded longer works such as John Milton’s epic Paradise Lost, although naturally that’s a must-read work of English religious poetry, just conceived on a different scale from what we have here.


    Caedmon, Hymn. Perhaps the oldest poem written in English, Caedmon’s Hymn was composed in the 7th century by a goatherd and takes the form of a short hymn in praise of God. It was Bede, or ‘the Venerable Bede’ as he is often known, who ensured the survival of Caedmon’s Hymn, when he jotted it down in Latin translation in one of his books. An anonymous scribe then added the Anglo-Saxon form of the hymn in the margins of Bede’s book.

    William Dunbar, ‘Done is a battell on the dragon blak’. This poem, by the medieval Scottish poet William Dunbar (c. 1465-c. 1530), boasts one of the finest opening lines in all medieval poetry. The rest of the poem is pretty good, too. It takes as its theme the Resurrection, and casts Christ as a crusading knight, so it’s a hugely exciting piece of sacred poetry.

    John Donne, ‘A Hymn to God the Father’. We could easily have chosen one of Donne’s celebrated Holy Sonnets here, but his ‘Hymn to God the Father’ offers something nicely representative of Donne’s style in his best religious verse. Donne is not aiming to sing God’s praises uncritically: rather, he wishes to ask God about sin and forgiveness, among other things. The to-and-fro of the poem’s rhyme schemes, where its stanzas are rhymed ababab, reinforces this idea of question-and-answer. The poem is a sort of confessional, containing Donne’s trademark directness and honesty, and sees him seeking forgiveness from God for his sins, while also confessing that he will continue to sin (he cannot help it) and that he fears death – another sin to add to the list. Donne then seeks reassurance from God that he will be forgiven and will reach Heaven.


    George Herbert, ‘The Collar’. George Herbert (1593-1633) is one of the greatest devotional poets in the English language, and ‘The Collar’ one of his finest poems. Herbert’s speaker seeks to reject belief in God, to cast off his ‘collar’ and be free. (The collar refers specifically to the ‘dog collar’ that denotes a Christian priest, with its connotations of ownership and restricted freedom, though it also suggests being bound or restricted more generally. Herbert, we should add, was a priest himself.) However, as he rants and raves, the speaker comes to realise that God appears to be calling him – and the speaker duly and dutifully replies, the implication being that he has recovered his faith and is happy to bear the ‘collar’ of faith again.

    Henry Vaughan, ‘They Are All Gone into the World of Light’. The Welsh metaphysical poet Henry Vaughan (1621-95) is best known for his 1650 collection, Silex Scintillans (‘Sparks from the Flint’), which established him as one of the great devotional poets in English literature. ‘They Are All Gone into the World of Light’ is about death, God, and the afterlife, and the poet’s desire to pass over into the next life – the ‘World of Light’ – to join those whom he has lost.


    Alfred, Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam. ‘There lives more faith in honest doubt, / Believe me, than in half the creeds’. These lines from this long 1850 elegy for Tennyson’s friend – perhaps his finest achievement – strike to the core of the greatness of Tennyson’s poem, which, as T. S. Eliot said, was a great religious poem not because of the quality of its faith, but because of the quality of its doubt. By the end of this long cycle of moving poems, Tennyson has conquered his doubts and his faith in God has been restored.

    Christina Rossetti, ‘Good Friday’. This poem was published in Christina Rossetti’s 1866 collection The Prince’s Progress and Other Poems. The poem is about Rossetti’s struggle to feel close to Christ and the teachings of Christianity, and to weep for the sacrifice he made. Like Tennyson’s In Memoriam above, the poem reflects many Victorians’ difficulties in reconciling Christianity with the new worldview influenced by recent philosophy and scientific discoveries.

    Thomas Hardy, ‘The Oxen’. Sometimes a great sacred poem is written by a poet who is not himself religious, and such as the case with ‘The Oxen’. Written in 1915 during WWI, this poem shows a yearning for childhood beliefs which the adult speaker can no longer hold. In other words, it highlights the yearning to believe, even – or perhaps especially – when we know that we cannot bring ourselves to entertain such beliefs. (Hardy had lost his religious faith early in life.)


    T. S. Eliot, Ash-Wednesday. The first long poem Eliot composed after his conversion to Anglo-Catholicism in 1927, the six-part sequence Ash-Wednesday is about Eliot’s struggle to cleanse and purify himself so that he might be renewed and find deeper spiritual fulfilment. Using Dantean and Biblical tropes of stairwells, gardens, and bones being picked apart by leopards, the poem is at times frustratingly abstract (there is lots of wordplay around ‘the Word’, i.e. the Word of God) and at other times, marvellously vivid. Ash-Wednesday is the great modernist religious poem in English.

    Philip Larkin, ‘Church Going’. A meditation on the role of the church in a secular age, written by a poet who described himself as an ‘Anglican agnostic’, ‘Church Going’ is one of Larkin’s most popular poems from The Less Deceived. In the poem, the speaker of the poem visits a church on one of his bicycle rides and stops to have a look inside – though he isn’t sure why he stopped. The title carries a double meaning: both going to church (if only to look around, rather than to worship there), and the going or disappearing of churches, and the Church, from British life.

    For more classic poetry, see our pick of the best poems about heaven. If you’re in search of a good poetry collection, we recommend The Oxford Book of English Verse – perhaps the best poetry anthology on the market.


    The author of this article, Dr Oliver Tearle, is a literary critic and lecturer in English at Loughborough University. He is the author of, among others, The Secret Library: A Book-Lovers’ Journey Through Curiosities of History and The Great War, The Waste Land and the Modernist Long Poem.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    I previously forgot to post this 5th blog in the lesser known poets series.--Tyr

    For, A Look Into Lesser Known Poets, A Series, ( 5th.) Poet, Felicia Dorothea Hemans
    Blog Posted:3/31/2020 9:57:00 AM
    TO HONOR FIFTH POET- FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS
    (1A.)
    Felicia Dorothea Hemans
    1793–1835

    Born in Liverpool, England, Romantic poet Felicia Dorothea Hemans was the daughter of a merchant and a granddaughter of the consul, and the fifth of seven children. The family relocated to Wales following a period of financial difficulty in 1800. A voracious and early reader, Hemans made use of an extensive home library and was instructed by her mother in several languages. She spent two winters in London as a child, and was captivated by the classical art she saw there.

    Hemans published her first collection, Poems (1808), at the age of 14. She married Captain Alfred Hemans in 1812, and together they had five children. However, her husband did not return from a trip to Italy in 1818, and from then on Hemans had to support her family with the income from her poetry.

    Influenced by William Wordsworth and Lord Byron, Hemans’s poetry was published in 19 volumes, including The Domestic Affections and other Poems (1812), Records of Woman: With Other Poems (1828), and Siege of Valencia (1823). Her metrically assured poems often explore domestic and romantic themes.

    1. Sonnet To Italy
    - Poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans

    FOR thee, Ansonia! Nature's bounteous hand,
    Luxuriant spreads around her blooming stores;
    Profusion laughs o'er all the glowing land,
    And softest breezes from thy myrtle-shores.

    Yet though for thee, unclouded suns diffuse
    Their genial radiance o'er thy blushing plains;
    Though in thy fragrant groves the sportive muse
    Delights to pour her wild, enchanted strains;

    Though airs that breathe of paradise are thine,
    Sweet as the Indian, or Arabian gales;
    Though fruitful olive and empurpling vine,
    Enrich, fair Italy! thy Alpine vales;
    Yet far from thee inspiring freedom flies,
    To Albion's coast and ever-varying skies!
    Felicia Dorothea Hemans

    2. The Hour Of Prayer - Poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans

    Child, amidst the flowers at play,
    While the red light fades away;
    Mother, with thine earnest eye,
    Ever following silently;
    Father, by the breeze of eve,
    Call'd thy harvest-work to leave -
    Pray: ere yet the dark hours be,
    Lift the heart, and bend the knee!

    Traveller, in the stranger's land,
    Far from thine own household band;
    Mourner, haunted by the tone
    Of a voice from this world gone;
    Captive, in whose narrow cell
    Sunshine hath not leave to dwell;
    Sailor, on the dark'ning sea-
    Lift the heart, and bend the knee!

    Warrior, that from battle won,
    Breathest now at set of sun;
    Woman, o'er the lowly slain,
    Weeping on his burial plain:
    Ye that triumph, ye that sigh,
    Kindred by one holy tie,
    Heaven's first star alike ye see-
    Lift the heart, and bend the knee!
    Felicia Dorothea Hemans

    3.
    To Wordsworth
    BY FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS
    There is a strain to read among the hills,
    The old and full of voices — by the source
    Of some free stream, whose gladdening presence fills
    The solitude with sound; for in its course
    Even such is thy deep song, that seems a part
    Of those high scences, a fountain from the heart.

    Or its calm spirit fitly may be taken
    To the still breast in sunny garden bowers,
    Where vernal winds each tree’s low tones awaken,
    And bud and bell with changes mark the hours.
    There let thy thoughts be with me, while the day
    Sinks with a golden and serene decay.

    Or by some hearth where happy faces meet,
    When night hath hushed the woods, with all their birds,
    There, from some gentle voice, that lay were sweet
    As antique music, linked with household words;
    While in pleased murmurs woman’s lip might move,
    And the raised eye of childhood shine in love.

    Or where the shadows of dark solemn yews
    Brood silently o’er some lone burial-ground,
    Thy verse hath power that brightly might diffuse
    A breath, a kindling, as of spring, around;
    From its own glow of hope and courage high,
    And steadfast faith’s victorious constancy.

    True bard and holy! — thou art e’en as one
    Who, by some secret gift of soul or eye,
    In every spot beneath the smiling sun,
    Sees where the springs of living waters lie;
    Unseen awhile they sleep — till, touched by thee,
    Bright healthful waves flow forth, to each glad wanderer free.
    BY FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS

    Read perhaps her greatest poem- Not shown here.
    The Sword Of The Tomb : A Northern Legend - Poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans

    ************************************************** ****************
    For Lesser Known Poets Series,
    These poems composed to honor this truly great poet....

    (1.)
    Soothing Dream, Bathe Me In Her Light

    Of lonely night and vivid dread
    sad supper and large empty bed
    denying wind, sets soul to stir
    romantic memories of her
    she, tender angel through and through
    only true love I ever knew!

    Soothing dream, bathe me in her light,
    sail sweet passionate seas tonight!

    Of our past days, beach sand and sun
    cheers, smiles, and laughter, O' what fun
    she a wonder, beauty that gave
    her soul to love and love to save
    gifting hope to a lonely man
    set to dream all he ever can!

    Soothing dream, bathe me in her light,
    sail sweet passionate seas tonight!

    Of dancing under soft moonlight
    kissing so sweet holding so tight
    her morning touch, treasure thus found
    love's joyous, chains forever bound
    begging time to wait, to stand still
    I love her true and always will!

    Soothing dream, bathe me in her light,
    sail sweet passionate seas tonight!

    Robert J. Lindley, 3-29-2020
    Rhyme,
    ( Romantic Dreaming, A Star That Once Was,
    Soothing Dream, Bathing Within Tender Light)


    (2.)

    For This Aching Love, I Feel In My Bones

    For this Love, I feel in my bones
    desires, wine pressed from fire-stones
    pleasures set to music, and glee
    rapture of freedoms, given me
    for this my mind dwells, on dear life
    for this I endure, world's dark knife!

    For this Love, I shed sweat and blood
    from far above, pours lively flood
    within June's soft castle a smell
    within heart's valiant truth, a spell
    for this my soul, yearns true and cries
    for this my eyes, search deep blue skies!

    For this Love, I give my great all
    from looming depths spirit recalls
    tall mountains beyond sweetest dreams
    there, wherein lies Hope's promised streams
    for this- my journey, often bold
    for this- my pledge, truth to be told!

    For this Love, I feel in my bones
    desires, wine pressed from fire-stones
    pleasures set to music, and glee
    rapture of freedoms, given me
    for this my mind dwells, on dear life
    for this I endure, world's dark knife!

    Robert J. Lindley, 3-12-2020
    Rhyme, ( For The Love Of Poetry I Dare To Splash Ink
    )

    (3.)

    Times At Heart, Romancing Opera, Else A Dying Clown

    Old age is too often an aching feast of dreaded dreads
    symphony of memories, prayers for those already dead
    or gasping look back at youthful vigor blindly wasted
    days of innocent searching for desserts not yet tasted
    dashing into red-canyons, rock walls scaled far too steep
    begging dreams paradise provided with much needed sleep!

    Time, at heart a slow dancing opera, a dying clown,
    Youth's bravado, that says, "To hell with it- bring it on down"!

    Old age a contemptible thought to we carefree and young
    oft groaning ballad, with violin playing, wrongly strung
    or morns that demand we rise to shock, fight another day
    defiance- wallowing onward as for more time we pray
    a nightmare, as we realize life is sad, far too short
    rocket ride, on an unknown mission, one can not abort!

    Time, at heart a slow dancing opera, a dying clown,
    Youth's bravado, that says, "To hell with it- bring it on down"!

    Old age may be a gift golden, full of joy's sweetest sprees
    a lark, sailing vacations on those blue colored seas
    or swirling blackened pool, its eternally spinning drain
    years of crying lonely, and cascading aches and deep pains
    yet life, its years are so very precious to have lived through
    for the alternative is that end, which is always due!

    Time, at heart a slow dancing opera, a dying clown,
    Youth's bravado, that says, "To hell with it- bring it on down"!

    Robert J. Lindley, 3- 30 2020...
    Rhyme,
    Quote:
    ("Knowledge by suffering entereth, And life is perfected by death.")
    by- Elizabeth Barrett Browning, A Vision of Poets (1844), last lines)
    ...
    Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; 04-12-2020 at 05:41 PM.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    Blog- On The Brighter Side Of Life, Heaven, Faith, Poetry And Song - Robert Lindley's Blog


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    Blog- On The Brighter Side Of Life, Heaven, Faith, Poetry And Song
    Blog Posted:4/14/2020 6:47:00 AM
    Blog- On The Brighter Side Of Life, Heaven, Faith, Poetry And Song


    Beauty There, Sweeter Than Morn's Softest Calls

    Lad, Heaven's bounty is treasure weighted
    Its only entrance, gold and pearl gated
    Angels guarding all that paradise gifts
    Light, Love, Truth, Faith that so deeply uplifts.

    Yes lad, all there is dearest and divine
    Love so pure, gifted from Trinity's vine
    Music that heart and soul forever hears
    Voices singing that brings forth happy tears.

    Believe lad, your faith is your salvation
    Do not embrace this world's imitation
    Walk a straight path, fear not your earthen death
    His sacrifice, tells Heaven give new breath.

    Know this my lad, from there lost soul was saved
    From world's Dark that is wickedly depraved
    Eternity and peace within its halls
    Beauty there, sweeter than morn's softest calls.

    Robert J. Lindley, 4-14-2020
    Rhyme, ( When Truth And Faith Gift Heavenly Bliss )

    Note- On the brighter side of life.........


