Eyes of Emotion. Winter/Spring 1997.

______________


One moment before darkness transforms into dawn,
A shadowy figure steals silently across the silken lawn.
With eyes of sadness and eyes of fear,
Eyes searching everywhere, for a hope so dear.

As morning brightens the once darkened skies,
The running figure jumps, then flies.
With eyes of cheeriness, eyes wide and bright,
Eyes beholding the beautiful sunlight.

At the middle of the day, at the time of noon,
The figure slows and hovers, preparing to land soon.
With eyes that show no tire, eyes that show pride,
Eyes that are arrogant, eyes that are tried.

At evening, when the day draws to a close,
The figure falls and lands, remembering its previous woes.
With eyes that show anger, eyes that show hate,
Eyes that want revenge, yet eyes that can wait.

As night creeps near, and the shadows grow tall,
The figure sleeps, yet the eyes do not form a wall.
With eyes that are tired, yet eyes that stay strong,
Eyes that remember, eyes that aren't wrong.

Devon. Fall/Winter 2000.

______________________


Dreaming, desiring to be with you,
Pleading for solace for my heart's void,
I wish for your company, for I truly know
That your touch alone can bring me comfort.

Every day, every night away from you,
My heart constricts, threatens to leave me.
My sanity is fleeting, my heart is taking over,
For I know thoughts of you are foremost above.

Vast this void seems, emptiness unsurpassable,
I wish for you to fill it, to be here with me.
I desire to look deeply into, your crystalline eyes
And listen to the music of your tranquil voice.

On this empty day, my dreary spirit grows heavy,
As I know we still have time we must wait
Until we are allowed to meet, to accompany
One another, in happy existence together.

Nightly I wonder, daily I dream,
Of the time that is endless, it seems.
I can not wait for the time to finally come
When I can be with you, and can be happy once again.

Free writing. 6 April 2001.
_____________________


heart life end think more why clock time like beauty no more know why unhappy dream poet happy dreams need know love like embrace heart why no door closed too much terror why come no more hate why door life no more so much hate like love why life no more hate seem dream raven crow blue color sky night black area number why sleep dream want more so much do more write more sing listen I say more why no I need life like see no more why I want life you like hair face eyes love eyes time no more want like need happy so much exact why wrist hurt need writing stop but no why no know too much why see listen sing me want why too much why see more closed door no enter stop dream eat less sleep like more dream stop why need more why listen more hair no more why like less need no more see why know now eye see you want more like stop writing

Three fragments. Spring 2001.
__________________________

Life's last solace from unholy rantings
Walking through darkness, blind, unseeing
Why do I know the way, why in this place
Emptiness, desolate, barren of dreaming

Immolation, fleeting fancies,
Life's enjoyment, flying beings
Wakeful hearts, awake and dreaming
Our last shadow of life's embrace.

Endless ransoms of love's last dreams
Thoughts unending, terror's come
Rampant fighting, here and there
Life unyielding, end is come.

Free writing, Spring 2001.
______________________

Endlessly congregating sleeping empty door why crows soundless keeping castle why life enjoys sleeping loud hurt why heart beating stop enjoy life too much fast why needing more pain amulet darkness too much pain why life is stuff hurting arm tired sleep more walk door clouded brains walk more why sleep too much food rice life empty meaning door reckless dreaming stop writing floor pain wrist life why too much sleep art write more sing la why I like sing more too much thoughts psychology meaning test mannequin hurt wrist stop writing too much jumbled poem write more blink hurt why sleep more hamlet soliloquy to be why no more why door open enter itch so much thoughts time think more more write I whilst seeing hurt breathing ouch stop writing now I stop writing

Five fragments, Spring 2001.
____________________________

Alone in this world of lonely souls.
Vacant stares within empty shells.
Light's fires finally quenched.
By apathy's final throes.
___________________________________________________________


One final draught to quench this flame
Growing, burning, consuming mine heart
One last note of love's refrain
Before, at last, we must depart.
___________________________________________________________


Whispered yearnings of assembled dreams
Flights of unspoken fancy's wings
Hearts trembling imperceptibly
In sweet, intoxicating agony.
___________________________________________________________


Too oft I dream of starlet fancies
Moondrops trickling down glittering falls
Life's wondered merriment in sparkling dreams
Until we learn we've squandered it all.
___________________________________________________________


Perfumed vapours wafting scent,
Scarlet waves of discontent.
Lettered servants of squandered life.
Lovely airs of wondered strife.

Free writing, 19 April 2002.
_________________________

Love end die try sleep cry cereal joy job hobby end cry life a sock ride try hi what how good moral tiger night day try hi good cry tear hope dream slow ethereal shame share life joy friend real not how side west jump how live cry real strife bog chafe dream to her hello how arm remember memory book find live clock time fight no more good try sleep tired go real fly hell live seem bye end kill I heart you real no bye.

Stanza, 21 April 2002.
____________________

Dreams of innocence and songs of sorrow
Filled with truthful beauty and lordlike charms,
Hearts led to darkness and minds to resting
Love to yearning and hate to borrowed sleep.
Fissures of words crawl aimlessly forward
Whilst ignorance cries for motherly care.
Gems glittering with reflected darkness
Jewels dripping with solitary tears.

'Love', 29 October, 2000.
_______________________

Love is a veritable chasm of life's intent, that when looked into, seems to follow dark and empty roads, leading slowly into oblivion, yet when those same paths are traversed, it seems as if paradise has finally been glimpsed, that the sun's rays indeed shine on the soul, intensely purifying any wrongs in the world.

