Poetry Through the Ages for July

In the blocks below, please find your weekly poems written by me. There are two components to each poem: The poem I wrote as a child (I started writing poetry when I was 11) and an analogy of the lines and word use, using my current and adult understanding of poetic devices and how my lines conveyed the message using devices and styles I learned as an adult. If you have any questions or concerns about the poems, please reach out to me!

Week One:

Rivers of Blood—2003. Age 14

They scream,

They rant,

They rave,

They look for something to kill.

The see you.

You run, for you know they will kill you.

You hide,

Not seeing the cracks beneath your feet,

Cracks they can get through.

You don’t see the darkness in the water,

You don’t realize that when you see it,

You will join them.

You need to know that that will happen

In order for you to survive.

You don’t realize that the further you run,

The faster they will come back,

So you must make a decision–

To stay, die and join them,

Or to leave and live a life of a person that hates everything.

The choice is yours,

Make it quickly,

They are coming.

Analogy:

As a personal poem, this poem needs more analysis because of the impression that the poet is speaking to the reader directly (like the first poem). As a free–form poem—the first one I wrote—this style and word choice are different and in most ways, more complicated than the first two which had a specific rhyming scheme and a story to follow.

The inspiration for this poem were shadows cast in the lines of tiles in a dimly–lit room that looked like rivers of blood from where I stood. I think it was someone’s garage that was used as storage so the shadows bounced around on the floor instead of creating sharp lines to mimic the crevices between the tiles. I thought to myself “What if these odd shadows could consume us because they don’t look like normal shadows?” So I decided to write a poem about what I saw.

They scream,—

The correct form of poetry is to read poems out loud because gives the lines more meaning. In this case, the word “scream” is a powerful word here because it allows the reader to use spoken devices like “scream” or “shout” as part of the reading. If the poet read this poem out loud, would they do the poem justice and scream at this point, or would they leave the screaming to the shadow people from the cracks?

They rant,—

Who is “they”? No one knows. At the time, the poet thought the “they” were the shadows themselves. “They” could mean a collective of metaphorical beings from the shadows or the collection of shadows as a whole. As for “scream,” can shadows scream? Are they alive in this context (since they can move in ways shadows traditionally can’t)?

They rave,—

This isn’t a rave as in a party or a good time, for the poet who steps onto the shadows. The shadows rave because they are excited for another unsuspecting victim who travels in their domain without looking where they walk.

They look for something to kill.—

If shadows as entities existed, the question is: How would they kill, particularly if they only existed in the cracks of the ground. These cracks are too small for hands (if they have hands) to grab their victims and pull them into the cracks, so the method would have to be psychological. In the case of the shadows that the poet saw in these cracks, the poet figured they would probably focus on the emotions of why the poet noticed the shadows in the first place: Why was the poet looking down while walking? Was the poet sad, or scared of what was in front of them?

They see you.—

So far, the focus was around the shadows caused by the lines in the ground and the storage boxes, and the ‘rivers of blood’ from the title. In the process of looking for the shadows and how they bounced off the walls in odd places and in the cracks or grooves of the floor, the light in some of these spots gave the visible shadows a color, and it was this color (the color of blood) that followed the person who stood on the cracks and crevices on the floor.

You run, for you know they will kill you.—

In a small room filled with boxes and a limited number of doors and windows, if you run from fear of the shadows or if the rivers of blood break the bank and come for you, what are your options? You can’t escape and at the time, the poet pictured being devoured by these tiny cracks in the floor as a punishment for staring at them for too long.

You hide,—

Again, where can you or the poet feasibly hide? Since the shadows are everywhere because they can’t leave the small room and are on every surface because of the lack of space, the only option for you or the poet to hide is inside one of the storage boxes (granted it’s empty). If you do this, you won’t be able to see the rivers of blood encroaching on your space.