    ************************************************** *




    (1.) youtube video link



    (2.) youtube video link



    (3.) youtube video link



    (4.)

    https://interestingliterature.com/20...-about-heaven/

    LITERATURE
    10 of the Best Poems about Heaven
    What are the most heavenly poems in all of literature? Selected by Dr Oliver Tearle

    Who deserves a place in heaven? And what is heaven like? Contemplating the former question and imagining an answer to the latter has occupied many a poet’s mind down the ages. Here are ten of the very best poems about heaven…

    Dante, The Divine Comedy. Composed in the early fourteenth century, Dante’s Divine Comedy is a trilogy of poems charting the poet’s journey from hell (Inferno) through Purgatory (Purgatorio) to heaven (Paradiso), guided by his fellow poet, Virgil. Featuring lakes of filth and farting demons, it’s much more fun than its theological subject might suggest, and it influenced a whole raft of later poets, especially T. S. Eliot and Ezra Pound. It’s even been called the ‘fifth Gospel’, so clearly and effectively does Dante detail the medieval view of Christianity. Specifically, the final part of the trilogy, Paradiso, is of particular interest here, where the poet is guided by his muse, Beatrice, to heaven.



    Edmund Spenser, from Amoretti. This poem, beginning ‘Oft when my spirit doth spread her bolder wings’, is part of Spenser’s sonnet sequence Amoretti. In summary, Spenser says that when he wishes to think of higher things, his mind is bogged down by thoughts of mortality; but he comes to the conclusion that the way to ensure happiness is to find heaven among earthly things.

    Robert Herrick, ‘To Heaven’. What does it mean to be worthy of a place in heaven? Herrick (1591-1674), one of the most popular of the Cavalier poets, wrote this very short and pithy poem about heaven, in which he asks that the sinful be given mercy and allowed in. If he himself is not granted entry, he will ‘force the gate’…

    Henry Vaughan, ‘The Retreat’. Henry Vaughan (1622-95) was a Welsh Metaphysical Poet, although his name is not quite so familiar as, say, Andrew Marvell. His poem ‘The Retreat’ (sometimes the original spelling, ‘The Retreate’, is preserved) is about the loss of heavenly innocence experienced during childhood, and a desire to regain this lost state of ‘angel infancy’.


    Emily Dickinson, ‘“Heaven” – is what I cannot reach!’ One of a number of poems Emily Dickinson wrote about heaven, this poem is about how paradise is always just out of reach, like an apple hanging just a little too high up on the tree. It is an ‘interdicted land’ – one, perhaps, we are not meant to find yet…

    Gerard Manley Hopkins, ‘Heaven-Haven’. The Jesuit poet Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-89), who was a contemporary of Tennyson and Browning although his work seems to anticipate the modernists in its daring experimentation and unusual imagery, wrote this short eight-line meditation on heaven, which he envisions as a place where ‘no storms come’.

    W. B. Yeats, ‘He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven’. The gist of this poem, one of Yeats’s most popular poems, is straightforward: if I were a rich man, I’d give you the world and all its treasures. If I were a god, I could take the heavenly sky and make a blanket out of it for you. But I’m only a poor man, and obviously the idea of making the sky into a blanket is silly and out of the question, so all I have of any worth are my dreams. And dreams are delicate and vulnerable – hence ‘Tread softly’.


    D. H. Lawrence, ‘New Heaven and Earth’. This 1917 poem is noteworthy because it is a longer modernist poem that responds to the First World War, and so prefigures a much more famous modernist poem, T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land. The poem’s speaker tells of his disillusionment with this world and its modern warfare and inventions and of his sense of release at having found a ‘new world’. But the poem has as much in common with Wilfred Owen’s poems highlighting the horrors of war as it has with Eliot’s later modernist poem.

    Rupert Brooke, ‘Heaven’. Heaven was much on Brooke’s mind when he ended ‘The Soldier’ with its image of ‘hearts at peace, under an English heaven’. But this earlier poem, composed in 1913 before the outbreak of the War, is altogether more playful, even satirical, than the war sonnets. ‘Heaven’ uses fish to make a comment on human piety, and specifically the reasons mankind offers for a belief in something more than one’s immediate surroundings (e.g. an afterlife – hence the title of the poem). Witty and well-constructed, ‘Heaven’ is an overlooked poem in Brooke’s oeuvre, but we think it’s one of his best.

    T. S. Eliot, ‘The Hippopotamus’. The premise of this poem is a comparison between the large African mammal and the Roman Catholic Church, which culminates with the hippopotamus being lifted up to heaven, surrounded by a choir of angels. Who is worthy of reaching heaven: someone who professes godliness but practises greed? Or the humble but ignorant hippo?


    Discover more classic poetry with these birthday poems, these scary Gothic poems, these religious poems, these poems about various jobs, and these great beach poems. For more classic poetry, we recommend The Oxford Book of English Verse – perhaps the best poetry anthology on the market (we offer our pick of the best poetry anthologies here).

    The author of this article, Dr Oliver Tearle, is a literary critic and lecturer in English at Loughborough University. He is the author of, among others, The Secret Library: A Book-Lovers’ Journey Through Curiosities of History and The Great War, The Waste Land and the Modernist Long Poem.
    ************************************************** *

    (1.)
    Winter Heavens
    by George Meredith
    Sharp is the night, but stars with frost alive
    Leap off the rim of earth across the dome.
    It is a night to make the heavens our home
    More than the nest whereto apace we strive.
    Lengths down our road each fir-tree seems a hive,
    In swarms outrushing from the golden comb.
    They waken waves of thoughts that burst to foam:
    The living throb in me, the dead revive.
    Yon mantle clothes us: there, past mortal breath,
    Life glistens on the river of the death.
    It folds us, flesh and dust; and have we knelt,
    Or never knelt, or eyed as kine the springs
    Of radiance, the radiance enrings:
    And this is the soul's haven to have felt.

    (2.)
    "Heavenly Father" -- take to thee
    by Emily Dickinson

    "Heavenly Father" -- take to thee
    The supreme iniquity
    Fashioned by thy candid Hand
    In a moment contraband --
    Though to trust us -- seems to us
    More respectful -- "We are Dust" --
    We apologize to thee
    For thine own Duplicity --

    (3.)
    Holy Sonnet VI: This Is My Play's Last Scene, Here Heavens Appoint
    by John Donne

    This is my play's last scene, here heavens appoint
    My pilgrimage's last mile; and my race
    Idly, yet quickly run, hath this last pace,
    My span's last inch, my minute's latest point,
    And gluttonous death, will instantly unjoint
    My body and soul, and I shall sleep a space;
    But my ever-waking part shall see that face,
    Whose fear already shakes my every joint:
    Then, as my soul, t' heaven her first seat, takes flight,
    And earth-born body in the earth shall dwell,
    So fall my sins that all may have their right
    (To where they're bred, and would press me) to hell.
    Impute me righteous, thus purged of evil,
    For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the devil.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    Lesser Known Poets Series- continued, 6th poet chosen, James Thomson
    Blog Posted:4/17/2020 5:40:00 AM
    Lesser Known Poets Series- continued,
    6th poet chosen, James Thomson


    (1.)
    The City of Dreadful Night
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    Find sources: "The City of Dreadful Night" – news · newspapers · books · scholar · JSTOR (September 2015)
    The City of Dreadful Night is a long poem by the Scottish poet James "B.V." Thomson, written between 1870 and 1873, and published in the National Reformer in 1874,[1] then in 1880 in a book entitled The City of Dreadful Night and Other Poems.

    Thomson, who sometimes used the pseudonym "Bysshe Vanolis" — in honour of Percy Bysshe Shelley and Novalis — was a thorough pessimist, suffering from lifelong melancholia and clinical depression, as well as a wanderlust that took him to Colorado and to Spain, among other places.

    The City of Dreadful Night that gave its title to this poem, however, was made in the image of London. The poem, despite its insistently bleak tone, won the praise of George Meredith, and also of George Saintsbury, who in A History of Nineteenth Century Literature wrote that "what saves Thomson is the perfection with which he expresses the negative and hopeless side of the sense of mystery ..."[citation needed]

    References
    Sullivan, Dick. ""Poison Mixed With Gall": James Thomson's The City of Dreadful Night — A Personal View". Retrieved 2008-09-29.
    External links
    Works related to The City of Dreadful Night at Wikisource
    Quotations related to James Thomson (B.V.) at Wikiquote
    The City of Dreadful Night at Project Gutenberg
    The City of Dreadful Night public domain audiobook at LibriVox
    Categories: British poemsScottish poemsFictional populated places in EnglandVictorian poetryWorks originally published in British magazinesWorks originally published in political magazines1874 poems

    (2.)
    The City of Dreadful Night. James Thomson: Laureate of Pessimism or Early Modernist?
    FEBRUARY 20, 2012 / AKIRKWOOD
    “It is a curious thing, do you know, Cranly said dispassionately, how your mind is supersaturated with the religion in which you say you disbelieve.”[1]

    Thomson has been referred to by many critics as a poet striving to find a voice in amongst the chaos, pessimism and mental confusion that marked the Victorian era and has variously been described as a social outsider, religious apostate and atheistic pessimist. Many critical studies of The City of Dreadful Night (1874) have described Thomson as a ‘laureate of pessimism’, stuck in his alienation to whom Faith, Love and Hope are dead. It is evident that Thomson’s work, up until 1860, reveals an anxiety in completely denouncing religious orthodoxy but after 1861, when he became more associated with Higher Criticism of the Bible and Darwinism, Thomson’s poetry took a more atheistic turn, culminating in the complete repudiation of religion in The City. Thomson explored his existential suffering in his poetry and essays and was undoubtedly responding to the pervasive nineteenth-century trend of feeling in the Victorian era of doubt which was largely brought about by the breakdown of orthodox religion, the dissolution of idealism and the destructive forces of growing industrialism.

    However, to simply read Thomson in this context; refusing to abandon the all too apparent limitations this proposes, becomes reductive. Too many tired critical tropes have boxed Thomson under the category ‘Victorian pessimist’, failing to see the “dialectic of light and darkness”[2] that permeates his poetry. I propose to argue that Thomson’s proclamation of atheism in The City helped to shape a modernist sensibility within his poetry, allowing him to present the themes of alienation and disillusionment in new and experimental ways. As Thomson became increasingly aware and critical of the aporias of dogmatic religion, he proclaimed his repudiation of Christianity and looked for something else to replace it. Thomson’s City is a canvass to explore the modern sensibility in which “Man is mired – take your choice – in the mass, in the machine, in the city, in a loss of faith, in the hopelessness of a life without anterior intention or terminal value.”[3] In The City, his proclamation of atheism is manifested in the attack and inversion of religious themes in order to emphasise the meaningless of existence in a world with no God or hope for salvation. However, these religious principles are in fact made more conspicuous through their absence, the result being that their form lingers and residues of meaning, which are nevertheless detached from their Christian source, are revealed and it is the poet’s task to re-attach this meaning to a different symbolic system.

    *************
    The City of Dreadful Night
    BY JAMES THOMSON (BYSSHE VANOLIS)

    As I came through the desert thus it was,
    As I came through the desert: All was black,
    In heaven no single star, on earth no track;
    A brooding hush without a stir or note,
    The air so thick it clotted in my throat;
    And thus for hours; then some enormous things
    Swooped past with savage cries and clanking wings:
    But I strode on austere;
    No hope could have no fear.

    As I came through the desert thus it was,
    As I came through the desert: Eyes of fire
    Glared at me throbbing with a starved desire;
    The hoarse and heavy and carnivorous breath
    Was hot upon me from deep jaws of death;
    Sharp claws, swift talons, fleshless fingers cold
    Plucked at me from the bushes, tried to hold:
    But I strode on austere;
    No hope could have no fear.

    As I came through the desert thus it was,
    As I came through the desert: Lo you, there,
    That hillock burning with a brazen glare;
    Those myriad dusky flames with points a-glow
    Which writhed and hissed and darted to and fro;
    A Sabbath of the Serpents, heaped pell-mell
    For Devil's roll-call and some fête of Hell:
    Yet I strode on austere;
    No hope could have no fear.

    As I came through the desert thus it was,
    As I came through the desert: Meteors ran
    And crossed their javelins on the black sky-span;
    The zenith opened to a gulf of flame,
    The dreadful thunderbolts jarred earth's fixed frame:
    The ground all heaved in waves of fire that surged
    And weltered round me sole there unsubmerged:
    Yet I strode on austere;
    No hope could have no fear.

    As I came through the desert thus it was,
    As I came through the desert: Air once more,
    And I was close upon a wild sea-shore;
    Enormous cliffs arose on either hand,
    The deep tide thundered up a league-broad strand;
    White foambelts seethed there, wan spray swept and flew;
    The sky broke, moon and stars and clouds and blue:
    And I strode on austere;
    No hope could have no fear.

    As I came through the desert thus it was,
    As I came through the desert: On the left
    The sun arose and crowned a broad crag-cleft;
    There stopped and burned out black, except a rim,
    A bleeding eyeless socket, red and dim;
    Whereon the moon fell suddenly south-west,
    And stood above the right-hand cliffs at rest:
    Still I strode on austere;
    No hope could have no fear.

    As I came through the desert thus it was,
    As I came through the desert: From the right
    A shape came slowly with a ruddy light;
    A woman with a red lamp in her hand,
    Bareheaded and barefooted on that strand;
    O desolation moving with such grace!
    O anguish with such beauty in thy face.
    I fell as on my bier,
    Hope travailed with such fear.

    As I came through the desert thus it was,
    As I came through the desert: I was twain,
    Two selves distinct that cannot join again;
    One stood apart and knew but could not stir,
    And watched the other stark in swoon and her;
    And she came on, and never turned aside,
    Between such sun and moon and roaring tide:
    And as she came more near
    My soul grew mad with fear.

    As I came through the desert thus it was,
    As I came through the desert: Hell is mild
    And piteous matched with that accursèd wild;
    A large black sign was on her breast that bowed,
    A broad black band ran down her snow-white shroud;
    That lamp she held was her own burning heart,
    Whose blood-drops trickled step by step apart;
    The mystery was clear;
    Mad rage had swallowed fear.

    As I came through the desert thus it was,
    As I came through the desert: By the sea
    She knelt and bent above that senseless me;
    Those lamp-drops fell upon my white brow there,
    She tried to cleanse them with her tears and hair;
    She murmured words of pity, love, and woe,
    She heeded not the level rushing flow:
    And mad with rage and fear,
    I stood stonebound so near.

    As I came through the desert thus it was,
    As I came through the desert: When the tide
    Swept up to her there kneeling by my side,
    She clasped that corpse-like me, and they were borne
    Away, and this vile me was left forlorn;
    I know the whole sea cannot quench that heart,
    Or cleanse that brow, or wash those two apart:
    They love; their doom is drear,
    Yet they nor hope nor fear;
    But I, what do I here?

