Dionysus Rising

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Whisper, Sweet Muse, Your Song into My Soul

They tell me those halcyon days are gone,

that muses are but childish tales from long

ago centuries. They say that, along

with all the myths, the gods are dead, have gone

to give rise to science . . . They say no one

is home in the heavens, that we belong

in Nature merely as a gambit of strong

probability—primordial spawn

 

of chance; nevertheless, I hear you call

to the essence of me, that immaterial

self that wanders the stars, ride when they fall

down Sky’s long slant, and imagines the real

infinity of possibility. All

life is song, Wu-Li dance celestial!

 

So whisper, sweet muse, your song to my soul

that I may strum my lyre to your melodies

and share wonder with this ‘they’, with this whole

disenfranchised land of melancholies

 

and rampant anxiety; sing my voice

salve to life-numbed hearts and minds dream deprived

by those Apollonian, who by choice

or mistaken faith preach life as survived

 

existence of the reason only. Teach

us, my muse, the wonder of miracles

in life’s constant complexity, and reach

our hearts that our spirit’s unmanacled!

 

Whisper your song into my soul, oh muse,

lift our hearts and of reason disabuse!

David M Pitchford
28 May 2008

Comments ardently invited! This is a dual sonnet, a Petrarchan opening with a Shakespearian close. Does it work? What works best? What doesn’t quite make it?

Thanks so much for dropping in :-)

5 Responses to “Dionysus Rising”

  1. I am weak in my knowledge of sonnets, but I will say that I loved this. I liked the construction and your usages of words.

    This evoked a response from me…

    MUSE

    I am muse.
    They call me Calliope.
    I break open my chest and let the Universe
    Leap out of my heart, and then
    Hand it to you on a silver platter
    No matter
    What it is that you seek to sing
    About.
    I stir the idea pot, that cosmic matter
    Which swirls in fractal rainbows and sits
    Ready for any mortal to take hold of
    And bound to his – or her – bosom
    (I do not discriminate).
    I’m singing in the distance –
    I am always singing in the distance –
    And sending up song seeds up to
    The ceiling of collection consciousness
    Where they plant themselves and bloom,
    Becoming flowers for you to gather
    As a fourth dimension traveler.
    You spray their petals and perfect scent
    When you sing
    When you write
    When you dance
    And when you dance your fingers
    On string, ivory, or drum membranes -
    And you can let forth,
    Creating the music and lyrics to
    A Wu-Li dance
    Or a Wu-Tang dance
    Whatever your rhyme, reason, or season.
    I am not dead,
    I never was,
    And I never will be.
    I am muse.
    I am Calliope.

    http://ravenswingpoetry.wordpress.com/2008/05/28/musemuse/

    -Nicole

  2. Oops! It should be:

    http://ravenswingpoetry.com/2008/05/28/muse/

    -Nicole

  3. [...] that I have written some poetic reactions either to poems of other writings. David Pitchford wrote Dionysus Rising on his blog. This is my response. [...]

  4. i have a hard time with form,, and the sonnet is one that i just cannot seem to wrap around my words… i must say that i did not even notice that this was written in any form,, let alone a blend of two,, and backward as that may be,, that is the highest of compliments from me when reading formed poetry…

    so i would have to venture to say ,, that whatever you were trying to do you did fluidly and without any loss of meaning or emotion… bravo!!

    Thank you thank you thank you. That is indeed high praise. Form really should be invisible when handled skillfully. So I am very happy to have the compliment! Thank you.
    David :-)

  5. i had to change my domain name to whypaisley.com please change your links and or feed as necessary

    all you will have to do is remove the - from between why and paisley,, everything else will remain the same and will redirect you to the correct page…. sorry for the inconvenience…

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