Not seeing the cracks beneath your feet,—

In a storage box or on the outside, the cracks and crevices from the uneven concrete underneath you aren’t always as visible as you’d like them to be. The poet would ask questions like “Is that a crack or a long wire, or a piece of tape?” Not knowing where you can step safely adds to the rivers of blood around you, and the poet knows it.

Cracks they can get through.—

This is the first time specific cracks are mentioned in the poem in the context they (the shadows who live in the rivers of blood) can reach you or the poet from a physical sense, or is this a metaphor for not noticing cracks in your own life/surface that you have to walk past every day?

You don’t see the darkness in the water,—

Where did the water come from? Were the rivers of blood normal rivers filled with water until they overflowed with blood and there wasn’t any more space for the water (how things used to be)?

You don’t realize that when you see it,—

Again, the word “you” is ambiguous. Does it mean you as the reader or “you” as in the poet who has a direct connection to this room and the rivers of blood because this is what they are explaining by this poem?

You will join them.—

Joining, in this case, can include the rivers of blood (in which case you or the poet will have to die to contribute to the rivers) or it could include the shadows themselves, made by items with odd shadows on the wall. The question is why are the shadows and the rivers are seen as two separate entities: The rivers of blood flow in the cracks on the floor while the shadows form shadows of the storage boxes who want to avoid the cracks. Do the boxes understand that they will perish if they get wet with blood as easily as perishing with water? The storage boxes are metaphors for something. Can you figure out what it is?

You need to know that that will happen—

What will happen? Joining the shadows and rivers of blood? How would you know this needs to happen, did the strange shadows tell you?

In order for you to survive.—

Surviving in a small room (again, metaphor) with the constant fear of being consumed by the rivers of blood and the shadows doesn’t sound like a peaceful way to live. What incentive does the poet have to stay alive if their days will be filled with constant fear and potential death if they step on the wrong crack? Not much, to be honest.

You don’t realize that the further you run,—

At this stage, the poet is speaking directly to the reader (you). The first ‘you’ is the poet while the second ‘you’ is the reader: The poet is trying to warn the reader not to run away from the rivers or shadows because they know from experience that that doesn’t work.

The faster they will come back,—

A clear outcome of what happens when you run from the rivers and shadows. A question can be asked: How many times has the poet tried to run but failed, and had to face the decision of resignation instead of fighting further. Is there a limit on how many times ‘they’ will come back? No–one knows, not even the poet.

So you must make a decision:—

“You” in this case is the reader, but this is a loaded question. What decision does the reader have when their odds are stacked against them in the form of the rivers of blood who will consume them at the first opportunity, or the shadows that creep along the walls and surfaces in unrealistic shapes? Is it the rivers of blood that make these shapes or do the shadows have a mind of their own?

To stay, die and join them,—

The option of living with them (the rivers and shadows) isn’t an option at this point. This option was taken away in line that discussed survival. The minute the reader has to come to terms with their survivability at the cost of their sanity, is the choice of life really an option?

Or to leave and live a life of a person that hates everything.—

This is the first time there is talk of leaving at all. What will the reader or poet leave? The room itself or the effects of the rivers of blood and the shadows? If the reader or poet is able to leave the room, would they realistically be able to leave the effects on their mind as easily as exiting the room with the cracks at all?

The choice is yours,—

The choice, in this case, is (or should be) whether to leave the physical room or leave in a psychological sense where you may not leave the room at all, but if your sanity leaves, your fear, and reasoning for keeping out of the rivers of blood won’t be a deciding factor anymore. This essentially gives you the choice of sanity or death. Realistically, which is more severe for you?

Make it quickly,—

This gives a sense of urgency to your decision. Why is the reader or poet given a time limit now? Is there a sense of urgency from the shadows regarding time and light—keep in mind the word ‘light’ wasn’t used as a cause for the shadows—or a sense of urgency from the rivers of blood in the sense of the rivers needing to feed according to a timetable to be filled and avoid returning to water.

