Naked Echo
Echo—Echo Beside Still Waters
She thought him magnificent, thought him Love
incarnate; his beauty trapped her beside
that fell-fated glen . . . narcissus inside
himself heard her song as some new part of
himself—that’s just how he is—and her love
was more obsession, really, though she died
to justify it as more, song sung lust-dyed
to haunt all time. And yet, push come to shove,
is obsession so dissimilar to
fiery passions romanticized and held
to heaven as fired brands of Truth? What do
angels feel in love? Or saints? Who’s beheld
such? If not Narcissus in mirrors—True
as Echo to her own—in this they meld.
David M Pitchford
22 May 2008
Filed under: Petrarchan Sonnet, Xenoneoclassicist Poetry, classic paintings, creative souls, ekphrasis, morality tales, myth, nude, nudity, obsessions, poem, poems, poems about paintings, poetry, poetry revolution, sonnet | Tagged: Bougereau, ekphrastic poems, Petrarchan Sonnet, poems about paintings, sonnet
This is such a cleverly crafted, sublime sonnet, David. The echo of echo in the title, “narcissus inside himself heard her song as some new part of himself,” quite profound in its implications, really; in treating this subject psychologically, you enlarge their characteristics beyond what we already know, and show your depth of knowledge in the classics even moreso; and is there ever really an end to “fiery passions romanticized”? And,”If not Narcissus in mirrors—True
as Echo to her own—in this they meld”. Indeed!
Good question - what is the difference between obsession and passion? I think the artwork matched the poem very well, BTW.
-Nicole
Perhaps passion is the heart’s obssession, while what we think of normally as obssession is a hyperfocus of the intellect. Sound good?
Beatifully crafted as always.
and in response…
Deep Rooted Want
She holds out fingertips, touches Spring-blooms.
Yellow and white blossoms with narrow leaves
grow so innocently beside her path.
She caresses petals, pleasure courses
through, moves her from stalk to stamen, heady
perfume spills into the air with a puff,
pollinating her memory senses.
Beneath soil, buried deep, bulbous heart,
swollen enough to rupture above ground,
flowers; its cup-shaped center offering
her eyes a resting place to remember.
It is an echo of want from a past
too long gone to recapture, a mirror,
a reflection – romance, passion and love.
Siobhan
05/23/08
And yours is also beautiful as well, Siobahn.
I thought about the darker side of obsession and wrote this (can be found at: http://ravenswingpoetry.com/2008/05/23/obsession/#respond) in response:
“Obsession”
To watch is to want, and
To want beyond the heart’s
Boundaries becomes murder
As you rain covetous concupiscence
Upon the object of your desire
And in a bizarre metamorphosis, it
Becomes a frozen, dead, thing,
Faint and devoid of the very life that drew
Your eyes.
You despise
Death – or do you?
The frozen Audubon bird suspended by wire,
The silent statute untouched by Pygmalion’s desire,
The once-young bride tossed onto a funeral pyre;
All are dead, devoid of love –
And so is the object of your love
As you suffocate it,
Trapping it in deadly amber
By your odious obsession
And jarring jealousy.
What the Hell is s/he
Doing? observers ask silently,
Watching the spectacle
As your trapping tentacles
Of avarice wrap around it,
Knowing that your prize
Will vanish from within
Your clutches.
-Nicole
[...] I’d call this a slant response, since it’s more of a take on the idea of obsession) to “Naked Echo” by David Pitchford. I also suggest checking out “Deep Rooted Want” written by [...]