    *************************

    Lesser Known Poets Series- continued,
    two poems written, honoring sixth poet chosen James Thomson


    (1.)

    As That Dawning Hour, In Her Journey She Knew She Was Too Late

    Beneath ashen skies and life's treasured ships - underneath deep tides,
    ghosts, remorse, memories, all lost in yesteryear's breath abides.

    She hurt, gone, life's truth that can never again be
    blissful passions that burn swellings of singing seas
    came aches, dreams lost, epic fluttering- heart's desires
    broken sight of that ring, within massively raging fires
    ghastly renderings of shattered hopes, faith without any gains
    relentless moaning throughout night's aching and torturous pains!

    Beneath ashen skies and life's treasured ships - underneath deep tides,
    ghosts, remorse, memories, all lost in yesteryear's breath abides.

    She found, old castle fallen down, in sad decay
    remembering youth a'callin', knelt she to pray
    amidst ruins that rumbled fiery flames in her soul
    to consume shattered disappointments of life wearily droll
    there within that moment, trepidation fanned sorrow's flames
    with trembling lips, she cried, "All this, my weeping heart truly blames"!

    Beneath ashen skies and life's treasured ships - underneath deep tides,
    ghosts, remorse, memories, all lost in yesteryear's breath abides.

    She knew, never more would sweetest of touch she feel
    fiery embers that from loving heart none can steal
    nights of love, ecstasy that seals desire's great need
    and from that epic dying of love's loss, she never be freed
    gasping as morbid thoughts delivered knowledge of Life and Fate
    as that dawning hour, in her journey she knew she was too late!

    Beneath ashen skies and life's treasured ships - underneath deep tides,
    ghosts, remorse, memories, all lost in yesteryear's breath abides.

    Robert J. Lindley, 4-17-2020
    Narrative (sad romance), ( The Agony Of True Love Lost And Its Truly Unbearable Pains )

    Quote:
    (“Hell was not a pit of fire and brimstone. Hell was waking up alone, the sheets
    wet with your tears and your seed, knowing the woman you had dreamed of would never
    come back to you.”) ? Lisa Kleypas, Seduce Me at Sunrise )

    Note: "Quote"
    Epic Loss and Dark are not always wed
    nor the calamity of dreaded dreads
    as spinning world churns its wicked abyss
    deepest of hurts is that true love we miss. (RJL- 1977)


    Syllables Per Line:
    0 15 15
    0 12 12 12 15 15 15
    0 15 15
    0 12 12 12 15 15 15
    0 15 15
    0 12 12 12 15 15 15
    0 15 15
    Total # Syllables:363
    Total # Words: 248
    ******************
    (2.)

    Breaking, Those Invisible Chains Once Holding Me

    waiting, until hurt yields its epic pains,
    victim of no worries, no risks, no gains

    wandering earthbound
    pondering no sound
    ghosting through life, as tormented lost soul
    ripped heart begging, come please fill this hole

    waiting, until hurt yields its epic pains,
    victim of no worries, no risks, no gains

    cascading earthbound
    evading profound
    fallen, into spirals of black despair
    tipped into blackness of its darken lair

    waiting, until hurt yields its epic pains,
    victim of no worries, no risks, no gains

    defending earthbound
    pretending sane-bound
    waking to gasps from life's abundant glee
    breaking, invisible chains holding me

    waiting, until light destroys dark remains,
    victor, claiming new joyous treasured gains

    Robert J. Lindley, 4-17-2020
    Rhyme, ( Life, Hope And What Was So Fated To Be )
    from- "a hard look back into speeding abyss of time"...


    Syllables Per Line:
    0 10 10
    0 5 5 10 10
    0 10 10
    0 5 5 10 10
    0 10 10
    0 5 5 10 10
    0 10 10
    Total # Syllables:170
    Total # Words:::::110
    Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; 04-17-2020 at 09:49 AM.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    On Mythology And Heroes, Part One (Medusa, monster hideous beyond comprehension) - Robert Lindley's Blog
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    On Mythology And Heroes, Part One (Medusa, monster hideous beyond comprehension)
    Blog Posted:5/8/2020 6:02:00 PM


    On Mythology And Heroes, Part One
    (Medusa, monster hideous beyond comprehension)


    All is there within Medusa's abhorrent gaze
    hiding in black-realms wherein monsters daily graze
    beyond that abyss, the roaring of aching screams
    from there impossible to see sun's golden beams
    pathways, hideous corridors painted with blood
    where dead love and dying dreams may forever flood!

    Eternal night, chambers of horror and wicked glee
    gripping fears that causing its victims to flee
    deeper into tangles of that consuming maze
    'til desperation stones heart, gifting pain's lost craze
    all blades of dark in her evil vicious stare
    depths of unmerciful cold- of that icy stare!

    Hopelessness, terrors searing into all within
    casting stony shadows into hearts of lost men
    warriors sent to slay that so cursed to monster be
    set as solid stone as they look at her to see
    Fate such victims into her monstrous abode cast
    evil incarnate, beast that set men's souls aghast!

    All is there within Medusa's abhorrent gaze
    hiding in black-realms wherein monsters daily graze
    beyond that abyss, the roaring of aching screams
    from there impossible to see sun's golden beams
    pathways, hideous corridors painted with blood
    where dead love and dying dreams may forever flood!

    Robert J. Lindley, Sept 9th , 2004
    presented date- 5-08-2020
    Rhyme, ( Part One Of )
    (Medusa, monster hideous beyond comprehension)
    Topic Greek Mythology and Its Magnificent Heroes.


    Note:

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Medusa

    Medusa
    From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
    Jump to navigationJump to search
    For other uses, see Medusa (disambiguation).
    Medusa
    Gorgona pushkin.jpg
    Classical Greek depiction of Medusa from the fourth century BC
    Personal information
    Parents Phorcys and Ceto
    Siblings The Hesperides, Stheno, Euryale, The Graea, Thoosa, Scylla, and Ladon
    Children Pegasus and Chrysaor
    Greek mythology
    Euboean amphora, c. 550 BCE, depicting the fight between Cadmus and a dragon
    Deities
    PrimordialTitansOlympiansNymphsSea-deitiesEarth-deities
    Heroes and heroism
    Heracles / Hercules LaborsAchillesHector Trojan WarOdysseus OdysseyJasonArgonauts Golden FleecePerseus MedusaGorgonOedipus SphinxOrpheus OrphismTheseus MinotaurBellerophon PegasusChimeraDaedalus LabyrinthAtalantaHippomenes Golden appleCadmus ThebesAeneas AeneidTriptolemus Eleusinian MysteriesPelops Ancient Olympic GamesPirithous CentauromachyAmphitryon Teumessian foxNarcissus NarcissismMeleager Calydonian BoarOtrera Amazons
    Related
    SatyrsCentaursDragonsDemogorgonReligion in Ancient GreeceMycenaean gods
    Parthenon from west.jpg Ancient Greece portal
    Draig.svg Myths portal
    vte
    In Greek mythology, Medusa (/m?'dju?z?, -s?/; Μ?δουσα "guardian, protectress")[1] also called Gorgo, was one of the three monstrous Gorgons, generally described as winged human females with living venomous snakes in place of hair. Those who gazed into her eyes would turn to stone. Most sources describe her as the daughter of Phorcys and Ceto,[2] although the author Hyginus makes her the daughter of Gorgon and Ceto.[3] According to Hesiod and Aeschylus, she lived and died on an island named Sarpedon, somewhere near Cisthene. The 2nd-century BCE novelist Dionysios Skytobrachion puts her somewhere in Libya, where Herodotus had said the Berbers originated her myth, as part of their religion.

    Medusa was beheaded by the hero Perseus, who thereafter used her head, which retained its ability to turn onlookers to stone, as a weapon[4] until he gave it to the goddess Athena to place on her shield. In classical antiquity the image of the head of Medusa appeared in the evil-averting device known as the Gorgoneion.


    The three Gorgon sisters—Medusa, Stheno, and Euryale—were all children of the ancient marine deities Phorcys (or "Phorkys") and his sister Ceto (or "Keto"), chthonic monsters from an archaic world. Their genealogy is shared with other sisters, the Graeae, as in Aeschylus's Prometheus Bound, which places both trinities of sisters far off "on Kisthene's dreadful plain":

    Near them their sisters three, the Gorgons, winged
    With snakes for hair— hatred of mortal man—

    While ancient Greek vase-painters and relief carvers imagined Medusa and her sisters as having monstrous form, sculptors and vase-painters of the fifth century began to envisage her as being beautiful as well as terrifying. In an ode written in 490 BC Pindar already speaks of "fair-cheeked Medusa".[5]

    In a late version of the Medusa myth, related by the Roman poet Ovid (Metamorphoses 4.770), Medusa was originally a ravishingly beautiful maiden, "the jealous aspiration of many suitors," but because Poseidon had raped her in Athena's temple, the enraged Athena transformed Medusa's beautiful hair to serpents and made her face so terrible to behold that the mere sight of it would turn onlookers to stone.[6] In Ovid's telling, Perseus describes Medusa's punishment by Minerva (Athena) as just and well earned.


    Coins of the reign of Seleucus I Nicator of Syria, (312–280 BC)
    In most versions of the story, she was beheaded by the hero Perseus, who was sent to fetch her head by King Polydectes of Seriphus because Polydectes wanted to marry Perseus's mother. The gods were well aware of this, and Perseus received help. He received a mirrored shield from Athena, gold, winged sandals from Hermes, a sword from Hephaestus and Hades's helm of invisibility. Since Medusa was the only one of the three Gorgons who was mortal, Perseus was able to slay her while looking at the reflection from the mirrored shield he received from Athena. During that time, Medusa was pregnant by Poseidon. When Perseus beheaded her, Pegasus, a winged horse, and Chrysaor, a giant wielding a golden sword, sprang from her body.[7]

    Jane Ellen Harrison argues that "her potency only begins when her head is severed, and that potency resides in the head; she is in a word a mask with a body later appended... the basis of the Gorgoneion is a cultus object, a ritual mask misunderstood."[8]

    In the Odyssey xi, Homer does not specifically mention the Gorgon Medusa:

    Lest for my daring Persephone the dread,
    From Hades should send up an awful monster's grisly head.


    The Medusa's head central to a mosaic floor in a tepidarium of the Roman era. Museum of Sousse, Tunisia
    Harrison's translation states "the Gorgon was made out of the terror, not the terror out of the Gorgon."[8]

    According to Ovid, in northwest Africa, Perseus flew past the Titan Atlas, who stood holding the sky aloft, and transformed him into stone when he tried to attack him.[9] In a similar manner, the corals of the Red Sea were said to have been formed of Medusa's blood spilled onto seaweed when Perseus laid down the petrifying head beside the shore during his short stay in Ethiopia where he saved and wed his future wife, the lovely princess Andromeda. Furthermore, the poisonous vipers of the Sahara, in the Argonautica 4.1515, Ovid's Metamorphoses 4.770 and Lucan's Pharsalia 9.820, were said to have grown from spilt drops of her blood. The blood of Medusa also spawned the Amphisbaena (a horned dragon-like creature with a snake-headed tail).

    Perseus then flew to Seriphos, where his mother was being forced into marriage with the king, Polydectes, who was turned into stone by the head. Then Perseus gave the Gorgon's head to Athena, who placed it on her shield, the Aegis.[10]

    Some classical references refer to three Gorgons; Harrison considered that the tripling of Medusa into a trio of sisters was a secondary feature in the myth:
    Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; 05-08-2020 at 07:20 PM.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

  14. #9
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    Blog: ( A Short Page From The Book Of Life, Love And Bitter Sorrows ) A Quartet Of Poems, composed in four days..
    Blog Posted:5/13/2020 9:23:00 AM
    Blog: ( A Short Page From The Book Of Life, Love And Bitter Sorrows )
    A Quartet Of Poems, composed in four days...

    (1.)

    There Is A Dangerous Sun Now A'Rising

    There is a dangerous sun now a'rising,
    this world's blindness is a'surprising
    far too many walk a dying road
    far too many believe great lies told,
    soon old truths they will be a'roasting
    and in darken fog proudly a'toasting.

    Danger and fear will come a'plenty
    death will dance well in year a'twenty
    far too many will life be a'wailing
    far too many their lies be a'spelling
    soon the shores will give away the sands
    and tears ill wet fresh washed hands.

    There is a dangerous tale in the telling
    poison forests burnt after their felling
    far too many moan out their lonely emotions
    far too many selling their snake oil potions
    soon freedoms once enjoyed will be overtaken
    and our land will be truly God forsaken.

    There is a dangerous sun now a'rising,
    this world's blindness is a'surprising
    far too many walk a dying road
    far too many believe great lies told,
    soon old truths they will be a'roasting
    and in darken fog so proudly a'toasting.

    Robert J. Lindley, posted 5-11-2020
    Rhyme, ( In The Green Valley When The Invisible Rain Fell )
    Written on the plague that has now so devastated the many..

    Note:
    I previously started this poem for The PoetrySoup Corona virus contest.
    Created the outline and stopped, finished that and came back for 5 edits later.
    After giving great thought I decided not to enter it. To hold it for later.
    Many reasons for that decision, but truth is I think it lacks due to
    its author's losing the needed inspiration- that which youth once did
    in the bucketfuls "centuries ago" showered. Now my friends, do as I may,
    due to that sad reality and its failing fruits I can no longer pretend.
    A poet can only measure by looking back. At what was once wasted and
    now those depths and beauty his pen and sword both too oft clearly lack.-RJL
    Starting this project with this piece, admitting my faults...

    (2.)

    Bites As Hungry Shark, Yet I Am Still Here Writing

    Words are coming, many are great, some are deep blue
    I sit here humming, Lord something is overdue
    Pen in hand, life, love, sorrows, tales to be told
    Once a lad, seeking joy before getting too old.

    This ole world deep dark, yet I am still here fighting.
    Bites as hungry shark, yet I am still here writing!

    Of mere mortal flesh, born to its ill fated doom
    Into sunlit shadows, dappled shades in each room
    Cannons of power, youth in most glorious haze
    Distant hill-black towers, all a shimmering craze.

    This ole world deep dark, yet I am still here fighting.
    Bites as hungry shark, yet I am still here writing!

    Amidst black canyons, clouds- separation and pain
    Race into fleeing horizon, so little gain
    Pen and paper moaning, lonesome that steals each breath
    Poet atoning, into long cold hands of death!

    This ole world deep dark, yet I am still here fighting.
    Bites as hungry shark, yet I am still here writing!

    Robert J. Lindley, 5-12-2020
    Rhyme, ( When The Die Is Cast, Earthen Time Has Flown Away )

    (3.)

    Once A Revolutionary Serpent Came To My Door

    Once a revolutionary serpent came to my door
    saying-" hey man I damn sure don't like you anymore."
    You have settled fast and hard, gotten too old,
    destroyed all those lies that I so boldly told
    Now your sad life you must accurately defend-
    because to my darkness, my ire you are no damn friend!