They are coming.—

This is the end of the poem and the story for the reader and the poet themselves. Who is ‘they’? The rivers, the shadows, or the cracks themselves? And if ‘they’ get you or the poet, where will you be taken? To the rivers to help them feel or to the shadows that cast odd shapes on the walls? This could be the reason the shadows have odd shapes: It doesn’t have anything to do with the storage boxes or rivers. If the shadows are the ‘they’ in this sense, would the boxes hold the bodies of unsuspecting victims, or are the storage boxes a metaphor for keeping things in the dark before they rush out with no control in the rivers of blood?

What do you think? Do you agree with my understanding and symbolism? I’d love to know!

Please use this [ link ] to the optional forum to start a discussion about the poem. Alternatively, you can use any of the email links from the contact [ page ].

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Week Two:

Emptiness—2003. Age 14

Echoes of emptiness

Shimmering through the walls,

I hear it as the shattered glass falls.

My memory locked away behind a golden gate,

The echoes of children determine their fate.

I lay down in my memory behind a golden key,

I wished fate would come fast as I hoped it would be.

My thoughts, my dreams shattered like a lost soul,

For another life I wish to behold.

As my memory slips away,

I hear laughter, golden and gay.

It went so fast, as if I had no past.

My childhood dreams slip through the seams

Like the sunshine at dusk or so it seems.

Analogy:

Echoes of emptiness—

I wrote this poem when I was alone in an entertainment lounge that my family had access to. The space was quite large so my voice and the hum of the fridges echoed in the empty spaces which added an eerie feeling.

Shimmering through the walls—

Along the walls, there were mirrors and long strip curtains that blew over the mirrors. It made the room like it was shimmering because of the sparkles in the curtains, and I wondered if the shimmering would pass through concrete and wood if it was glaring enough. (I knew it wouldn’t, this was just in my head.)

I hear it as the shattered glass falls.—

I imagined the mirrors falling because of the wind (and because I really like broken glass), and I thought the mirrors or pieces of the mirror could fall to the floor, hopefully still holding the colors of the curtains.

My memory locked away behind a golden gate,—

I had a medical emergency in 2001 that affected my memory (and a lot of other things) and I was trying to remember what colors the curtains were before I got sick. I will call this medical emergency my “factory reset” from now on.

The echoes of children determine their fate.—

This was me, I was the child who echoed (cried) at the time because I was still sick from the factory reset and my emotional control was non–existent. I said that these echoes would determine my fate if people thought I was a whiny, crying child and didn’t want me hanging around with their children.

I lay down in my memory behind a golden key,—

I don’t know why I chose gold for this analogy; I generally dislike gold, but that may have been the reason. If I didn’t like how I was feeling, choosing a color I didn’t like seems fitting, you know? The line “lay down in...” refers to my dreams. They were very vivid (still are, which is great) at the time, and a lot of my dreams helped me remember things from before the factory reset.

I wished fate would come fast as I hoped it would be.—

I was very depressed at this time because of losing my memory and feeling like a stranger in my home because I was sick and people treated me like I was made out of glass. I often wished I would just die in my sleep, letting fate decide what happens to me and my family.

My thoughts, my dreams shattered like a lost soul,—

At the time, I believed in souls and an afterlife (not necessarily a religious afterlife) and I thought that my life as I knew it was over, so my dreams of becoming a marine biologist were shattered. Now that I’m a lot older, I realized that dream wouldn’t have come true anyway because my math and science abilities are non–existent, but I worked with the knowledge I had.

For another life I wish to behold.—

This was the life of someone who didn’t suffer that factory reset and could go on their way like normal, laughing with their friends about boys and homework.

As my memory slips away,—

Again, my memory was off and on so I never knew what I’d remember and what I’d forget. I had tons and tons of Sticky Notes in my cupboard and along my mirror. If I lost a Sticky Note, that memory and time spent with people who made it a memory were gone forever.

