Historical - Persona Poems

Historical

Poems in this series are tied to
historical facts and/or speak
from "the imaginary"
first person.


The Tale of Two Sisters

Ix'iloom (esh-ee-loám), the one who sees,
......gazes upon her sister Ixkeem, the weaver,
......admiring her beauty.
Both are fair to look upon,
......their skulls elongated
......from the ritualistic shaping.
Their parents, wanting to honor
......the First Father, Hun Nal Ye (the Maize God),
......and to increase their beauty,
......had strapped, as tradition demanded,
......two boards tightly to their skulls
......for their first three years.
Though the pain had been great,
......they had learned
......that sacrifice was necessary
......for the survival of the People.
As befitting their birth into the ruling class,
......both of their lives had been pampered,
......partaking of bounteous
......riches and blessings.

As they grew, the two became more comely,
......raising passion within men.
The wealth of their family
......increased their desirability.
Seventeen growing seasons
......had passed for the oldest,
......while only sixteen for Ix'iloom.
Ixkeem is betrothed
.....to the hunter B'alaam, “The Jaguar."

The many gods,
......counted on thirty-eight sets of hands,
......had blessed the land,
......until two seasons ago.
The rains increased and
.the milpa rotted.
Without their fields of corn the people will die,
......both spiritually and physically.
They, the very children of the gods,
......surely have committed a wrong.
Why else would the blessed maize be cursed?

The astrologers, peering deep into the sky,
......understanding what must be done,
......came forward with the decree.
The call went out to the cities and villages,
......first, to the priests and then the citizens.

Tears well in the sisters’ eyes.
......as the Quetzal-feathered priests
......lead them down
......the winding stairwell,
......the blue-green costumes contrasting sharply
......with their near nakedness.
In the final room of this last walk,
......magnificent bowls honor them
......and the history of their people.
Only for a moment, Ixkeem wants to dash,
......to live, to marry and raise a family;
......but these are no longer honorable choices.
Their fate is sealed,
......accepting that they will soon be
......welcomed by their ancestors
......into Xibalbá (shee bal bah).


The shovel carefully breaks through the soil
......revealing an opening.
As the debris is cautiously removed,
......the anthropologists shine light
......into the darkness.
It passes over the intact bowls and the bones.
Excitement overwhelms them
......as word spreads around the dig
......of this great discovery.
Later, the story in
......the New York Times edition reads,
......Maya Tomb Tells Tale of Two Women,
......Elite but Doomed
.

Comments: Yes, this poem is based on the July 14, 2005 NYT article mentioned at the end of the poem. The authentic names and content of the poem come from my historical research regarding the Mayans. Obviously, the specific circumstances of actual events are the result of poetical license. Here is additional information about this fascinating civilization. The Maya originated around 2600 B.C. and rose to prominence around A.D. 250 in present-day Mexico, Guatemala, Belize, Honduras and El Salvador. Inheriting the inventions and ideas of earlier civilizations, the Maya developed astronomy, calendrical systems, hieroglyphic writing, ceremonial architecture, and masonry without metal tools. Maya civilization started to decline around A.D. 900, although some peripheral centers continued to thrive until the Spanish conquest in the early sixteenth century.


Billy Budd

I stare, poised, harpoon waiting
.....for the monster to breach.
It is huge!
A giant like I have never seen before.
Damn Ahab, and his cursed fury
.....against this white leviathan!

What am I doing here!
My two boys back home,
.....will they ever learn
.....of what happened to their father?
They barely know me.
My life has been the sea.

Oh God, I seldom pray,
.....but death may come this day.
Please! Please! Let my aim be true.

By god, we almost went over,
.....these waves endless,
.....this boat so small.

What is that I see in my men’s eyes?
Fear? No, terror.
I must calm them.

“Come on boys, he’s just another one!
We killed many before.
Think of the money.”

Oh God, here he comes! Protect me!

Comments: The above is an example of a persona poem. This style of poem allows the poet to use imaginary or real characters and create descriptive dialogue and actions. In this poem, I combine characters from two of Herman Melville's classics, the white nemesis and Captain Ahab from Moby Dick and the Christ-like figure from Billy Budd. They come together in this struggle of man against beast. In the poem Billy Budd does not have his characteristic stutter, though in real life with the whale surfacing, it probably would have been there. I will present additional persona poems in the future.

Let my people go...

Sometimes a visit cuts to the core.
A look back into time,
......a reflection,
......makes one aware that not all was good.
A dark time in our history,
......crowned cotton as king,
......the throne built upon the backs of slaves.
The residues still taint us today.

Wandering the modern corridors,
......faint ghostly cries are heard
......of lives torn apart by a system of evil.
But the displays also bear witness to the best
......where the strong and true
......stood against tyranny.

One asks in disgust,
......“How could the sale of humans
......existed in the Land of the Free?”
One word, MONEY, tells the story.

We need not look far
......to witness the greed
......that feeds wars and oppression.
Will modern abolitionists rise up
......and take on the fight
......that pits the haves and have nots
......against one another
......while the robber-barons collect their gold?

Or is it too late to change the course
......that has been set?
The shackles and chains of slavery
......did not easily fall?
Only when men and women
......became too disgusted
......with the human conditions they saw
......did they rise up and heed the spiritual cry,
“Let my people go!”

Can you hear it today,
......in the cries of the poor,
......in many languages,
......in the young and old?
Listen, for they are there.
The din grows louder with the passing days.
Listen.  Listen!

Pictures taken at the Freedom Center

.....Recommendation
..................The National Underground Railroad
.............................................Freedom Center – Cincinnati, OH

  1. The National Underground Railroad Freedom Center – Cincinnati, Ohio: "Wow!" summarized my feelings following 2 1/2 hours spent at the Center. This brand new multistory building in the heart of downtown Cincinnati is a must see. Even if you do not enjoy museums, I believe you will be fascinated by this complex mix of history, modern media, and high tech design. Not only will you become more educated about this dark period in American history, but you will be deeply moved by the heroism, the stories, and the perseverance exemplified by early African Americans and those who stood up to evil. To visit the web site, go to
  2. http://www.freedomcenter.org
Life (Peace) Historical And more Graduate Observation Reminiscence