    I sat and into its evil granite gaze I then fell
    pawn cast into the blackest of its unholy hell
    holding tight to illusion and mirror image of me
    there voluntarily chained never again to be free
    waiting on chimes from a church-bell somewhere
    or bowl of milk set to make dead cats low purr.

    Centuries past and icy stabs into my soul beset
    I was dying in the desert from being too, too wet
    a repentant character from a tragic new play
    minstrel of words that Life had refused to pay
    crying in my sorrows and that unavoidable abyss
    in dire straits waiting for serpent's poison kiss.

    Once a revolutionary serpent came to my door
    saying-" hey man I damn sure don't like you anymore".
    You have settled fast and hard, gotten too old,
    destroyed all those lies that I so boldly told
    Now your sad life you must accurately defend-
    because to my darkness, my ire you are no damn friend!

    Robert J. Lindley, 5-13-2020
    Rhyme -Dark- ( Gospel Of Self Identification, From A Poet's Muse )

    (4.)

    When Yesterday's Ghost Rises From Its Grave

    When yesterday's ghost rises from its grave
    telling your dastardly sins to behave
    can that midnight hour your spirit then feel
    poison arrows in your Achilles heel
    slow melting marrows in your weeping bones
    transcendence in your heartbreaking tones?

    O'tell me that torture, how does it pain
    Will your rebellion ever let you be sane?

    In cold dark that your lost soul too oft plays
    sorrows born 'neath Heaven's pleading stairways
    can new Life and Love your agony heal
    or with devil's oath you dare make a deal,
    fast drying tears spat upon cracked sidewalks
    crimes with Mother Nature you dare not talk!

    O'tell me that torture, how does it pain
    Will your rebellion ever let you be sane?

    When yesterday's ghost rises from its grave
    telling your dastardly sins to behave
    can that midnight hour your spirit then feel
    poison arrows in your Achilles heel
    those melting marrows in your weeping bones
    transcendence in your heartbreaking tones?

    O'tell me that torture, how does it pain
    Will your rebellion ever let you be sane?

    Robert J. Lindley, 5-13-2020
    Rhyme, Stepping From That Mountain,
    Fleeing From That Cold, Dark Abyss.....

    Syllables Per Line:
    0 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 11 11
    0 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 11 11
    0 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 11 11
    Total # Syllables:246
    Total # Words:::::174
    Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; 05-13-2020 at 11:09 AM.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

  15. #10
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    Blog: ( A Short Page From The Book Of Life, Love And Bitter Sorrows ) A Quartet Of Poems, composed in four days..
    Blog Posted:5/13/2020 9:23:00 AM
    Blog: ( A Short Page From The Book Of Life, Love And Bitter Sorrows )
    A Quartet Of Poems, composed in four days...

    ******

    (Once A Revolutionary Serpent Came To My Door 3rd poem, From my blog, A Quartet Of Poems)


    Once A Revolutionary Serpent Came To My Door
    3rd poem, From my blog- " A Quartet Of Poems"


    Once a revolutionary serpent came to my door
    saying-" hey man I damn sure don't like you anymore."
    You have settled fast and hard, gotten too old,
    destroyed all those lies that I so boldly told
    Now your sad life you must accurately defend-
    because to my darkness, my ire you are no damn friend!

    I sat and into its evil granite gaze I then fell
    pawn cast into the blackest of its unholy hell
    holding tight to illusion and mirror image of me
    there voluntarily chained never again to be free
    waiting on chimes from a church-bell somewhere
    or bowl of milk set to make dead cats low purr.

    Centuries past and icy stabs into my soul beset
    I was dying in the desert from being too, too wet
    a repentant character from a tragic new play
    minstrel of words that Life had refused to pay
    crying in my sorrows and that unavoidable abyss
    in dire straits waiting for serpent's poison kiss.

    Once a revolutionary serpent came to my door
    saying-" hey man I damn sure don't like you anymore".
    You have settled fast and hard, gotten too old,
    destroyed all those lies that I so boldly told
    Now your sad life you must accurately defend-
    because to my darkness, my ire you are no damn friend!

    Robert J. Lindley, 5-13-2020
    Rhyme -Dark- ( Gospel Of Self Identification, From A Poet's Muse )


    Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2020
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

  16. #11
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    Nightmares, Ravages Of A Prometheus, Free And Unchained
    Blog Posted:5/17/2020 7:08:00 AM

    Prometheus
    From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
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    For other uses, see Prometheus (disambiguation).
    Prometheus
    1623 Dirck van Baburen, Prometheus Being Chained by Vulcan Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.jpg
    Personal information
    Parents Iapetus and Asia or Clymene
    Siblings Atlas, Epimetheus, Menoetius, Anchiale

    Prometheus depicted in a sculpture by Nicolas-Sébastien Adam, 1762 (Louvre)
    In Greek mythology, Prometheus (/pr?'mi?θi?s/; Ancient Greek: Προμηθε?ς, [prom??t?éu?s], possibly meaning "forethought")[1] is a Titan, culture hero, and trickster figure who is credited with the creation of humanity from clay, and who defies the gods by stealing fire and giving it to humanity as civilization. Prometheus is known for his intelligence and as a champion of mankind[2] and also seen as the author of the human arts and sciences generally. He is sometimes presented as the father of Deucalion, the hero of the flood story.

    The punishment of Prometheus as a consequence of the theft is a major theme of his, and is a popular subject of both ancient and modern culture. Zeus, king of the Olympian gods, sentenced the Titan to eternal torment for his transgression. The immortal was bound to a rock, where each day an eagle, the emblem of Zeus, was sent to eat Prometheus' liver, which would then grow back overnight to be eaten again the next day (in ancient Greece, the liver was often thought to be the seat of human emotions).[3] Prometheus was eventually freed by the hero Heracles.

    In another myth, Prometheus establishes the form of animal sacrifice practiced in ancient Greek religion.

    Evidence of a cult to Prometheus himself is not widespread. He was a focus of religious activity mainly at Athens, where he was linked to Athena and Hephaestus, other Greek deities of creative skills and technology.[4]

    In the Western classical tradition, Prometheus became a figure who represented human striving, particularly the quest for scientific knowledge, and the risk of overreaching or unintended consequences. In particular, he was regarded in the Romantic era as embodying the lone genius whose efforts to improve human existence could also result in tragedy: Mary Shelley, for instance, gave The Modern Prometheus as the subtitle to her novel Frankenstein (1818).


    Contents
    1 Etymology
    2 Myths and legends
    2.1 Possible Sources
    2.2 Oldest legends
    2.3 Athenian tradition
    2.4 Other authors
    3 Late Roman antiquity
    4 Middle Ages
    5 Renaissance
    6 Post-Renaissance
    6.1 Post-Renaissance literary arts
    6.2 Post-Renaissance aesthetic tradition
    7 See also
    8 Notes
    9 References
    Etymology
    The etymology of the theonym prometheus is debated. The classical view is that it signifies "forethought," as that of his brother Epimetheus denotes "afterthought".[5] Hesychius of Alexandria gives Prometheus the variant name of Ithas, and adds "whom others call Ithax", and describes him as the Herald of the Titans.[6] Kerényi remarks that these names are "not transparent", and may be different readings of the same name, while the name "Prometheus" is descriptive.[7]

    It has also been theorised that it derives from the Proto-Indo-European root that also produces the Vedic pra math, "to steal", hence pramathyu-s, "thief", cognate with "Prometheus", the thief of fire. The Vedic myth of fire's theft by Matarisvan is an analogue to the Greek account.[8] Pramantha was the fire-drill, the tool used to create fire.[9] The suggestion that Prometheus was in origin the human "inventor of the fire-sticks, from which fire is kindled" goes back to Diodorus Siculus in the first century BC. The reference is again to the "fire-drill", a worldwide primitive method of fire making using a vertical and a horizontal piece of wood to produce fire by friction.[10]

    Myths and legends
    Possible Sources

    The Torture of Prometheus, painting by Salvator Rosa (1646-1648).
    The oldest record of Prometheus is in Hesiod, but stories of theft of fire by a trickster figure are widespread around the world. Some other aspects of the story resemble the Sumerian myth of Enki (or Ea in later Babylonian mythology), who was also a bringer of civilisation who protected humanity against the other gods.[11] That Prometheus descends from the Vedic fire bringer Matarisvan was suggested in the 19th century, lost favour in the 20th century, but is still supported by some.[12][failed verification]

    Oldest legends
    Hesiod's Theogony and Works of the Days
    Theogony
    The first recorded account of the Prometheus myth appeared in the late 8th-century BC Greek epic poet Hesiod's Theogony (507–616). He was a son of the Titan Iapetus by Clymene, one of the Oceanids. He was brother to Menoetius, Atlas, and Epimetheus. Hesiod, in Theogony, introduces Prometheus as a lowly challenger to Zeus's omniscience and omnipotence.

    In the trick at Mecone (535–544), a sacrificial meal marking the "settling of accounts" between mortals and immortals, Prometheus played a trick against Zeus. He placed two sacrificial offerings before the Olympian: a selection of beef hidden inside an ox's stomach (nourishment hidden inside a displeasing exterior), and the bull's bones wrapped completely in "glistening fat" (something inedible hidden inside a pleasing exterior). Zeus chose the latter, setting a precedent for future sacrifices (556–557). Henceforth, humans would keep that meat for themselves and burn the bones wrapped in fat as an offering to the gods. This angered Zeus, who hid fire from humans in retribution. In this version of the myth, the use of fire was already known to humans, but withdrawn by Zeus.[13]

    Prometheus stole fire back from Zeus in a giant fennel-stalk and restored it to humanity (565–566). This further enraged Zeus, who sent the first woman to live with humanity (Pandora, not explicitly mentioned). The woman, a "shy maiden", was fashioned by Hephaestus out of clay and Athena helped to adorn her properly (571–574). Hesiod writes, "From her is the race of women and female kind: of her is the deadly race and tribe of women who live amongst mortal men to their great trouble, no helpmeets in hateful poverty, but only in wealth" (590–594). For his crimes, Prometheus is punished by Zeus who bound him with chains, and sent an eagle to eat Prometheus' immortal liver every day, which then grew back every night. Years later, the Greek hero Heracles, with Zeus' permission, killed the eagle and freed Prometheus from this torment (521–529).


    Prometheus Brings Fire by Heinrich Friedrich Füger. Prometheus brings fire to mankind as told by Hesiod, with its having been hidden as revenge for the trick at Mecone.
    Works and Days
    Hesiod revisits the story of Prometheus and the theft of fire in Works and Days (42–105). In it the poet expands upon Zeus's reaction to Prometheus' deception. Not only does Zeus withhold fire from humanity, but "the means of life" as well (42). Had Prometheus not provoked Zeus's wrath, "you would easily do work enough in a day to supply you for a full year even without working; soon would you put away your rudder over the smoke, and the fields worked by ox and sturdy mule would run to waste" (44–47).

    Hesiod also adds more information to Theogony's story of the first woman, a maiden crafted from earth and water by Hephaestus now explicitly called Pandora ("all gifts") (82). Zeus in this case gets the help of Athena, Aphrodite, Hermes, the Graces and the Hours (59–76). After Prometheus steals the fire, Zeus sends Pandora in retaliation. Despite Prometheus' warning, Epimetheus accepts this "gift" from the gods (89). Pandora carried a jar with her from which were released mischief and sorrow, plague and diseases (94–100). Pandora shuts the lid of the jar too late to contain all the evil plights that escaped, but Hope is left trapped in the jar because Zeus forces Pandora to seal it up before Hope can escape (96–99).

    Interpretation
    Angelo Casanova,[14] professor of Greek literature at the University of Florence, finds in Prometheus a reflection of an ancient, pre-Hesiodic trickster-figure, who served to account for the mixture of good and bad in human life, and whose fashioning of humanity from clay was an Eastern motif familiar in Enuma Elish. As an opponent of Zeus he was an analogue of the Titans and, like them, was punished. As an advocate for humanity he gains semi-divine status at Athens, where the episode in Theogony in which he is liberated[15] is interpreted by Casanova as a post-Hesiodic interpolation.[16]

    According to the German classicist Karl-Martin Dietz, in Hesiod's scriptures, Prometheus represents the "descent of mankind from the communion with the gods into the present troublesome life".[17]

    The Lost Titanomachy
    The Titanomachy is a lost epic of the cosmological struggle between the Greek gods and their parents, the Titans, and is a probable source of the Prometheus myth.[18] along with the works of Hesiod. Its reputed author was anciently supposed to have lived in the 8th century BC, but M. L. West has argued that it can't be earlier than the late 7th century BC.[19] Presumably included in the Titanomachy is the story of Prometheus, himself a Titan, who managed to avoid being in the direct confrontational cosmic battle between Zeus and the other Olympians against Cronus and the other Titans[20] (although there is no direct evidence of Prometheus' inclusion in the epic).[21] M. L. West notes that surviving references suggest that there may have been significant differences between the Titanomachy epic and the account of events in Hesiod; and that the Titanomachy may be the source of later variants of the Prometheus myth not found in Hesiod, notably the non-Hesiodic material found in the Prometheus Bound of Aeschylus.[22]

    Athenian tradition
    The two major authors to have an influence on the development of the myths and legends surrounding the Titan Prometheus during the Socratic era of greater Athens were Aeschylus and Plato. The two men wrote in highly distinctive forms of expression which for Aeschylus centered on his mastery of the literary form of Greek tragedy, while for Plato this centered on the philosophical expression of his thought in the form of the various dialogues he wrote or recorded during his lifetime.

    Aeschylus and the ancient literary tradition
    Prometheus Bound, perhaps the most famous treatment of the myth to be found among the Greek tragedies, is traditionally attributed to the 5th-century BC Greek tragedian Aeschylus.[23] At the centre of the drama are the results of Prometheus' theft of fire and his current punishment by Zeus. The playwright's dependence on the Hesiodic source material is clear, though Prometheus Bound also includes a number of changes to the received tradition.[24] It has been suggested by M.L. West that these changes may derive from the now lost epic Titanomachy[25]

    Before his theft of fire, Prometheus played a decisive role in the Titanomachy, securing victory for Zeus and the other Olympians. Zeus' torture of Prometheus thus becomes a particularly harsh betrayal. The scope and character of Prometheus' transgressions against Zeus are also widened. In addition to giving humanity fire, Prometheus claims to have taught them the arts of civilisation, such as writing, mathematics, agriculture, medicine, and science. The Titan's greatest benefaction for humanity seems to have been saving them from complete destruction. In an apparent twist on the myth of the so-called Five Ages of Man found in Hesiod's Works and Days (wherein Cronus and, later, Zeus created and destroyed five successive races of humanity), Prometheus asserts that Zeus had wanted to obliterate the human race, but that he somehow stopped him.[citation needed]


    Heracles freeing Prometheus from his torment by the eagle (Attic black-figure cup, c. 500 BC)
    Moreover, Aeschylus anachronistically and artificially injects Io, another victim of Zeus's violence and ancestor of Heracles, into Prometheus' story. Finally, just as Aeschylus gave Prometheus a key role in bringing Zeus to power, he also attributed to him secret knowledge that could lead to Zeus's downfall: Prometheus had been told by his mother Themis, who in the play is identified with Gaia (Earth), of a potential marriage that would produce a son who would overthrow Zeus. Fragmentary evidence indicates that Heracles, as in Hesiod, frees the Titan in the trilogy's second play, Prometheus Unbound. It is apparently not until Prometheus reveals this secret of Zeus's potential downfall that the two reconcile in the final play, Prometheus the Fire-Bringer or Prometheus Pyrphoros, a lost tragedy by Aeschylus.

