In Blake's EyE; thy syMmEtRy

During the initial reading, the first thing that I've noticed in The Lamb is the gentleness which envelopes the entire poem. There's meekness and peace; a feeling of serenity. An idea about the lamb being Jesus Christ, for He is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world, had also crossed my head. On the other hand, reading The Tyger for the 1st time, the words such as fire, dread, terror, and spears caught my attention. Curiosity was aroused upon seeing that this poem is full of clamor and turmoil.

With these ideas in mind, I abruptly considered these poems contradictory.

But, is that really so?

The Songs of Innocence and of Experience are series of poems showing us how we view the world at each phase of life. They are, as what Blake put it, "Showing the contrary states of Human Soul". However, the word contrary must not be taken per se, symmetry and complementarity must also be taken into consideration. The two poems, The Lamb and The Tyger, embodied the seemingly opposing perspectives of the world and of life. His poems juxtapose the simple and the blemish free life of a child against the bruised and corrupted world of grown up. While The Lamb reflected purity, The Tyger radiated dark forces. These two states of nature are not to be seen independently because they are supplementary. They present the fuller view of life. It is not always full of joy but not full of sorrow either. You can never understand the true essence of one if you are not going to consider the other. We can never be considered experienced if we haven't gone through innocence because for you to become everything you must start from being nothing. As we notice in life, it is always in equilibrium.

The Fury of Overshoes

Anne Sexton is considered as a confessional poet. She fought depression all of her life and most of her works reflected this inner struggle.

Her poem The Fury of Overshoes reflected so much of her personal dilemmas. It's filled with anxiety, frustration and anger. With the inclusion of the word fury, it showed that she'd been through a several sorts of anger until the end of her life. Perhaps she just used this anger to mask the real emotion that is wanting to escape and that is--fear.

The poem showed how we wanted to grow up but then dreaded growing up at the same time. As a child, we tend to envy those '"big people'' and thinking when would be the time that we'll be part of their world. There's eagerness to also do the things that they are doing, to also experience the things they are experiencing. Because of this eagerness, we end up neglecting to enjoy the experiences as a child; we forgot that these "clumsy" childhood experiences are relevant in the transition stage. It is one way of preparing ourselves to the evils of the real world. Giving up the comforts of "your nightlight, and your teddy, and your thumb" may be hard but then, these changes, these developments are essential part of growing up. By giving up "your nightlight" you are then being conditioned to face the world where the big people are, which is dark-where fear is inevitable. The wolf is no longer under the bed but instead facing you straight in the eyes, ready to attack anytime.

Hanging Fire

This poem tells so much about how a 14-year old African American girl is having a psychological dilemma; identity versus role confusion. She's dealing with conflicts; internal-given that she's in the teenage phase constructing a sense of self; external-given that she's of a black race and is being subjected to societal pressures.

With the title "Hanging Fire", it seemed that the girl is in a certain point in time wherein she took a halt even just for a while because there are so much uncertainties enveloping her. It's like in that point of delay she is trying to understand the things around her, especially the things that needed consideration given that she's black. It seemed that the girl lived in an era where there is an intense civil rights movement thus increasing her anxiety level and skepticism of what may the future brings.

In dealing with all these changes, these uncertainties, these dilemmas and confusions, would it be easier if you hold on to somebody who would guide you along the way? In the poem, the girl is trying to reach for her mother, who is "in the bedroom with the door closed". That factor is really important in this phase. Perhaps that's why those last 2 lines are stressed and appeared to be incremental.

Artist and his craft

According to Henry Ward Beecher, every artist dips his brush in his own soul and paints his own nature into his picture. I think every artist has his own unique craft, the purest representation possible for his soul. As to the hunger artist, it's on his way of fasting. Once renowned for his asceticism and his ability to fast, he is now looked upon as a mere oddity; just another circus attraction.

Sometimes it is so frustrating for an artist who has a deep passion and overwhelming desire to produce a craft but could not find the proper outlet. A life of an artist is like a struggle between expression and the appreciation of the art. It's so difficult to conform with the demands of the people but then this is one way of ensuring a continuous appreciation of the art. It is also this conformity, to the standards of society and the natural standards of beauty we are all born with, that makes the craft of the artist be considered as an art; a beautiful art. Without following these standards, never can an artist say they produced something that was truly beautiful. In other words, unless the artwork has followed some standard, no one will ever go up to it or hear it and think of it. Even how hard he tried to express himself there's always limiting factors.That's the dilemma of an artist with his craft.

Be creative and cross the boundaries of art.

uNtrAcEabLe Amontillado

Something of vengeance I had tasted for the first time; as aromatic wine it seemed, on swallowing, warm and racy: its after-flavor, metallic and corroding, gave me a sensation as if I had been poisoned. But by taking revenge, a man is but even with his enemy; but in passing over it, he is superior--a sweet revenge. This man, Dr. Niell Cox, had borne me exceptional jeopardy and I seek justice to it; wont just sit for nothing.

