After Some Lines in Keats’ Lamia
How poets must be mad to trace the line
Of woman, whomsoever holds their liking,
To faeries’ influence, wishes o’er wine,
Or beauties gods spawned, mothers just as striking.
They sip the stuff of dreams, if dreams are dark
Which nature folds on mysteries she keeps:
The deep that rises, stars with oldest spark
Still shining bright, or clouds in covering sweeps.
Could hidden be, beneath these gliding phases,
A woman real, not wooed or won by verses,
But through a virtue like to Mary faces
The tempting thread, unfallen to its curses?
She, as an Eve led from her appetite,
Is sweeter than a myth that forges fright.
A Natural Process
There’s something beautiful beneath the crust,
A thing that’s dark to move into the light
After the earth, in parts, does push and thrust
Revealing fraction of the Lord’s own might.
A good design has brought a world from dark
When chaos chaos wrought and shape was not;
The Word was spoke into the vast and stark
Of primordial space, and beauty shot
Across its newfound frame. And it was good,
Inflicting very pattern that He made
To stars in palm from depths where shards withstood,
Born again with brilliance displayed.
I speak of diamonds, cut by greater pressure,
And spirit, suffering so for better measure.
Ryan P. Tunison is a poet devoted to the investigation of traditional versification, and the perfection of his craft. He holds a Bachelor of Arts in English Literature from Caldwell University, where he worked as editor for the campus literary magazine, Calyx. His poetry has appeared in Snapdragon: A Journal of Art & Healing, The Minison Project, and Grand Little Things.
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