    Prometheus Bound also includes two mythic innovations of omission. The first is the absence of Pandora's story in connection with Prometheus' own. Instead, Aeschylus includes this one oblique allusion to Pandora and her jar that contained Hope (252): "[Prometheus] caused blind hopes to live in the hearts of men." Second, Aeschylus makes no mention of the sacrifice-trick played against Zeus in the Theogony.[23] The four tragedies of Prometheus attributed to Aeschylus, most of which are lost to the passages of time into antiquity, are Prometheus Bound (Prometheus Desmotes), Prometheus Unbound (Lyomenos), Prometheus the Fire Bringer (Pyrphoros), and Prometheus the Fire Kindler (Pyrkaeus).

    The larger scope of Aeschylus as a dramatist revisiting the myth of Prometheus in the age of Athenian prominence has been discussed by William Lynch.[26] Lynch's general thesis concerns the rise of humanist and secular tendencies in Athenian culture and society which required the growth and expansion of the mythological and religious tradition as acquired from the most ancient sources of the myth stemming from Hesiod. For Lynch, modern scholarship is hampered by not having the full trilogy of Prometheus by Aeschylus, the last two parts of which have been lost to antiquity. Significantly, Lynch further comments that although the Prometheus trilogy is not available, that the Orestia trilogy by Aeschylus remains available and may be assumed to provide significant insight into the overall structural intentions which may be ascribed to the Prometheus trilogy by Aeschylus as an author of significant consistency and exemplary dramatic erudition.[27]

    Harold Bloom, in his research guide for Aeschylus, has summarised some of the critical attention that has been applied to Aeschylus concerning his general philosophical import in Athens.[28] As Bloom states, "Much critical attention has been paid to the question of theodicy in Aeschylus. For generations, scholars warred incessantly over 'the justice of Zeus,' unintentionally blurring it with a monotheism imported from Judeo-Christian thought. The playwright undoubtedly had religious concerns; for instance, Jacqueline de Romilly[29] suggests that his treatment of time flows directly out of his belief in divine justice. But it would be an error to think of Aeschylus as sermonising. His Zeus does not arrive at decisions which he then enacts in the mortal world; rather, human events are themselves an enactment of divine will."[30]

    According to Thomas Rosenmeyer, regarding the religious import of Aeschylus, "In Aeschylus, as in Homer, the two levels of causation, the supernatural and the human, are co-existent and simultaneous, two ways of describing the same event." Rosenmeyer insists that ascribing portrayed characters in Aeschylus should not conclude them to be either victims or agents of theological or religious activity too quickly. As Rosenmeyer states: "[T]he text defines their being. For a critic to construct an Aeschylean theology would be as quixotic as designing a typology of Aeschylean man. The needs of the drama prevail."[31]

    In a rare comparison of Prometheus in Aeschylus with Oedipus in Sophocles, Harold Bloom states that "Freud called Oedipus an 'immoral play,' since the gods ordained incest and parricide. Oedipus therefore participates in our universal unconscious sense of guilt, but on this reading so do the gods" [...] "I sometimes wish that Freud had turned to Aeschylus instead, and given us the Prometheus complex rather than the Oedipus complex."[32]

    Karl-Martin Dietz states that in contrast to Hesiod's, in Aeschylus' oeuvre, Prometheus stands for the "Ascent of humanity from primitive beginnings to the present level of civilisation."[17]

    Plato and philosophy
    Olga Raggio, in her study "The Myth of Prometheus", attributes Plato in the Protagoras as an important contributor to the early development of the Prometheus myth.[33] Raggio indicates that many of the more challenging and dramatic assertions which Aeschylean tragedy explores are absent from Plato's writings about Prometheus.[34]

    As summarised by Raggio,
    After the gods have moulded men and other living creatures with a mixture of clay and fire, the two brothers Epimetheus and Prometheus are called to complete the task and distribute among the newly born creatures all sorts of natural qualities. Epimetheus sets to work but, being unwise, distributes all the gifts of nature among the animals, leaving men naked and unprotected, unable to defend themselves and to survive in a hostile world. Prometheus then steals the fire of creative power from the workshop of Athena and Hephaistos and gives it to mankind.

    Raggio then goes on to point out Plato's distinction of creative power (techne), which is presented as superior to merely natural instincts (physis).

    For Plato, only the virtues of "reverence and justice can provide for the maintenance of a civilised society – and these virtues are the highest gift finally bestowed on men in equal measure."[35] The ancients by way of Plato believed that the name Prometheus derived from the Greek prefix pro- (before) + manthano (intelligence) and the agent suffix -eus, thus meaning "Forethinker".

    In his dialogue titled Protagoras, Plato contrasts Prometheus with his dull-witted brother Epimetheus, "Afterthinker".[36][37] In Plato's dialogue Protagoras, Protagoras asserts that the gods created humans and all the other animals, but it was left to Prometheus and his brother Epimetheus to give defining attributes to each. As no physical traits were left when the pair came to humans, Prometheus decided to give them fire and other civilising arts.[38]

    Athenian religious dedication and observance
    It is understandable that since Prometheus was considered a Titan and not one of the Olympian gods that there would be an absence of evidence, with the exception of Athens, for the direct religious devotion to his worship. Despite his importance to the myths and imaginative literature of ancient Greece, the religious cult of Prometheus during the Archaic and Classical periods seems to have been limited.[39] Writing in the 2nd century AD, the satirist Lucian points out that while temples to the major Olympians were everywhere, none to Prometheus is to be seen.[40]


    Heracles freeing Prometheus, relief from the Temple of Aphrodite at Aphrodisias
    Athens was the exception, here Prometheus was worshipped alongside Athene and Hephaistos.[41] The altar of Prometheus in the grove of the Academy was the point of origin for several significant processions and other events regularly observed on the Athenian calendar. For the Panathenaic festival, arguably the most important civic festival at Athens, a torch race began at the altar, which was located outside the sacred boundary of the city, and passed through the Kerameikos, the district inhabited by potters and other artisans who regarded Prometheus and Hephaestus as patrons.[42] The race then travelled to the heart of the city, where it kindled the sacrificial fire on the altar of Athena on the Acropolis to conclude the festival.[43] These footraces took the form of relays in which teams of runners passed off a flaming torch. According to Pausanias (2nd century AD), the torch relay, called lampadedromia or lampadephoria, was first instituted at Athens in honour of Prometheus.[44]

    By the Classical period, the races were run by ephebes also in honour of Hephaestus and Athena.[45] Prometheus' association with fire is the key to his religious significance[39] and to the alignment with Athena and Hephaestus that was specific to Athens and its "unique degree of cultic emphasis" on honouring technology.[46] The festival of Prometheus was the Prometheia. The wreaths worn symbolised the chains of Prometheus.[47] There is a pattern of resemblances between Hephaistos and Prometheus. Although the classical tradition is that Hephaistos split Zeus's head to allow Athene's birth, that story has also been told of Prometheus. A variant tradition makes Prometheus the son of Hera like Hephaistos.[48] Ancient artists depict Prometheus wearing the pointed cap of an artist or artisan, like Hephaistos, and also the crafty hero Odysseus. The artisan's cap was also depicted as worn by the Cabeiri,[49] supernatural craftsmen associated with a mystery cult known in Athens in classical times, and who were associated with both Hephaistos and Prometheus. Kerényi suggests that Hephaistos may in fact be the "successor" of Prometheus, despite Hephaistos being himself of archaic origin.[50]

    Pausanias recorded a few other religious sites in Greece devoted to Prometheus. Both Argos and Opous claimed to be Prometheus' final resting place, each erecting a tomb in his honour. The Greek city of Panopeus had a cult statue that was supposed to honour Prometheus for having created the human race there.[38]

    Aesthetic tradition in Athenian art
    Prometheus' torment by the eagle and his rescue by Heracles were popular subjects in vase paintings of the 6th to 4th centuries BC. He also sometimes appears in depictions of Athena's birth from Zeus' forehead. There was a relief sculpture of Prometheus with Pandora on the base of Athena's cult statue in the Athenian Parthenon of the 5th century BC. A similar rendering is also found at the great altar of Zeus at Pergamon from the second century BC.

    The event of the release of Prometheus from captivity was frequently revisited on Attic and Etruscan vases between the sixth and fifth centuries BC. In the depiction on display at the Museum of Karlsruhe and in Berlin, the depiction is that of Prometheus confronted by a menacing large bird (assumed to be the eagle) with Hercules approaching from behind shooting his arrows at it.[51] In the fourth century this imagery was modified to depicting Prometheus bound in a cruciform manner, possibly reflecting an Aeschylus-inspired manner of influence, again with an eagle and with Hercules approaching from the side.[52]

    Other authors

    Creation of humanity by Prometheus as Athena looks on (Roman-era relief, 3rd century AD)

    Prometheus watches Athena endow his creation with reason (painting by Christian Griepenkerl, 1877)
    Some two dozen other Greek and Roman authors retold and further embellished the Prometheus myth from as early as the 5th century BC (Diodorus, Herodorus) into the 4th century AD. The most significant detail added to the myth found in, e.g., Sappho, Aesop and Ovid[53] was the central role of Prometheus in the creation of the human race. According to these sources, Prometheus fashioned humans out of clay.

    Although perhaps made explicit in the Prometheia, later authors such as Hyginus, the Bibliotheca, and Quintus of Smyrna would confirm that Prometheus warned Zeus not to marry the sea nymph Thetis. She is consequently married off to the mortal Peleus, and bears him a son greater than the father – Achilles, Greek hero of the Trojan War. Pseudo-Apollodorus moreover clarifies a cryptic statement (1026–29) made by Hermes in Prometheus Bound, identifying the centaur Chiron as the one who would take on Prometheus' suffering and die in his place.[38] Reflecting a myth attested in Greek vase paintings from the Classical period, Pseudo-Apollodorus places the Titan (armed with an axe) at the birth of Athena, thus explaining how the goddess sprang forth from the forehead of Zeus.[38]

    Other minor details attached to the myth include: the duration of Prometheus' torment;[54][55] the origin of the eagle that ate the Titan's liver (found in Pseudo-Apollodorus and Hyginus); Pandora's marriage to Epimetheus (found in Pseudo-Apollodorus); myths surrounding the life of Prometheus' son, Deucalion (found in Ovid and Apollonius of Rhodes); and Prometheus' marginal role in the myth of Jason and the Argonauts (found in Apollonius of Rhodes and Valerius Flaccus).[38]

    "Variants of legends containing the Prometheus motif are widespread in the Caucasus" region, reports Hunt,[56] who gave ten stories related to Prometheus from ethno-linguistic groups in the region.

    Zahhak, an evil figure in Iranian mythology, also ends up eternally chained on a mountainside – though the rest of his career is dissimilar to that of Prometheus.

    Late Roman antiquity
    The three most prominent aspects of the Prometheus myth have parallels within the beliefs of many cultures throughout the world (see creation of man from clay, theft of fire, and references for eternal punishment). It is the first of these three which has drawn attention to parallels with the biblical creation account related in the religious symbolism expressed in the book of Genesis.

    As stated by Olga Raggio,[57] "The Prometheus myth of creation as a visual symbol of the Neoplatonic concept of human nature, illustrated in (many) sarcophagi, was evidently a contradiction of the Christian teaching of the unique and simultaneous act of creation by the Trinity." This Neoplatonism of late Roman antiquity was especially stressed by Tertullian[58] who recognised both difference and similarity of the biblical deity with the mythological figure of Prometheus.

    The imagery of Prometheus and the creation of man used for the purposes of the representation of the creation of Adam in biblical symbolism is also a recurrent theme in the artistic expression of late Roman antiquity. Of the relatively rare expressions found of the creation of Adam in those centuries of late Roman antiquity, one can single out the so-called "Dogma sarcophagus" of the Lateran Museum where three figures are seen (in representation of the theological trinity) in making a benediction to the new man. Another example is found where the prototype of Prometheus is also recognisable in the early Christian era of late Roman antiquity. This can be found upon a sarcophagus of the Church at Mas d'Aire[59] as well, and in an even more direct comparison to what Raggio refers to as "a coursely carved relief from Campli (Teramo)[60] (where) the Lord sits on a throne and models the body of Adam, exactly like Prometheus." Still another such similarity is found in the example found on a Hellenistic relief presently in the Louvre in which the Lord gives life to Eve through the imposition of his two fingers on her eyes recalling the same gesture found in earlier representations of Prometheus.[57] .......
    ************************************************** **********
    Nightmares, Ravages Of A Prometheus, Free And Unchained

    (I.)

    What of life, mortality and blessings of virgin ground
    Philosophy, religion and *Prometheus unbound
    Of Mother Nature, illuminations and transcendence
    Science, and vanity of weakened mortal dependence
    Light keeping darkness, destruction, life has now earth so stained
    From horrors of gifting new god, Prometheus unchained?

    (II.)

    Should we, of flesh and bones, such magnificent heights aspire
    As did Prometheus, myth tells stole Olympus's fires
    Titan of old, that sought to make mortals into dark Gods
    Giving humans that which evil gifts with sly winks and nods
    Temptation, powers and greed sent to we of mortal flesh
    To further ensnare and our weaken souls deeply enmesh!

    (III.)

    What of Light, warmth and beauty of a glowing sunny day
    That heart endearing enchantment of morn's first call to pray
    Was there not enough to satisfy man's lustful desires
    Without need for that of creation gifted by fires
    Or dark truth, perhaps Prometheus did correctly see
    Search to expand into evil, mortals lusts to be free!

    (IV.)

    Are we so weak that evil, its darkness always remains
    Unbreakable bindings, of ours and Prometheus's chains
    Or can we ever through enlightenment, seeking hearts find
    That merciful key, that both hope and divine light reminds
    Will award salvation and blessings that every soul needs
    Vanquishing inherent savagery from our altered seeds?

    (V.)

    What of arrogance that humanity has now embraced
    That audacity of our thought, science has God replaced
    Or Prometheus was hero- savior of all mankind
    When instead flame given us was to our mortal souls bind
    Into abyss of growing pride and shallow vanity
    A curse upon earth and in turn, all of humanity!

    (VI.)

    Was Prometheus's gift a curse, poisonous Trojan horse
    A black scourge, that sets man on a most calamitous course
    Into gaping jaws of turmoil, blight of horrendous might
    Race into dark and darker, black echoes of a lost night
    Or shall we wake to this truth of truths to joyously find
    Only divine light, God's love and light will heal eyes so blind!