This man is but a great follower of his Hippocratic oath. Well respected and honored, not because of anything else but his miraculous scalpel touch. Being hailed as one of the most powerful men, no need to account the lives wasted and the happiness vanished, he holds their lives at his mercy. Who is happy and rich? He that is content. Who is that? Nobody.

It was about twilight, in one far-off corner of a busy street clouded with massive people and nobody seemed to care for anybody, I bumped with this friend of mine. There he was wearing his ever glamorous black coat with gray tie in contrast to usual immaculate white one. At last this is the time, the only chance. I was so pleased to see him.

I said to him, "My dear Dr. Cox , how nice it is to see you here. How remarkably well you are today. I have come up with this extra ordinary liquid solution but I have my doubts as to what is it.

"How?" he coerced. "It may be a breakthrough. How sure are you?"

"I doubt it though but this may be something relevant in your field. I will take it into consideration", I replied.

"A solvent."

"It might be."

"Sounds interesting!"

"Perhaps! I'm on my way to Dr. Adams, for him to see it" I said.

"No, no! Allow me." he insisted. "Come, let us go."

"But it's already getting late and I heard you are not in good condition."

"This is nothing. I just had good shots of wine with some friends. Let's proceed to your chamber."

Thus speaking, carrying with him a bottle of a genuine wine of Amontillado, we both went to my chamber in a secluded area in the heart of the forest of nowhere. This was made of bricks and of exotic style for the area becomes narrower and narrower as it goes downward. No one was there but us. Resembled that of a forgotten sanctuary, it was an artificial chamber built just for this purpose of research. It was a room of organized yet aged things. Bottles of solutions were everywhere and various research specimen on the long table; many specimens end up in one or more unsophisticated automated analyzers. But the most dominant and notable in the perimeter was that of huge drums of chemicals and solutions.

We proceeded to the inner suites of that chamber. We passed and nearly stumbled down on some clinical apparatus which were filled with interwoven cob webs and accumulated with dusts. I heard him coughed.

"This may not be a good idea. This place is contaminated of various chemicals and these may not be ideal for your condition." I said.

"Don't mind me." he said as he gulp some liquor from the bottle."Ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh!"

Poor man; so desperate! Desperate as I am.

"Well, there's still enough time to return. It may be much better if we do this some other time." I argued.

"Enough argument!" he said. "Cough virus wont kill me unless its of dreaded strain, I can distinguish it myself by profession ."

"Yes, of course I know that but if nothing seemed right feel free to tell me."

He then offered me some wine to drink.

"Toast to your breakthrough." he said.

"To your life" I replied

He again took my arm and we continued our way to the deeper, darker and more isolated portion of the chamber.

"This room is extensive." he said.

"The Moriarty clan was a great one.

"I forget your arms."

"A huge human foot of gold, in a field azure, the foot crushes a serpent rampant whose fangs are embedded in the heel."

"and the motto?"

"Ojo por ojo, diente por diente" (An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth)

"Good!" he then said.

Then eventually we continued with a little illumination coming from my flash light. We passed by so many old oak doors, huge ones as we went into the deeper portion. Stumbled down by some flask on the floor, tubes of various types for specific purposes and few burners. Some discarded electronic equipments are in one corner and another. Dropping of water could be heard somewhere.

From time to time, he is taking some more gulp from his bottle of Amontillado.

Then there we are. Surrounded by huge drums of solutes, he stood there bewildered and stupidly thinking what is the best thing to do now. I asked him to check the one closer to us as to what it contains. Hurriedly securing a rope on his waist as he went up that drum of 10 feet high and 3 feet circumference. He peeped down and that's the chance I grasped.

"Go down." I said. Then released the chain.

"This is just plain H2O and nothing is unusual about it." he called out.

"There is!"I shouted back. "Wait until you feel it, until you finally know it's finished." That I told him as I adjust the knob of one drum. I turned and continued, until it reached it's maximum concentration. The sulfuric acid is now on its effect. It would appear that nothing was submerged in there, nothing at all. The more concentrated, the better.

No trace. Nothing!

"Ha ha ha-he he he! this isn't a good jest my friend" he called aloud.

"No, it isn't! Now, no mercy lies on your hands."

"Have mercy!!" he begged

No, it is never enough compensation for stealing the life of my beloved thus stealing my chance of life as well. I thought to myself.

"Dr. Cox." I called again.

There's deafening silence.

My heart grew sick; it was the dampness of the room that made it so. Covering the drum with concrete steel and turning the adjustment button on the danger level. He is such an extraordinary person with extraordinary wit thus might as well give him an extraordinary execution. There I made a one of a kind mixture of solution, sorpredente! Que en paz descance.




*Dr. Cox in real life is a British doctor who was convicted of attempted euthanasia.
*Moriarty means noble or exalted.