Welcome back to your one-stop drop for all things poetry! We have a real doozy for you this week that’ll really make your brain whirl. It’s a great way to kick off the second semester, so sit back, relax, and enjoy the wisdom. Each edition will include two poems, the first being a featured piece written by a famous poet that will be analyzed and interpreted according to my point of view. Of course, everyone’s interpretation is different and valid, and the comment section will be open for any further discussion. The second piece is written by yours truly and will be open to complete interpretation and analysis. Go forth, enjoy, and as you read, remember: “It is not what you look at that matters, it is what you see.” – Henry David Thoreau

Poem One: The Tiger by William Blake

Tiger Tiger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears
And water’d heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tiger Tiger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Thoughts: William Blake contemplates one of the most intense questions of the universe in this poem: If there is a loving and compassionate God that created us and has powers far beyond even our reckoning, why is evil still allowed in the world? Why do good things happen to bad people? Blake uses the tiger in this poem to represent the evil of the world, while we are the helpless lambs. This metaphor also extends to classify human beings as the Lambs of God, whom our Sheppard is supposed to protect. The speaker questions why God, the “immortal hand or eye”, would bring his children into the world only to have them overtaken by evil. The poem also begs the question: Is God fully in control of our universe? Are his powers truly omnipotent? After all, if God is truly omnipotent he would have to create evil himself if it is in the world. Blake plays with this question as well, asking “Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee [the Tiger]?” In the end, Blake actually offers no direct answer to the question. However, Blake argues that the Tiger is none of our concern, and trying to understand God’s motives in keeping the Tiger among us is complete foll; after all, we as human beings will never be able to understand the powers of our Creator. Instead of repeatedly asking such broad and intense questions, we need to accept the Tiger’s existence and stop trying to determine how he was created or what is his purpose. He exists in the “forest of the night” and we will forever be lost searching for his secrets, so instead we must trust in God and move forward in peace and trust in our Creator. A profound and complicated poem about a question humanity still wrestles with today.

Poem Two: Dreams of All Hours by D.C.

Hundreds of slumbering dreams have passed me.

Each night greets me like a cold innkeeper,

His unwelcoming lantern thrust in my face.

The scruff on his chin is scratched with contempt.

Rain does not sway his decision to turn me away.

I spend the night alone, groveling with the swine.

Evening after evening, sleep after sleep, Death is upon me.

He cares not for my life, but instead for my love.

Night is but another eight hours to spend alone.

Thoughts provoke me, but never do I call for them.

Death chuckles at my constant torment.

Would giving him my hope save me? Would I be free?

The billions of people convince me otherwise.

No words, or even knowledge, shed on my predicament.

Only the way they walk and talk of their own troubles.

There is also her, the delicate red hair and misty eyes.

She comforts me, in thought alone, and I pray to keep it,

Lest I be brave and cast away my ignorance.

One must always carefully consider abandoning ignorant ways,

For the heart thinks cheerier than the brain.

Beware the ability for the mind to surrender and concede,

For too many dreams die after being longfully dreamt.

Oh, How I wish to plant my feet on solid ground,

But there is no way of knowing if my crops will flourish or weep.

And so she rests beside me, asleep with the night.

She walks through the springtime fields with me only.

Her hands are enfolded in mine, her smile beams.

Our unanimous laughter soars through the air,

And our joy lofts high over the melancholy we once knew!

Or so it is in the chambers of my wishes.

No one told me it was easy, but I never knew it was this hard:

To look at someone, become trapped in a dream with them,

And yet the dream is frozen in a cemented period of time.

Action requires the fortress to be vulnerable, the defenses to fall.

The hardest part is uncertainty, and the fear of loss once again.

Confidence is a lie we tell ourselves, one is either sure or unsure.

I want to give and receive the most complicated emotion.

Not just to anyone, but to her.

I love seeing that bright smile, the serene sound of her laughter.

The eternal sunshine shines on her in my ocular reflection.

Pitter patter of rain and hazes of sun; all seem to compliment her.

Could I be the rain man? The golden keeper? Or just an admirer?

Someway, somehow, my mind will show me the light of the truth.

Rather, my neck will extend to the guillotine and she will signal.

Kill or spare? Omnipotence is not mine, and so the verdict.

Until then, the hours of sleep will continue to pass.

The thoughts of her and I will saunter through my dreams.

Death as my crutch, God as my staff, I clasp my eyes shut.

-D.C.

I hope you enjoyed this edition of A Poem For Your Thoughts! Stay tuned next week for another Poetry Friday and another two poems to analyze!