    Robert J. Lindley, from fragment- Oct12th, 1978
    renewed,edited,expanded and finished, May17th,2020


    Syllables Per Line:
    14 14 14 14 14 14 0 14 14 14 14 14 14 0 14 14 14 14 14 14
    14 14 14 14 14 14 0 14 14 14 14 14 14 0 14 14 14 14 14 14
    Total # Syllables:504
    Total # Words::::330
    Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; 05-17-2020 at 08:39 AM.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    Blog, Part Two - From, The Heroes And Monsters Of Greek Mythology Series
    Blog Posted:5/29/2020 1:05:00 PM
    Blog, Part Two - From, The Heroes And Monsters Of Greek Mythology Series


    Between Scylla and Charybdis
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    "Scylla and Charybdis" redirects here. For other uses, see Scylla and Charybdis (disambiguation).

    Henry Fuseli's painting of Odysseus facing the choice between Scylla and Charybdis, 1794/6
    Being between Scylla and Charybdis is an idiom deriving from Greek mythology, which has been associated with the proverbial advice "to choose the lesser of two evils".[1] Several other idioms, such as "on the horns of a dilemma", "between the devil and the deep blue sea", and "between a rock and a hard place" express similar meanings.[2] The mythical situation also developed a proverbial use in which seeking to choose between equally dangerous extremes is seen as leading inevitably to disaster.


    Contents
    1 The myth and its proverbial use
    2 Cultural references
    3 See also
    4 References
    5 External links
    The myth and its proverbial use

    Top, each of Scylla's heads plucks a mariner from the deck; bottom right, Charybdis tries to swallow the whole vessel
    Scylla and Charybdis were mythical sea monsters noted by Homer; Greek mythology sited them on opposite sides of the Strait of Messina between Sicily and Calabria, on the Italian mainland. Scylla was rationalized as a rock shoal (described as a six-headed sea monster) on the Calabrian side of the strait and Charybdis was a whirlpool off the coast of Sicily. They were regarded as maritime hazards located close enough to each other that they posed an inescapable threat to passing sailors; avoiding Charybdis meant passing too close to Scylla and vice versa. According to Homer's account, Odysseus was advised to pass by Scylla and lose only a few sailors, rather than risk the loss of his entire ship in the whirlpool.[3]

    Because of such stories, the bad result of having to navigate between the two hazards eventually entered proverbial use. Erasmus recorded it in his Adagia (1515) under the Latin form of evitata Charybdi in Scyllam incidi (having escaped Charybdis I fell into Scylla) and also provided a Greek equivalent. After relating the Homeric account and reviewing other connected uses, he went on to explain that the proverb could be applied in three different ways. In circumstances where there is no escape without some cost, the correct course is to "choose the lesser of two evils". Alternatively it may signify that the risks are equally great, whatever one does. A third use is in circumstances where a person has gone too far in avoiding one extreme and has tumbled into its opposite. In this context Erasmus quoted another line that had become proverbial, incidit in Scyllam cupiens vitare Charybdem (into Scylla he fell, wishing to avoid Charybdis).[4] This final example was a line from the Alexandreis, a 12th-century Latin epic poem by Walter of Châtillon.[5]

    The myth was later given an allegorical interpretation by the French poet Barthélemy Aneau in his emblem book Picta Poesis (1552). There one is advised, much in the spirit of the commentary of Erasmus, that the risk of being envied for wealth or reputation is preferable to being swallowed by the Charybdis of poverty: "Choose the lesser of these evils. A wise man would rather be envied than miserable." [6] Erasmus too had associated the proverb about choosing the lesser of two evils, as well as Walter of Châtillon’s line, with the Classical adage. A later English translation glossed the adage's meaning with a third proverb, that of "falling, as we say, out of the frying pan into the fire, in which form the proverb has been adopted by the French, the Italians and the Spanish."[7] Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable also treated the English proverb as an established equivalent of the allusion to falling from Scylla into Charybdis.[8]

    Cultural references

    James Gillray, Britannia between Scylla and Charybdis (1793)
    The story was often applied to political situations at a later date. In James Gillray's cartoon, Britannia between Scylla and Charybdis (3 June 1793),[9] 'William Pitt helms the ship Constitution, containing an alarmed Britannia, between the rock of democracy (with the liberty cap on its summit) and the whirlpool of arbitrary power (in the shape of an inverted crown), to the distant haven of liberty'.[10] This was in the context of the effect of the French Revolution on politics in Britain. That the dilemma had still to be resolved in the aftermath of the revolution is suggested by Percy Bysshe Shelley's returning to the idiom in his 1820 essay A Defence of Poetry: "The rich have become richer, and the poor have become poorer; and the vessel of the state is driven between the Scylla and Charybdis of anarchy and despotism."[11]

    A later Punch caricature by John Tenniel, dated 10 October 1863, pictures the Prime Minister Lord Palmerston carefully steering the British ship of state between the perils of Scylla, a craggy rock in the form of a grim-visaged Abraham Lincoln, and Charybdis, a whirlpool which foams and froths into a likeness of Jefferson Davis. A shield emblazoned "Neutrality" hangs on the ship's thwarts, referring to how Palmerston tried to maintain a strict impartiality towards both combatants in the American Civil War.[12] American satirical magazine Puck also used the myth in a caricature by F. Graetz, dated November 26, 1884, in which the unmarried President-elect Grover Cleveland rows desperately between snarling monsters captioned "Mother-in-law" and "Office Seekers".[13]

    Victor Hugo uses the equivalent French idiom (tomber de Charybde en Scylla) in his novel Les Miserables (1862), again in a political context, as a metaphor for the staging of two rebel barricades during the climactic uprising in Paris, around which the final events of the book culminate. The first chapter of the final volume is entitled "The Charybdis of the Faubourg Saint Antoine and the Scylla of the Faubourg du Temple".

    By the time of Nicholas Monsarrat's 1951 war novel, The Cruel Sea, however, the upper-class junior officer, Morell, is teased by his middle-class peer, Lockhart, for using such a phrase.[14] Nevertheless, the idiom has since taken on new life in pop lyrics. In The Police's 1983 single "Wrapped Around Your Finger", the second line uses it as a metaphor for being in a dangerous relationship; this is reinforced by a later mention of the similar idiom of "the devil and the deep blue sea".[15][16] American heavy metal band Trivium also referenced the idiom in "Torn Between Scylla and Charybdis", a track from their 2008 album Shogun, in which the lyrics are about having to choose "between death and doom".[17]

    In 2014 Graham Waterhouse composed a piano quartet, Skylla and Charybdis, premiered at the Gasteig in Munich. According to his programme note, though its four movements "do not refer specifically to the protagonists or to events connected with the famous legend", their dynamic is linked subjectively to images connected with it "conjoured up in the composer's mind during the writing".[18]

    See also
    Catch-22 (logic)
    Dilemma
    Hobson's choice
    Morton's fork
    References
    Oxford Dictionary of Proverbs, OUP 2015, p.99
    "The American Heritage Dictionary of Idioms" by Christine Ammer. 2003, 1997. The Christine Ammer 1992 Trust, retrieved 26 Aug. 2019
    Odyssey Book 12, lines 108-11, Translated by Ian Johnston, Vancouver Island University, Revised Edition 2019
    The Adages of Erasmus (selected by William Barker), University of Toronto 2001, pp.83-6
    The Alexandreis: A Twelfth-Century Epic, a verse translation by David Townsend, Broadview Editions 2007, p.120, line 350. A footnote in this translation identifies the line as becoming proverbial in Europe.
    French Emblems at Glasgow
    Robert Bland, Proverbs, chiefly taken from the Adagia of Erasmus, with explanations, London 1814, pp.95-7
    **************

    Scylla and Charybdis were mythical sea monsters noted by Homer; Greek mythology sited them on opposite sides of the Strait of Messina between Sicily and Calabria, on the Italian mainland. Scylla was rationalized as a rock shoal (described as a six-headed sea monster) on the Calabrian side of the strait and Charybdis was a whirlpool off the coast of Sicily. They were regarded as maritime hazards located close enough to each other that they posed an inescapable threat to passing sailors; avoiding Charybdis meant passing too close to Scylla and vice versa. According to Homer's account, Odysseus was advised to pass by Scylla and lose only a few sailors, rather than risk the loss of his entire ship in the whirlpool.[3]

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~

    Of Fate And The Choosing Between Scylla and Charybdis
    (From Continued Greek Heroes And Mythology Series)
    referenced,
    *Scylla and Charybdis, *Homer, *Iliad and The Odyssey, *Hades, *Heaven

    Of Fate And The Choosing Between Scylla and Charybdis

    (I.)

    Evil forces choice, either flee or choose another path
    choosing between Scylla and Charybdis, that of twin wraths
    mankind feeble pawn, turbulent vessel of flesh and bones
    set between rock and a hard place, Hades black undertones
    or walk onward into blindness as a casualty
    chained and bound, victim of evil's great ingenuity.

    (II.)

    A quandary, such as Odysseus once had to face
    either battling six-headed beast or drowning in disgrace
    Time ever offers up this agonizing, sadden choice
    for fallen man, cursed to answer with ill fated voice
    deciding, life and death- battle bravely or try to flee
    from living nightmare between the devil and deep blue sea.

    (III.)

    Homer's Iliad And The Odyssey, tells such travails
    as a Greek hero battles Dark's many ravenous Hells
    with Hope and Love in his magnificent, courageous heart
    his salvation, only looking to Heaven can impart
    yet with wit and faith he later his destination made
    while never honor, love of family had he betrayed.

    (IV.)

    What of world and its cacophony of screaming bandits
    living without honor, with its insidious gambits
    too often begging Lady Luck make every gamble pay
    instead of placing faith in Truth and kneeling down to pray
    with Scylla and Charybdis, each echoing vicious threats
    only by divine light, one avoids such destructive nets.

    (V.)

    Such in malevolent world, often rears its ugly head
    we seek treasure, when one should embrace Love and Light instead
    and in our feastings, selfish desires, our new Fated road
    we must face accursed bounty of treasures we were sold
    slaves living blinded by ambitions, in world full of chains
    ships in distress, sinking from tons of our ill gotten gains.

    (VI.)

    Shall we choose wisely, seeking serenity in the Light
    reaping harvest that comforts even in darkest of nights
    sail upon bluer seas, watching gleaming heavens soft glow
    riding peaceful waves, praying our loving families grow
    knowing goodness and mercy will be our blessed rewards
    or else continue playing on with, world's stacked deck of cards?

    Robert J. Lindley, 5-29-2020
    Rhyme, ( In A Judgment On Mankind's Repetitive And Historic Blindness )

    Robert J. Lindley, from fragment- March 22nd, 1979
    renewed,edited,expanded and finished, May 26th thru 29th,2020
    companion piece to previously presented,

    (Nightmares, Ravages Of A Prometheus, Free And Unchained,
    from fragment- Oct12th, 1978
    renewed,edited,expanded and finished, May17th,2020)
    Both poems are completed versions of the Greek Mythology Series
    started many decades ago..


    Stats:
    2nd poem- May 26th thru 29th,2020
    (Of Fate And The Choosing Between Scylla and Charybdis)
    0 14 14 14 14 14 14 0 14 14 14 14 14 14 0 14 14 14 14 14 14
    0 14 14 14 14 14 14 0 14 14 14 14 14 14 0 14 14 14 14 14 14
    Total # Syllables:504
    Total # Words:::::330

    Stats:
    1st poem- previously posted, and finished, May17th,2020
    (Nightmares, Ravages Of A Prometheus, Free And Unchained)
    0 14 14 14 14 14 14 0 14 14 14 14 14 14 0 14 14 14 14 14 14
    0 14 14 14 14 14 14 0 14 14 14 14 14 14 0 14 14 14 14 14 14
    Total # Syllables:504
    Total # Words:::::330
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    Blog Part Three, On Greek Heroes And Monsters.. - Robert Lindley's Blog
    About Robert Lindley(Show Details...)(Show Details...)


    Blog Part Three, On Greek Heroes And Monsters..
    Blog Posted:6/4/2020 8:48:00 AM


    Classical Greek culture

    The Greeks made important contributions to philosophy, mathematics, astronomy, and medicine.
    Literature and theatre was an important aspect of Greek culture and influenced modern drama.
    The Greeks were known for their sophisticated sculpture and architecture.
    Greek culture influenced the Roman Empire and many other civilizations, and it continues to influence modern cultures today.
    Philosophy and science
    Building on the discoveries and knowledge of civilizations in Egypt and Mesopotamia, among others, the Ancient Greeks developed a sophisticated philosophical and scientific culture. One of the key points of Ancient Greek philosophy was the role of reason and inquiry. It emphasized logic and championed the idea of impartial, rational observation of the natural world.
    The Greeks made major contributions to math and science. We owe our basic ideas about geometry and the concept of mathematical proofs to ancient Greek mathematicians such as Pythagoras, Euclid, and Archimedes. Some of the first astronomical models were developed by Ancient Greeks trying to describe planetary movement, the Earth’s axis, and the heliocentric system—a model that places the Sun at the center of the solar system. Hippocrates, another ancient Greek, is the most famous physician in antiquity. He established a medical school, wrote many medical treatises, and is— because of his systematic and empirical investigation of diseases and remedies—credited with being the founder of modern medicine. The Hippocratic oath, a medical standard for doctors, is named after him.
    Greek philosophical culture is exemplified in the dialogues of Plato, who turned the questioning style of Socrates into written form. Aristotle, Plato's student, wrote about topics as varied as biology and drama.
    Why did Greek philosophers value logic so highly?

    Picture of the painting _School of Athens_ by Raphael.
    Picture of the painting School of Athens by Raphael.
    School of Athens by Raphael. Image credit: Wikimedia
    Art, literature, and theatre
    Literature and theatre, which were very intertwined, were important in ancient Greek society. Greek theatre began in the sixth century BCE in Athens with the performance of tragedy plays at religious festivals. These, in turn, inspired the genre of Greek comedy plays.
    These two types of Greek drama became hugely popular, and performances spread around the Mediterranean and influenced Hellenistic and Roman theatre. The works of playwrights like Sophocles and Aristophanes formed the foundation upon which all modern theatre is based. In fact, while it may seem like dialogue was always a part of literature, it was rare before a playwright named Aeschylus introduced the idea of characters interacting with dialogue. Other theatrical devices, like irony, were exemplified in works like Sophocles’ Oedipus the King.
    In addition to written forms of theater and literature, oral traditions were important, especially in early Greek history. It wasn’t until around 670 BCE that Homer’s epic poems, The Iliad and Odyssey, were compiled into text form.
    Greek art, particularly sculpture and architecture, was also incredibly influential on other societies. Greek sculpture from 800 to 300 BCE took inspiration from Egyptian and Near Eastern monumental art and, over centuries, evolved into a uniquely Greek vision of the art form.
    Greek artists reached a peak of excellence which captured the human form in a way never before seen and much copied. Greek sculptors were particularly concerned with proportion, poise, and the idealized perfection of the human body; their figures in stone and bronze have become some of the most recognizable pieces of art ever produced by any civilization.

