Skip to Main Content
2015-08-05 11:29 am (UTC)
I really love the poem, and just as much, I love what you say here, which, though it's prose, is so powerful and so beautifully expressed that it has the effect of poetry.
Their lure is the storyteller's: they know the truth of things ... The deceased is never unknown to them: they know all our life stories. They know what really happened. They tell the dead true.
[They] will tell you the story of the world until you die of it.
--They're like a heroin-strong (and heroin-deadly) dose of Songs of Experience, then. By train of thought, I'm reminded of Dallben aging in a night after reading The Book of Three.
You say here that you imagine the bronze siren as offering you a choice between the panpipes (which to me look a bit like a small book or even a piece of bread, though I know ancients didn't have bread in this shape) and the pomegranate, but in your poem I get the sense that the listener is being pressed to take both. As a choice, what do you see it as being between? I understand the pomegranate as death and (from your poem) relief, but what do the pipes offer?
ETA: Never mind: I see it now, rereading: story, through song. (I am slow sometimes)
Reply to this
Thread from start
Post a comment in response:
This account has disabled anonymous posting.
You can comment on this post while signed in with an account from many other sites, once you have confirmed your email address.
Sign in using OpenID
If you don't have an account you can
create one now
HTML doesn't work in the subject.
Check spelling during preview
This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.
Log in with OpenID?
Forget your password?
Site and Journal Search
Buy Dreamwidth Services
Gift a Random User
Site and Account