I hear laughter, golden and gay.—

I had a younger brother by now, he was two at the time, and his laugh was so pure and spontaneous, it reminded me that not everything was bleak.

It went so fast, as if I had no past.—

I think I was referring to the time before the factory reset because everything was a blur and I felt like the 11 years before went by in 6 months.

My childhood dreams slip through the seams—

This is a repeat of the first line that spoke about my dreams that were shattered but this line is more specific because it mentions my ‘childhood dreams’ and all the dreams a child has, like a safe home (which mine was, I was just sick so I couldn’t really leave), and friends who wrote when I was sick but all of them dissappeared when my factory reset happened, except one.

Like the sunshine at dusk or so it seems.—

Sunshine at dusk isn’t as bright as the sunshine at dawn and it felt like my sunshine will never be as bright again because of that.

What do you think? Do you agree with my understanding and symbolism? I’d love to know!

Please use this [ link ] to the optional forum to start a discussion about the poem. Alternatively, you can use any of the email links from the contact [ page ].

There are spaces without written content on either side of the page. This is by design and to avoid me waffling instead of adding thought–out pieces of writing.

These spaces can also be used to rest your eyes between blocks of text and give you, the reader, time to process and analyze what has been said on the page so far.

Not everything needs to be jam–packed with writing and an opportunity to respond. Sometimes we need the quiet moments and empty spaces to reflect and prepare ourselves for what comes next.

This is a website for reflection and asking questions! What type of writer would I be if I made readers like you tired on purpose, just so you can finish sooner and miss the opportunity to think about what you have read?

Week Three:

Whittled Branches—2003. Age 14

The whittled branches sway in the wind,

As the wind blows,

The Dead leaves fall off,

Into the black pond of oblivion that determines the fate of the latter man.

This is the same pond that will draw your soul

To mingle with the man that was not chosen

To follow the example of a good person,

He therefore does good deeds to please everyone.

He is still however actually evil in nature,

And while he thinks of a way to kill you,

He stares into the sky and wonders

What it would have been like if he had not been chosen as a leper,

Cast out like an old rag.

The fate of the latter man is dependant on how deep the lake is,

And how the whittled branches sway in the wind

In order for them to lose their leaves,

And the black pond of oblivion relies on

Humanity to feed it human souls which have fallen into the lake of memories

And back into the world of depression and anger.

Analogy

The whittled branches sway in the wind,—

I wrote this poem while on holiday but it was winter (or the beginning of) and the wind was hectic.

As the wind blows,—

There were a lot of trees around the holiday hut and we could see and hear every branch and creak of the bark. It was very obvious that it was windy.

The Dead leaves fall off,—

I always write Death with a capital D, always have. Because of the wind, leaves fell to the ground often and it reminded me of Dead skin cells coming off our skin after a little friction.

Into the black pond of oblivion that determines the fate of the latter man.—

The skies were dark because of the clouds and there was a specific pond that looked really deep. I figure that if ‘oblivion’ was an object instead of a way of being, it would be in that pond.

This is the same pond that will draw your soul—

Again, I still believed in souls when I wrote this poem and I thought that if someone would fall into this pond, their soul would be ripped from them and they would come back to shore, empty.

To mingle with the man that was not chosen—

I can’t remember why I picked this specific phrase, but it may have been because I imagined a guy in the pond already, who chose to stay there after his soul was ripped from his body, to either warn people not to enter the pond, or pull them in so there could be more of the soul–less people in the pond.

To follow the example of a good person,—

Maybe the person in the pond was trying to warn others, based on this line. What makes him a good person, the fact that he teaches others about the dangers or that he chose to stay in the pond and forget his life beforehand to warn others?

He therefore does good deeds to please everyone.—

Doing good deeds to please everyone doesn’t mean this person is a good person, it means they want to be seen as a good person, which is very different from being a good person. Is the poet still speaking about the person in the pond or the person looking in?