    This statue of Eirene, peace, bearing Plutus, wealth is a Roman copy of a Greek votive statue by Kephisodotos which stood on the agora in Athens, Wealth ca. 370 BCE.
    This statue of Eirene, peace, bearing Plutus, wealth is a Roman copy of a Greek votive statue by Kephisodotos which stood on the agora in Athens, Wealth ca. 370 BCE.
    This statue of Eirene, peace, bearing Plutus, wealth is a Roman copy of a Greek votive statue by Kephisodotos which stood on the agora in Athens, Wealth ca. 370 BCE. Image credit: Wikimedia Commons
    Greek architects provided some of the finest and most distinctive buildings in the entire Ancient World and some of their structures— including temples, theatres, and stadia—would become staple features of towns and cities from antiquity onwards.
    In addition, the Greek concern with simplicity, proportion, perspective, and harmony in their buildings would go on to greatly influence architects in the Roman world and provide the foundation for the classical architectural orders which would dominate the western world from the Renaissance to the present day.
    The legacy of Greek culture
    The civilization of ancient Greece was immensely influential in many spheres: language, politics, educational systems, philosophy, science, and the arts. It had major effects on the Roman Empire which ultimately ruled it. As Horace put it, "Captive Greece took captive her fierce conqueror and instilled her arts in rustic Latium."
    Via the Roman Empire, Greek culture came to be foundational to Western culture in general. The Byzantine Empire inherited Classical Greek culture directly, without Latin intermediation, and the preservation of classical Greek learning in medieval Byzantine tradition exerted strong influence on the Slavs and later on the Islamic Golden Age and the Western European Renaissance. A modern revival of Classical Greek learning took place in the Neoclassicism movement in eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Europe and the Americas.
    Can you think of modern-day art, architecture, or theater that may have been influenced by Greek culture?
    [Notes and attributions]

    ************************************************** ************
    Blog- Part Three, Greek mythology series..
    The following two sonnets represent a past foray into The Heroes And Monsters Of Greek Mythology.
    As they both were inspired by the Thoreau poem cited below...

    The Summer Rain
    Poem by Henry David Thoreau


    My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read,
    'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large
    Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,
    And will not mind to hit their proper targe.

    Plutarch was good, and so was Homer too,
    Our Shakespeare's life were rich to live again,
    What Plutarch read, that was not good nor true,
    Nor Shakespeare's books, unless his books were men.

    Here while I lie beneath this walnut bough,
    What care I for the Greeks or for Troy town,
    If juster battles are enacted now
    Between the ants upon this hummock's crown?

    Bid Homer wait till I the issue learn,
    If red or black the gods will favor most,
    Or yonder Ajax will the phalanx turn,
    Struggling to heave some rock against the host.

    Tell Shakespeare to attend some leisure hour,
    For now I've business with this drop of dew,
    And see you not, the clouds prepare a shower--
    I'll meet him shortly when the sky is blue.

    This bed of herd's grass and wild oats was spread
    Last year with nicer skill than monarchs use.
    A clover tuft is pillow for my head,
    And violets quite overtop my shoes.

    And now the cordial clouds have shut all in,
    And gently swells the wind to say all's well;
    The scattered drops are falling fast and thin,
    Some in the pool, some in the flower-bell.

    I am well drenched upon my bed of oats;
    But see that globe come rolling down its stem,
    Now like a lonely planet there it floats,
    And now it sinks into my garment's hem.

    Drip drip the trees for all the country round,
    And richness rare distills from every bough;
    The wind alone it is makes every sound,
    Shaking down crystals on the leaves below.

    For shame the sun will never show himself,
    Who could not with his beams e'er melt me so;
    My dripping locks--they would become an elf,
    Who in a beaded coat does gaily go.
    BY-- Henry David Thoreau
    **************************************************
    My two offerings...

    Upon Battlefields Fallen True, Their Bloody Dead
    ( Part One )


    For Greek pride the courageous Greeks warriors bled
    Upon battlefields fallen true, their bloody dead
    Thus many, from Greek mothers loving hearts were torn
    Raised to be Greek heroes from day they were born.

    Those giants brave and true as Homer did so write
    Marching, fighting both by weary day and dark night
    Shields held firm, plunging deep-red sharp sword and long spears
    As fighting machines bereft of concerns and fears!

    Achilles and Ajax mighty killers born to be
    Destined as heroes, of valiant Greek tree
    Godlike power in limbs of Herculean might
    As was told by Homer's tale of Troy's last great fight!

    For Greek pride the courageous Greeks warriors bled
    Upon battlefields fallen true, their bloody dead!

    Robert J. Lindley, 6-26-2019
    Sonnet, ( What my muse just demanded of me )



    Upon Battlefields Fallen True, Their Bloody Dead
    ( Part Two )


    Fallen, courageous souls fleeing blood soaked soils
    Battles no longer fought, long dark veil coming down.
    Cessation of Life its pleasures, its daily toils
    Small tis the reward of fame and hero's renown.

    Yet such better than oblivion's return to dust
    As life's ending, oft the payment for warring deeds.
    Sacrifices for others power, greed and lusts
    War torn ground soaked from brave warriors that bleed.

    What of Greek pride or mighty heroic defense
    Were not some deeds worthy, justified?
    Are we more than just raging savages with no sense
    Was heroic sacrifice true of those that died?

    Were not some deeds worthy, justified
    Was heroic sacrifice true of those that died?

    Robert J. Lindley, 7-2-2019
    Sonnet, ( What my muse just demanded of me )
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    Blog, Tales From The Dark Book Of Poe, Oct 23rd,1977 as was written, after midnight clock struck its blackest hour.
    Blog Posted:6/11/2020 2:30:00 PM
    Blog, Tales From The Dark Book Of Poe, Oct 23rd,1977
    as was written, after midnight clock struck its blackest hour.



    Night Of Shadow, Poe, House Of Usher's Bloody Dust

    Midnight hour when an horrendous silence then struck
    magical its great power, in it I was stuck
    cast into a dream, one of whispering delays
    set aloft on a beam, passing clouds dark and gray
    into realm with a clear mission given to me
    find the one true answer and grab the golden key!

    Down a dark word path I so courageously trod
    started black as hell, along its trail I did plod
    into land of black, such great markers of the dead
    time I lost track, divergence in my aching head
    then came that recall, a faithful mission commanded
    to get it all, and dare not leave empty handed!

    From distant bell, came rhyming music to my ears
    I was not feeling well, as heart felt its deep fears
    next a shadow came, and begged to tag along
    inquiring my name and then sang a mourning song
    led me past stones, of those fallen in darkest sin
    snakes crawling on their bones, all had a wicked grin!

    Then I horror thus I knew, this a nightmare black
    within its course I must pursue, grab and get back
    you will find your treasure beyond those rusty gates
    bravery's measure, there the golden tomb awaits
    hold on there my good friend, shadow screamed with a shout
    near the end, duty bound, dare you not turn about!

    Tho' I may die, I entered ancient musty crypt
    aghast was I, as all its contents had been stripped
    yet dried blood on the gloomy red walls, showed a fight
    from outside I heard wailing calls, you die tonight
    seeking to flee, yet I knew grab something I must
    fear grabbing me, I left there only bloody dust!

    As I fled, screamed my fears, hearing those distant words
    faster I went switching gears, I flew like a bird
    far away on distant hill, I heard a new call
    its words sent a cold chill, it cried soon you will fall
    your are captive in a garden plot, and will stay
    Poe lives here, tho' House of Usher is in decay!

    Morning call rang out, rooster sounded its alarm
    I woke praise God with a shout, thanking God no harm
    Rising from bed, I saw a shadow fly away
    its eyes glowing red, wailing "soon, soon you will pay"
    I screamed with all my might, God's help is now a must
    more fright, for at bed's foot was, piles of bloody dust!

    R.J. Lindley, Oct23rd, 1977
    Dark Rhyme, ( When The Raven Sent A Vivid Dream And Chilling Message )


    Syllables Per Line:
    0 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 12 12
    0 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 12 12
    0 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 12 12
    0 12 12 12 12 12 12
    Total # Syllables:504
    Total # Words: 406

    ************************************************** **
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Fa...House_of_Usher

    The Fall of the House of Usher
    From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
    Jump to navigationJump to search
    For other uses, see The Fall of the House of Usher (disambiguation).
    "The Fall of the House of Usher"
    House-of-Usher-1839.jpg
    First appearance in Burton's Gentleman's Magazine (September 1839)
    Author Edgar Allan Poe
    Country United States
    Language English
    Genre(s) Horror, Gothic, Detective Fiction
    Published in Burton's Gentleman's Magazine
    Publication date September 1839
    "The Fall of the House of Usher" is a short story by American writer Edgar Allan Poe, first published in 1839 in Burton's Gentleman's Magazine, then included in the collection Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque in 1840. The short story, a work of Gothic fiction, includes themes of madness, family, isolation, and metaphysical identities.

    Contents
    1 Plot
    2 Character descriptions
    2.1 Narrator
    2.2 Roderick Usher
    2.3 Madeline Usher
    3 Publication history
    4 Sources of inspiration
    5 Analysis
    5.1 Allusions and references
    6 Literary significance and criticism
    7 In other media
    8 References
    9 Further reading
    10 External links
    Plot
    The story begins with the unnamed narrator arriving at the house of his friend, Roderick Usher, having received a letter from him in a distant part of the country complaining of an illness and asking for his help. As he arrives, the narrator notes a thin crack extending from the roof, down the front of the building and into the adjacent lake.

    It is revealed that Roderick's twin sister, Madeline, is also ill and falls into cataleptic, deathlike trances. Roderick and Madeline are the only remaining members of the Usher family.

    The narrator is impressed with Roderick's paintings and attempts to cheer him by reading with him and listening to his improvised musical compositions on the guitar. Roderick sings "The Haunted Palace", then tells the narrator that he believes the house he lives in to be alive, and that this sentience arises from the arrangement of the masonry and vegetation surrounding it. Further, Roderick believes that his fate is connected to the family mansion.

    Roderick later informs the narrator that his sister has died and insists that she be entombed for two weeks in the family tomb located in the house before being permanently buried. The narrator helps Roderick put the body in the tomb, and notes that Madeline has rosy cheeks, as some do after death. They inter her, but over the next week both Roderick and the narrator find themselves becoming increasingly agitated for no apparent reason. A storm begins. Roderick comes to the narrator's bedroom, which is situated directly above the vault, and throws open his window to the storm. He notices that the tarn surrounding the house seems to glow in the dark as it glowed in Roderick Usher's paintings, but there is no lightning.

    The narrator attempts to calm Roderick by reading aloud The Mad Trist, a novel involving a knight named Ethelred who breaks into a hermit's dwelling in an attempt to escape an approaching storm, only to find a palace of gold guarded by a dragon. He also finds, hanging on the wall, a shield of shining brass on which is written a legend:

    Who entereth herein, a conqueror hath bin;
    Who slayeth the dragon, the shield he shall win;[1]
    With a stroke of his mace, Ethelred kills the dragon, who dies with a piercing shriek, and proceeds to take the shield, which falls to the floor with an unnerving clatter.

    As the narrator reads of the knight's forcible entry into the dwelling, cracking and ripping sounds are heard somewhere in the house. When the dragon is described as shrieking as it dies, a shriek is heard, again within the house. As he relates the shield falling from off the wall, a reverberation, metallic and hollow, can be heard. Roderick becomes increasingly hysterical, and eventually exclaims that these sounds are being made by his sister, who was in fact alive when she was entombed.

    Additionally, Roderick somehow knew that she was alive. The bedroom door is then blown open to reveal Madeline standing there. She falls on her brother and both land on the floor as corpses. The narrator then flees the house, and, as he does so, notices a flash of moonlight behind him which causes him to turn back, in time to see the moon shining through the suddenly widened crack. As he watches, the House of Usher splits in two and the fragments sink into the tarn.

    Character descriptions

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    Narrator
    In "The Fall of the House of Usher", Poe's unnamed narrator is called to visit the House of Usher by Roderick Usher. As his "best and only friend",[2] Roderick tells of his illness and asks that he visit. He is persuaded by Roderick's desperation for companionship. Though sympathetic and helpful, the narrator continually is made to be an outsider. From his perspective, the cautionary tale unfolds. The narrator also exists as Roderick's audience as the men are not very well-acquainted, and Roderick is convinced of his impending demise. The narrator gradually is drawn into Roderick's belief after being brought forth to witness the horrors and hauntings of the House of Usher.[3]

    From his arrival, he notes the family's isolationist tendencies as well as the cryptic and special connection between Madeline and Roderick. Throughout the tale and her varying states of consciousness, Madeline ignores the Narrator's presence. After Roderick Usher claims that Madeline has died, he helps Usher place her in the underground vault despite noticing Madeline's flushed appearance.

    During one sleepless night, the Narrator reads aloud to Usher as sounds are heard throughout the mansion. He witnesses Madeline's reemergence and the subsequent death of the twins, Madeline and Roderick. The narrator is the only character to escape the House of Usher, which he views as it cracks and sinks into the tarn or mountain lake.

    Roderick Usher
    Roderick Usher is the twin of Madeline Usher and one of the last living Ushers. Usher writes to the narrator, his boyhood friend, about his illness.[2] When the narrator arrives, he is startled to see Roderick's appearance is eerie and off-putting. He is described by the narrator:

    gray-white skin; eyes large and full of light; lips not bright in color, but of a beautiful shape; a well-shaped nose; hair of great softness — a face that was not easy to forget. And now the increase in this strangeness of his face had caused so great a change that I almost did not know him. The horrible white of his skin, and the strange light in his eyes, surprised me and even made me afraid. His hair had been allowed to grow, and in its softness it did not fall around his face but seemed to lie upon the air. I could not, even with an effort, see in my friend the appearance of a simple human being.[4]

    Roderick Usher is a recluse.[2] He is unwell both physically and mentally. In addition to his constant fear and trepidation, Madeline's catalepsy is a cause of his decay. He is tormented by the sorrow of watching his sibling die. The narrator states: "He admitted [that] much of the peculiar gloom which thus affected him could be traced [to] the evidently approaching dissolution [of] his sole companion".[2] According to Terry W. Thompson, he meticulously plans for her burial to prevent "resurrection men" from stealing his beloved sister's corpse for experimentation as was common in the 18th and 19th centuries for medical schools and physicians in need of cadavers.[5]

    As his twin, the two share an incommunicable connection that critics conclude may be either incestuous or metaphysical,[6] as two individuals in an extra-sensory relationship embodying a single entity. To that end, Roderick's deteriorating condition speeds up his own torment and eventual death. Like his sister, Roderick Usher is connected to the mansion. He believes the mansion is sentient and responsible, in part, for his deteriorating mental health and melancholy. Despite this admission, Usher remains in the mansion and composes art containing the Usher mansion or similar haunted mansions. His mental health deteriorates faster as he begins to hear Madeline's attempts to escape the underground vault she was buried in, and he eventually meets his death out of fear in a manner similar to the House of Usher's cracking and sinking.

