Here's my attempt at a Shakespearean Sonnet. I cannot think of a title fitting my piece, but then again, the titles of Shakespeare's pieces are simply the first lines of each. Iambic pentameter is hard, I'll admit to that.
So swiftly does the heart attach itself
To something knowing little of its make
Not well aware of being placed a-shelf
To opportunity t'is not yet waked
The rope is tight about its strain-ed neck
Deception stays the knot in shak-ed hand
The pirate leaps, and gallops, bounds on deck
Such beaut of treasure tuck'd by orn’ry band
The heart is locked away in seaward chest
A tempest torrent tosses landward miss'd
Aboard the key, jew’l precious lost at best
To fateful night of parting, ‘pon lips kiss'd
Beware of where thine darling heart wears thin
tis easy ‘nough to break, ne’er ‘tend to’ve been.
Friday, November 29, 2013
Friday, November 15, 2013
The Chorus Repeats
Quick note: I read a different version of Antigone because my original copy went missing. The version I have does not have line numbers to reference, and is also translated slightly differently. I will do my best to cite. Here we go:
I am merely an onlooker, my thoughts verbalized for the benefit of the multitude. Oh, the things I have seen, heard, and inwardly felt! Creon, king of Thebes, has buried the fallen hero Eteocles, honorable in death, but has left the body of his brother to rot and fester. And so his actions should be, for Polynices betrayed our precious Thebes. Creon, a strong leader with an "arrogance [that] Transcends the wrath of Zeus" (near the end of Scene 2) has ordered that no living soul is to grant the traitor the honor of burial, lest they lose their own lives to the gallows. Yet, a sentry finds the body buried, and is quick to turn in the culprit. I sided with Creon, saying "Never may the anarchic man find rest at my hearth"(last line of Scene 1) Then the identity of the criminal came to light. It was none other than Creon's niece, Antigone, sister to both Polynices and Eteocles. The girl was "like her father Oedipus, both headstrong and deaf to reason" (Scene 2, about a quarter of the way in). She was in folly to have buried her brother in direct disobedience to the law of the land. She deserved her imminent death.
Then I think of sweet, desolate Antigone. The poor girl has been left with only her fiance, Haemon, son of Creon, and her wisp of a sister Ismene, for a family. She honored her abandoned brother with a proper burial that is in fact prescribed by the gods themselves. She holds to a higher law than that of her uncle, "working the will of heaven" (last line of Scene 3) Her sister took her side, but did not stand on trial with her; her lover turned against his father in her defense, and still Creon resolved to kill her for her transgression. Antigone died a more noble death in her suicide than could be afforded by the gallows. Haemon takes his own life to be with his bride, his mother Euridice following suit in sorrow. Creon is left alone in the world, having been too late in his attempts at appeasing the gods in the burial of Polynices. His law has faltered to that of the gods, although he initially meant well.
In the end, the old priest Teiresias' prophecy was not wrong. He has never been wrong, and the reason as to why Creon ever doubted him lies with his reasoning for his hubris. Creon has learned a valuable lesson only tragedy could teach.
I am merely an onlooker, my thoughts verbalized for the benefit of the multitude. Oh, the things I have seen, heard, and inwardly felt! Creon, king of Thebes, has buried the fallen hero Eteocles, honorable in death, but has left the body of his brother to rot and fester. And so his actions should be, for Polynices betrayed our precious Thebes. Creon, a strong leader with an "arrogance [that] Transcends the wrath of Zeus" (near the end of Scene 2) has ordered that no living soul is to grant the traitor the honor of burial, lest they lose their own lives to the gallows. Yet, a sentry finds the body buried, and is quick to turn in the culprit. I sided with Creon, saying "Never may the anarchic man find rest at my hearth"(last line of Scene 1) Then the identity of the criminal came to light. It was none other than Creon's niece, Antigone, sister to both Polynices and Eteocles. The girl was "like her father Oedipus, both headstrong and deaf to reason" (Scene 2, about a quarter of the way in). She was in folly to have buried her brother in direct disobedience to the law of the land. She deserved her imminent death.
Then I think of sweet, desolate Antigone. The poor girl has been left with only her fiance, Haemon, son of Creon, and her wisp of a sister Ismene, for a family. She honored her abandoned brother with a proper burial that is in fact prescribed by the gods themselves. She holds to a higher law than that of her uncle, "working the will of heaven" (last line of Scene 3) Her sister took her side, but did not stand on trial with her; her lover turned against his father in her defense, and still Creon resolved to kill her for her transgression. Antigone died a more noble death in her suicide than could be afforded by the gallows. Haemon takes his own life to be with his bride, his mother Euridice following suit in sorrow. Creon is left alone in the world, having been too late in his attempts at appeasing the gods in the burial of Polynices. His law has faltered to that of the gods, although he initially meant well.
In the end, the old priest Teiresias' prophecy was not wrong. He has never been wrong, and the reason as to why Creon ever doubted him lies with his reasoning for his hubris. Creon has learned a valuable lesson only tragedy could teach.
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