He is still however actually evil in nature,—

How do we know someone is evil by nature? How does the other person in this scenario know the other is evil, and who is the ‘he’ in this sense? The pond person or the poet?

And while he thinks of a way to kill you,—

If the ‘he’ is the pond person, there isn’t much else he can do aside from drowning the poet, or using the river/pond debris as weapons, but the poet has fewer options. How can you kill something that you didn’t know existed, let alone underwater where movement changes and flows with the currents?

He stares into the sky and wonders—

This changes things: Looking into the sky from underwater distorts the image and the ricer/pond debris could affect their line of sight. It’s much easier for the poet to look into the sky and wonder about anything other than the distortion and potential debris.

What it would have been like if he had not been chosen as a leper,—

Is that why the pond person is in the pond, because he was a leper and cast out anyway, or is it the poet who came to the pond because he was cast aside and treated like a leper?

Cast out like an old rag.—

Old rags can be useful, depending on what you reuse them for, it’s up to the person to choose the rags' usefulness. In this context, an old rag won’t be able to wipe up the pond, but it could be used to dry the poet if the poet decides to test the pond and its depth.

The fate of the latter man is dependent on how deep the lake is,—

The latter man in this context is the poet, since he doesn’t know how deep the pond is, only the word ‘lake’ was used instead in this line. Was it always a lake and the poet was just confused about terminology, or does the pond seem bigger (like a lake) because of the pond person and the debris floating around?

And how the whittled branches sway in the wind—

Whittled branches in the wind sway without leaving a shadow on the ground because of where the light could be, but under water, this swaying is more obvious because the pond person can see which are branches and which is debris.

In order for them to lose their leaves,—

Them? Who is them? The branches, or the debris in the pond? Why do the leaves need to be lost, and who will notice when they are bare? Probably the pond person because he will have fewer sights to see on the surface.

And the black pond of oblivion relies on—

The pond is referred to as a pond again instead of a lake, but it gives the impression that it needs something to stay as a pond or as the home of the pond person.

Humanity to feed it human souls which have fallen into the lake of memories—

The word ‘humanity’ here is misleading because the poet doesn’t specify what classifies as humanity. Are all people part of humanity? What about the pond person, are they human, just with different abilities? The word ‘fallen’ gives a sense of acceptance since it's more common for people to fall in ponds, rather than be pulled in by a pond person, but if the ‘oblivion’ is a living thing instead of a concept, wouldn’t the pond want more people for oblivion to feed on? Also, feeding the pond with human souls implies that there are human souls around, they must just go to the pond to test their humanity.

And back into the world of depression and anger.—

The term ‘back to’ implies that this world of depression and anger have been visited before. Is this the pond itself, as oblivion can encompass depression and anger as easily as despair? In this case, the poet needs to return to the world of depression and anger (oblivion). The pond person is the poet, and the tug of war between the pond person trying to get the poet into the pond was actually the poet trying to rid himself of the oblivion that surrounds him, but he can’t escape. The currents are too strong.

What do you think? Do you agree with my understanding and symbolism? I’d love to know!

Please use this [ link ] to the optional forum to start a discussion about the poem. Alternatively, you can use any of the email links from the contact [ page ].

There are spaces without written content on either side of the page. This is by design and to avoid me waffling instead of adding thought–out pieces of writing.

These spaces can also be used to rest your eyes between blocks of text and give you, the reader, time to process and analyze what has been said on the page so far.

Not everything needs to be jam–packed with writing and an opportunity to respond. Sometimes we need the quiet moments and empty spaces to reflect and prepare ourselves for what comes next.

Week Four:

Falling—2004. Age 15

Falling into death,

No escape,

No light in their eyes,

No freedom,

No colours of the rainbow,

Only darkness.

I’m falling into a trap,

Help me.

Wait,

I see at tunnel.

Brilliant light in their eyes,

Freedom of thought,

All my favorite colours,

Lighting.

