Author's Note: I wrote this poem modeling William
Butler-Yeats style in the poem "The Second Coming". I wanted to keep
the focus of it close to what the focus of his original poem was to
model is his style even better. Since his was on the second coming of Jesus I
decided to do mine on the first coming. Yeats used a lot of symbolism from the
Bible, so I tried to do the same thing with mine. In my poem, much like
Yeats', I made it from the perspective of the people and what they
were thinking during that time period.
The
First Coming
Roaming and roaming
the dessert land
The Sheppard came
back for his sheep;
The people cannot
see; the world won't accept;
A love never seen
before hung upon a tree,
The burnt, the
fellowship, and the grain,
Covered, and the law
torn apart,
The rich in spirit
are not sought out, while the lowliest
Are hand picked with
precision.
This can't be what
we've waited for,
This can't be the
Savior who's arrived,
The
Savior! My soul is overcome
When a vision from
the Spirit
Blurs my conscious:
far beyond the entrance to the city,
A colt untied from
his owner,
With healing hands
and majestic little feet,
Prances along a
cloth road, as palms
Wave throughout the
air, hailing to the king.
The town trembles in
fear; now knowing that those years
Of prophecies has
prepared us for yet another
Vast amount of
silence and trouble,
But the Sheppard,
finally coming around,
Takes up his own
cross to leave us again?
The
Second Coming
By
William Butler-Yeats
Turning and turning
in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot
hear the falconer;
Things fall apart;
the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is
loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed
tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of
innocence is drowned;
The best lack all
conviction, while the worst
Are full of
passionate intensity.
Surely some
revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second
Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming!
Hardly are those words out
When a vast image
out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight:
somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion
body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and
pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow
thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the
indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops
again; but now I know
That twenty
centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to
nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough
beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards
Bethlehem to be born?
Excellent! Your crafting of a parallel poem displays not only an understanding of the original which is by itself admirable, but goes on to show the depth of understanding and your ability to use language at an advanced level. The way you selected the words and images to convey a complimentary message is really exemplary. Excellent work.
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