    Madeline Usher
    Madeline Usher is the twin sister and doppelgänger of Roderick Usher. She is deathly ill and cataleptic. She appears before the narrator, but never acknowledges his presence. She returns to her bedroom where Roderick claims she has died. She is entombed despite her flushed appearance. In the tale's conclusion, Madeline escapes her tomb and returns to Roderick, only to scare him to death.

    According to Poe's detective methodology in literature, Madeline Usher may be the physical embodiment of the supernatural and metaphysical worlds. Her limited presence is explained as a personification of Roderick's torment and fear. Madeline does not appear until she is summoned through her brother's fear, foreshadowed in the epigraph, with a quote from French poet Pierre-Jean de Béranger: "Son cœur est un luth suspendu; / Sitôt qu'on le touche il résonne", meaning "His heart is a tightened lute; as soon as one touches it, it echoes".[1]

    Publication history
    "The Fall of the House of Usher" was first published in September 1839 in Burton's Gentleman's Magazine. It was revised slightly in 1840 for the collection Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque. It contains Poe's poem "The Haunted Palace", which earlierwas published separately in the April 1839 issue of Baltimore Museum.

    In 1928, Éditions Narcisse, predecessor to the Black Sun Press, published a limited edition of 300 numbered copies with illustrations by Alastair.

    Sources of inspiration

    Home of Hezekiah Usher's son, Hezekiah
    Poe's inspiration for the story may be based upon events of the Hezekiah Usher House, which was located on the Usher estate that is now a three-block area in modern Boston, Massachusetts adjacent to Boston Common and bound by Tremont Street to the northwest, Washington Street to the southeast, Avery Street to the south and Winter Street to the north. The house was constructed in 1684 and either torn down or relocated in 1830.[7] Other sources indicate that a sailor and the young wife of the older owner were caught and entombed in their trysting spot by her husband. When the Usher House was torn down in 1830, two bodies were found embraced in a cavity in the cellar.[8]

    Another source of inspiration may be from an actual couple by the name Mr. and Mrs. Luke Usher, the friends and fellow actors of his mother Eliza Poe.[9] The couple took care of Eliza's three children (including Poe) during her time of illness and eventual death.[citation needed]

    German writer E.T.A. Hoffmann, who was a role model and inspiration for Poe, published the story "Das Majorat" in 1819. There are many similarities between the two stories, like the breaking in two of a house, eerie sounds in the night, the story within a story and the house owner's being called Roderich. Because Poe was familiar with Hoffmann's works, he knew the story and cleverly drew from it using the elements for his own purposes.[10]

    Another German author, Heinrich Clauren's, 1812 story The Robber's Castle, as translated into English by John Hardman and published in Blackwood's Magazine in 1828 as "The Robber's Tower", may have served as an inspiration according to Arno Schmidt and Thomas Hansen.[11] As well as common elements, such as a young woman with a fear of premature burial interred in a sepulchre directly beneath the protagonist's chamber, stringed instruments and the living twin of the buried girl, Diane Hoeveler identifies textual evidence of Poe's use of the story, and concludes that the inclusion of Vigiliae Mortuorum secundum Chorum Ecclesiae Maguntinae (Vigils for the Dead according to the Use of the Church of Mainz) is drawn from the use of a similarly obscure book in "The Robber's Tower".[12][13]

    The theme of the crumbling, haunted castle is a key feature of Horace Walpole's Castle of Otranto (1764), which largely contributed in defining the Gothic genre. [14]

    Analysis

    1894 illustration by Aubrey Beardsley
    "The Fall of the House of Usher" is considered the best example of Poe's "totality", wherein every element and detail is related and relevant.[15]

    The presence of a capacious, disintegrating house symbolizing the destruction of the human body is a characteristic element in Poe's later work.[16]

    "The Fall of the House of Usher" shows Poe's ability to create an emotional tone in his work, specifically feelings of fear, doom, and guilt.[17] These emotions center on Roderick Usher, who, like many Poe characters, suffers from an unnamed disease. Like the narrator in "The Tell-Tale Heart", his disease inflames his hyperactive senses. The illness manifests physically but is based in Roderick's mental or even moral state. He is sick, it is suggested, because he expects to be sick based on his family's history of illness and is, therefore, essentially a hypochondriac.[18] Similarly, he buries his sister alive because he expects to bury her alive, creating his own self-fulfilling prophecy.[citation needed]

    The House of Usher, itself doubly referring both to the actual structure and the family, plays a significant role in the story. It is the first "character" that the narrator introduces to the reader, presented with a humanized description: Its windows are described as "eye-like" twice in the first paragraph. The fissure that develops in its side is symbolic of the decay of the Usher family and the house "dies" along with the two Usher siblings. This connection was emphasized in Roderick's poem "The Haunted Palace", which seems to be a direct reference to the house that foreshadows doom.[19]

    L. Sprague de Camp in his Lovecraft: A Biography wrote that "[a]ccording to the late [Poe expert] Thomas O. Mabbott, [[H.P. Lovecraft], in 'Supernatural Horror', solved a problem in the interpretation of Poe" by arguing that "Roderick Usher, his sister Madeline, and the house all shared one common soul".[20]

    The plot of this tale has prompted many critics to analyze it as a description of the human psyche, comparing, for instance, the House to the unconscious, and its central crack to a split personality. An incestuous relationship between Roderick and Madeline never is explicitly stated, but seems implied by the strange attachment between the two.[21]

    Opium, which Poe mentions several times in both his prose and poems, is mentioned twice in the tale. The gloomy sensation occasioned by the dreary landscape around the Usher mansion is compared by the narrator to the sickness caused by the withdrawal symptoms of an opiate-addict. The narrator also describes Roderick Usher's appearance as that of an "irreclaimable eater of opium."[22]

    Allusions and references
    The opening epigraph quotes "Le Refus" (1831) by the French songwriter Pierre-Jean de Béranger, translated to English as "his heart is a suspended lute, as soon as it is touched, it resounds". Béranger's original text reads "Mon cœur" (my heart) and not "Son cœur" (his/her heart).
    The narrator describes one of Usher's musical compositions as a "singular perversion and amplification of the wild air of the last waltz of Von Weber". Poe here refers to a popular piano work of his time — which, though going by the title "Weber's Last Waltz" was actually composed by Carl Gottlieb Reissiger.[23] A manuscript copy of the music was found among Weber's papers upon his death in 1826 and the work was mistakenly attributed to him.
    Usher's painting reminds the narrator of the Swiss-born British painter Henry Fuseli.
    Literary significance and criticism

    "The Fall of the House of Usher" first appeared in Burton's.
    Along with "The Tell-Tale Heart", "The Black Cat" and "The Cask of Amontillado", "The Fall of the House of Usher" is considered among Poe's more famous works of prose.[24]

    This highly unsettling macabre work is recognized as a masterpiece of American Gothic literature. Indeed, as in many of his tales, Poe borrows much from the already developed Gothic tradition. Still, as G.R. Thomson writes in his introduction to Great Short Works of Edgar Allan Poe, "the tale has long been hailed as a masterpiece of Gothic horror; it is also a masterpiece of dramatic irony and structural symbolism."[25]

    "The Fall of the House of Usher" has been criticized for being too formulaic. Poe was criticized for following his own patterns established in works like "Morella" and "Ligeia", using stock characters in stock scenes and stock situations. Repetitive themes like an unidentifiable disease, madness and resurrection are also criticized.[26] Washington Irving explained to Poe in a letter dated November 6, 1839: "You have been too anxious to present your pictures vividly to the eye, or too distrustful of your effect, and had laid on too much colouring. It is erring on the best side – the side of luxuriance."[27]

    John McAleer maintained that Herman Melville's idea for "objectifying Ahab's flawed character" in Moby-Dick came from the "evocative force" of Poe's "The Fall of the House of Usher". In both Ahab and the house of Usher, the appearance of fundamental soundness is visibly flawed – by Ahab's livid scar, and by the fissure in the masonry of Usher.[28]
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

  20. #15
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    Blog- A tribute to mothers, acknowledgment of their love, sacrifice and perseverance
    Blog Posted:7/29/2020 7:04:00 AM


    A Mother's Love, Steels Her To Infinite Faith And Sacrifice

    She cooked breakfast, got her kids off to school
    took a brief rest on her favorite stool,
    watched through front window as life flew on by
    always and always, asking herself why,
    dreams came but were rarely ever fulfilled
    even hot summer days, her soul was chilled.

    She prepared lunch, so delicious for two
    even tho' where he was she had no clue,
    out that window she saw sun beaming bright
    he had gone so far away, out of sight,
    dreams came, but his needed return did not
    still a prayer said for what she has got.

    She cooked another meal, kids must be fed
    her heart crying, is he alive or dead,
    not knowing, was a deep ache of its own
    hurts eating ever deeper in her bones,
    dreams they came, washing deep with lonesome night
    she felt the weariness of her sad plight.

    She saw the bus stop, her kids piling out
    her daughter beautiful, her son so stout,
    racing home, they both laughing all the way
    she thanking God for yet another day,
    her dreams came, her spirit asked yet again
    why did he leave them, please God do explain.

    Days chores done, all over her body ached
    pray she with her deep faith, none of it faked
    a quick shower then off to get some rest
    in bed wondering, have I done my best
    her dreams sang softly, this shall one day end
    then your blessings, divine mercy will send.

    Robert J. Lindley,
    Rhyme, ( In Tribute )
    ( A Mother's Sacrifice, Her Love, Brave And So True )
    Syllables Per Line:
    0 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10
    0 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10
    0 10 10 10 10 10 10
    Total # Syllables:300
    Total # Words::::244


    *********************

    Note- (1.)

    https://interestingliterature.com/20...ute-to-mother/

    LITERATURE
    A Short Analysis of John Greenleaf Whittier’s ‘Tribute to Mother’
    A delightful little paean to the poet’s mother

    ‘Tribute to Mother’ is a short poem in which the American Quaker poet John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-92) recalls the time when he was a small child and sat beside his mother’s knee. The poet’s mother restrained his ‘selfish moods’ and taught him a ‘chastening love’:

    Tribute to Mother

    A picture memory brings to me;
    I look across the years and see
    Myself beside my mother’s knee.
    I feel her gentle hand restrain
    My selfish moods, and know again
    A child’s blind sense of wrong and pain.
    But wiser now, a man gray grown,
    My childhood’s needs are better known.
    My mother’s chastening love I own.

    In three sets of rhyming triplets, John Greenleaf Whittier looks back on his mother from the vantage point of his own old age (‘a man gray grown’). His mother was gentle but firm, inspiring in him a sense of right and wrong, and knowing what’s best for her son (‘My childhood’s needs’). The love a mother has for her child is ‘chastening’ not just because it is designed to chasten or subdue the child’s wilder or more unacceptable impulses, instilling a strong moral sense into the child, but also because Whittier, now older and wilder, feels chastened by the love and patience his mother had for her son.

    John Greenleaf Whittier is a curious figure: associated with the group of American writers known as the Fireside Poets, who hailed from New England (Whittier himself was from Massachusetts) and wrote moral poems on domestic themes, he was inspired by the great Bard of Ayrshire, Robert Burns. (They were called the Fireside Poets because their work was often read aloud by families gathered around the fire at home; Longfellow, one of their number, even published a poetry volume titled The Seaside and the Fireside in 1850.)

    Whittier’s ‘Tribute to Mother’ embodies these two aspects of Whittier’s work, and that of the Fireside Poets more widely: the domestic and the moral. His Quaker upbringing – and the values instilled in him from a young age by his mother – probably also had a hand in making him the poet he became. So it is fitting that he penned this short tribute to his mother, acknowledging the part she played in the poet – and man – he grew up to be.

    Note (2.)

    https://interestingliterature.com/20...-to-my-mother/

    LITERATURE
    A Short Analysis of Edgar Allan Poe’s ‘To My Mother’
    A charming sonnet by Poe about mothers

    Edgar Allan Poe’s mother died in 1811, when Poe was only two years old. His father had walked out the year before, so Poe became an orphan with his mother’s death. He was taken in by John and Frances Allan of Richmond, Virginia, and would live with them until he had reached adulthood, although the Allans never formally adopted him. His middle name (really a second surname) was derived from his ‘adopted’ parents. He was probably named Edgar, by the way, after Edgar in King Lear: his (biological) parents were both actors, who were starring in a production of Shakespeare’s play when their son was born. Poe wrote ‘To My Mother’ in 18

    To My Mother

    Because I feel that, in the Heavens above,
    The angels, whispering to one another,
    Can find, among their burning terms of love,
    None so devotional as that of ‘Mother,’
    Therefore by that dear name I long have called you –
    You who are more than mother unto me,
    And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you
    In setting my Virginia’s spirit free.
    My mother – my own mother, who died early,
    Was but the mother of myself; but you
    Are mother to the one I loved so dearly,
    And thus are dearer than the mother I knew
    By that infinity with which my wife
    Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life.

    With a title like ‘To My Mother’, surely we can confidently identify the subject of Poe’s poem. But in fact the poem was not written about Poe’s biological mother who died when he was still an infant. Nor, though, was it written about his adopted mother, Mrs Allan. Instead, the subject of ‘To My Mother’ is in fact Poe’s mother-in-law, Maria Clemm – the mother of Poe’s wife (and cousin), Virginia Clemm, whom he married in 1836. Virginia died in 1847, two years before Poe wrote this touching tribute to both Virginia and her mother.

    Not only this, but Poe is somewhat dismissive of his biological mother – whom, having died when he was so young, he can hardly be expected to remember – but he combines such dismissiveness with a touch of modesty and self-effacement:

    My mother – my own mother, who died early,
    Was but the mother of myself; but you
    Are mother to the one I loved so dearly

    In other words, ‘I value the woman who brought little me into the world far less than I value you, mother-in-law, because you have acted like a mother to me and you gave birth to the wonderful woman who became my wife.’ Viewed this way, ‘To My Mother’ becomes a more intriguing poem negotiating a complex nexus of family relationships in Poe’s life: a poem called ‘To My Mother’ which is not about his own mother (either of them), and in fact mentions his biological mother only to highlight how much closer he is to someone else; and a poem which (contrary to all those old jokes throughout history about the wife’s mother) actually praises the mother-in-law, and becomes as much a poem about the love for a wife (an uxorious poem, if you like) as it is a poem about a mother.

    ‘To My Mother’ was published in July 1849, only months before Poe’s untimely death, aged just 40. The poem is a Shakespearean sonnet, rhymed ababcdcdefefgg, and shows that Poe retained his literary skills right up until shortly before he died, not long after he was found delirious and wearing somebody else’s clothes on the streets of Baltimore.
    Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; 07-29-2020 at 10:16 AM.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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