It is a happy trap of light.

I must help you.

Analogy

Falling into death,—

I’ve always seen Death as a location instead of a person/grim Reaper. I think it’s how I understood Death as a child: A place where my dead family members can’t escape from, instead of a person who keeps them there. As the first line of this poem, I think it sets the tone that this poem is going to be a different way to see Death and how we are affected by people who die.

No escape,—

There isn’t an escape from Death and in the context of the poem, there isn’t an escape from reading the poem and experiencing what the poet sees as Death or a reason to write about opposites (life and Death, light and dark, etc.). The reader has to sit through everything until it’s over, or leave and be left wondering how the poet’s story ended.

No light in their eyes,—

Whose eyes? The poet’s or the reader's eyes? And where is this light (or lack of) light coming from? Objects that fall (from the first line) generally don’t shine any light because the assumption is that the reader falls down, away from light.

No freedom,—

In this context, freedom can be anything: It can be the poet’s freedom of removing their earthly ideas and flesh because they died, or it can be the reader’s freedom of learning something new about themselves as they read the poem to the end. What will they find? Will they be free of expectations if they understand their role as the reader, to bring the poet’s words to life? Since there is “no freedom”, is it fully realizing the poet’s intentions as possible?

No colours of the rainbow,—

There is a rainbow but the poem doesn’t specify if this is a rainbow based on reality or in the poet's head, where the rainbow can have different colors compared to how light reacts on Earth (hence the colors from the rainbow). In a way, a rainbow without colors isn’t a rainbow at all, or are there no colors in the rainbow because the colors don’t have the freedom to shine if they aren’t the usual rainbow colors?

Only darkness.—

This darkness has two origins: Darkness as in the lack of light shining because there aren’t any rainbows, or there could be a darkness because most associate Death and darkness. This line is a telling sign of the nature of the poem: Is it a poem about light and dark (opportunities for rainbows and darker shades of the rainbow colors), or Death and life (the Death of the poet so they could experience Death in a metaphorical sense, or the Death of the reader after they realized they needed help and didn’t get it?

I’m falling into a trap,—

Who is “I”? The poet, the reader, or the poem itself? Do you think this changes who can offer help (the next line) or who is susceptible to falling into a trap? Can words themselves become trapped until the right person finds them?

Help me.—

I don’t know who “me” is in this line, it could be the poet or the reader themselves, but what do ‘they’ need help from? Death, or the trap that was set up by the darkness in the previous line. Why is Death something to be feared in this context?

Wait,—

In this context, the person who needs to wait is probably the reader because they have to wait for the end of the poem to find out why they were falling (to their death) and how the poet or the poem itself would help them get out where they can make sure they won’t fall into death and be surrounded by darkness. The darkness in this example could be caused by different forms of light compared to the more traditional forms (light and white hues) because of how the other rainbows are formed. If the rainbows the reader sees aren’t made in the normal way, there is no telling what the new rainbows look like.

I see a tunnel.—

The poet doesn’t specify where the tunnel is, and it could be a metaphorical one. For now, let’s assume that it’s a physical tunnel and the reader can see it. Rainbows don’t work in (most) tunnels, particularly man–made tunnels, and most tunnels are quite dark unless they have artificial lighting. Nothing in the poem so far gives the impression that electricity exists in this world, so falling down a tunnel if the reader doesn’t know where to step is very possible. The question is: How far will the reader fall?

Brilliant light in their eyes,—

The poet doesn’t specify who “they” are, but since a poem can’t have eyes (unless the words draw one on the page), the intended target is the reader as the “they”. Who is shining this bright light? Since the poem itself can’t see and won’t react or know how to hold a light, the person shining the light is most likely the poet themselves. The line is misleading, though, because a brilliant light is usually only brilliant if you experience it yourself, otherwise, it may not be as brilliant because a different word could be used in place of ‘brilliant’, like ‘magnificent’, ‘bright’, and so on. The brilliant light in “their” eyes could be the light in the reader's eyes after the poet shone the light into their eyes, seeing the brilliance and reflection in the reader's eyes first hand.

Freedom of thought,—

Freedom of thought is a prerequisite when it comes to poetry. To understand poetry, the reader needs to follow the lyrical story on the page without changing or trying to fix what they feel the poet did incorrectly. For the reader to have freedom of thought, they need to understand why they have freedom of thought in the first place, and they aren’t just forced to follow the thought process of those around them. For the poet, this is a different story. The poet doesn’t have freedom of thought once the last line of the poem is written because their freedom of thought is linked to the lines: Once the lines have been written, the freedom of these words leaves the poet and is given to the reader to analyse the poem how they see fit. In the context of the poem itself and the first line, there is little freedom of thought for the reader in the long run because if they ‘fall into Death’, they lose their free will and freedom of thought because you can’t be free from Death.

All my favorite colors,—

In this context, is ‘my’ the poet, the poem, or the reader? The concept of colors is also a new topic because colors haven’t been mentioned before. There could be an exception: If the poet views ‘light’ and ‘dark’ as colors instead of shades, their favorite colors could include dark/black or the colors of a rainbow that they created from the beginning of the poem (not a traditional rainbow). Would the poets' favorite colors include dark colors that they used earlier or light colors from a traditional rainbow, since the traditional rainbow was used to create their own rainbow? Do you think the poet knows what their favorite colors are, or do they think their favorite colors are dark/black because the only other option is light/white?

Lighting.—

This answers the question from above with ‘light’ as the poet’s favorite color, although earlier on in the poem, the poet stated they like dark and black. Could the ‘my’ be the reader instead with this context? If the reader prefers lighter colors, does their freedom of thought decrease since they will only focus on lighter colors, leaving the dark colors to the poet and poem itself? Could this be a play on words for the word ‘lightning’ since lightning is almost pure light and white simultaneously? In this case, the reader could ask the lightning to strike at the tunnel to eliminate the darkness and Death in their world since not thinking about “what could it be?” is a much safer option when considering who could help the reader and how the reader can escape the trap (of darkness that the poet set).

It is a happy trap of light.—

Happiness and light colors are usually synonymous, but happiness isn’t usually associated with a trap or negativity. The poem is quite specific about this: The trap is made from light, but if the poet themselves focus on the dark colors, are they setting the trap for the reader or is it the poem itself that sets the trap for the reader? The question is: How could light entrap someone? Light is usually everywhere, so for it to be a trap, the poet and the poem need to go to an area with decreased levels of light, like the tunnel. If the tunnel were metaphorical, the reader would have to step out of the light in their own consciousness to free themselves of the trap. The minute they do this, the poem and poet have won.

I must help you.—

The “I” in this context is most likely the poem itself because it sets the tone until the end, and it also gives the reader a false sense of security with the lines “Wait, I see a tunnel.” On the surface, this could be seen as a positive encouragement because a tunnel to leave an uncomfortable situation has a positive effect on the reader, but the reader didn’t know that it was the poem itself that was setting a trap. These final lines are quite ominous because ‘helping’ can be for the poem’s perspective alone, and the obligation (must) creates a sense of duty to the context of the poem itself, since it's only the poem that knows what fate lies ahead for the reader. The poem must help the reader fall into darkness, saving them from the trap of light they could set off if they are not careful.

What do you think? Do you agree with my understanding and symbolism? I’d love to know!

Please use this [ link ] to the optional forum to start a discussion about the poem. Alternatively, you can use any of the email links from the contact [ page ].

Thank you for your interest in Write Remedy: Vial Blossoms where curiosity is key, and everything else falls into place.

Poetry Through the Ages for July

Week One:

Week Two:

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Thank you for your interest in Write Remedy: Vial Blossoms where curiosity is key, and everything else falls into place.