Love is generally portrayed as an unseen, uncontrollable attraction between two parties, as in Coleridge's "Love," or as a being who stimulates this irrepressible emotion for entertainment, as the Greek Eros or Roman Cupid. Too often is love mistaken with lust, passion, romantic entanglements, and
infatuation, and unjust things are done to promote the base natures of humanity's carnal being. Nothing done in the name of true love can ever come to evil, and that love, in the purest sense, can never be flawed, but is made of the whitest silken strains ever imagined.

True love can be defined as an ultimate feeling of kindness and goodness, of benefice towards a fellow human being, and when speaking of a romantic involvement, this true love can be tinged with the sweet vapours of romance and flavours of passion. Too often are romance and passion the basis of a relationship, which falls short of all expectations; when the initial excitement seems over, and the physical and mental stimulation grows dull and lacks vigor, it seems that love has lost itself, to be regained by another fancy. If such a relationship would have instead been based on love, laced with other entrancing delicacies such as romance and passion, then every day would dawn a new delight, a new reason to live life in the other's arms, to hold the loved one close to one's self for all eternity.

It seems that no matter what the barriers, love, the most complex, complicated, compelling of life's mysteries, strikes randomly, with an occurrence likened to a mischievous child. Is love born instantly or does the sweet fruit grow slowly from the seed of circumstance? Does each person have one soul mate on this planet, or is love merely a process to help humans cope with the surrounding environs? Can love be based scientifically or is it merely a random event, a plaything of an unknown deity? Can love be defined, or is it different for every single person?

Love at first sight is an arguable topic; can man truly succumb to the strongest of emotions so easily, by a mere glimpse of a beauteous face, or is this a false conception, straining the delicate balance of love, lust, and infatuation? When a man is stricken by the presence of a sacred being within his every waking thought, in every perfumed scent, in his heart, stealing what mental faculties are at his disposal, he has bowed to the power of infatuation, not the spirit of true love. Love is stronger, and one can truly know his love when he is willing to give everything to the one he holds dearest, including his love, his happiness. True love contains a willingness to forgo any possible relationship for the object of desire; if the happiness that person will possess with another is stronger. This is the hardest decision to make when in love; is it right to pursue the loved, or allow her to follow her dreams, her desires?

Love can sometimes be unrequited, in which case a terrible grievance occurs, as the initial love, if not true, can be blemished, and evil can indeed occur, as the Phantom of the Opera learns to his heart's true discomfiture when his character finally realizes that the only way he can express his love is to allow Christine Daaé to fulfill her life with Raoul, le Vicomte de Chagny. It is a grave error in Fate's hands when such a marvelous ideal, such a brilliant emotion as love can not be seen, can not be understood, can not be fulfilled.

Love is an emotion that has yet to be explained sufficiently by any being upon this earth. An intangible idea, a misunderstood principle, upon whose basis should rest any solid relationship, any association. If today's world possessed Love, crimes would cease, and Happiness would roam freely throughout the land; but, alas, Perfection hesitates to enter this realm, and so only a fleeting glimpse of Paradise may be seen, only a small few may live in its comfort, in its favorite emotion... love.

'English The Evolving Monster: The Changing Role of Fear in Nineteenth-Century Literature,' 16 April, 2002.
_______________________________

In nineteenth-century British literary tradition, an evolution of thought occurred, a changing of sociological, moral, and religious ideals, and rather drastically, the Romantic thought was finally replaced by the Victorian era, as large in influence and cultural enrichment as its predecessor. This literary evolution encompassed the entire field of written work, including the genres inspired by the Gothic tradition of the eighteenth-century: namely, the horror genre. The two works inspired by that fateful storytelling night at Villa Diodati, Mary Shelley’s “hideous progeny,” Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus, and Dr. John Polidori’s The Vampyre, initially wrongly attributed to Lord Byron, who had inspired the work, are attributed to the second generation of Gothic works. Two works of Victorian origin, Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and the grand Dracula, by Bram Stoker, continued the tradition in another era of thought, of increased scientific discovery, of different ideals. All four works put forth a prominent figure, a “monster,” as a means of furthering the goal of fright, of terror, and capitalize upon the beauty, the climactic effect attributed to the genre.

The Gothic genre was first introduced by Horace Walpole, in his Gothic Romance, The Castle of Otranto. Characterized by a situation involving a medieval castle, dark, brooding atmospheric qualities, a dark villain, and a young gentleman (of noble birth) saving the virtuous maiden in distress, the Gothic genre was developed through several works from Walpole’s The Castle of Otranto, Ann Ward Radcliffe’s The Mysteries of Udulpho, Matthew G. Lewis’s The Monk, among other works, and the final work of the first generation of gothic fiction, C. R. Maturin's Melmoth the Wanderer in 1820, the genre substantiated itself as an influence in the minds of nineteenth-century British authors.

The monstrous villains of these several works all had one major flaw that slowly became evident: they were all human. It wouldn’t be until the turn of the nineteenth-century that the human villains would be replaced by vampires, from Coleridge’s “Christabel” and Johann Ludwig Tieck’s Wake Not the Dead; yet, it wouldn’t be until that fateful ghost-story-telling session of that small group of prominent friends that the horror genre, with its truly monstrous villains, would take off. However, why monsters, and why now? Perhaps the larger available contrast between heroic virtue and monstrous evil; perhaps the larger range of evil allowed; or perhaps, the use of the monster is merely to show the monstrous qualities if the human characters. However, it is quite evident that the use of the monster capitalized the ability to use fear as a means of provoking a message in the hearts of the audience.

Several aspects of fear present in the Gothic and horror genres are prominently displayed in the character of the villain, sometimes in the form of a monster. Several of the aspects of fear present in the monsters deal with their appearance in their respective works; others are due to the actions. I shall attempt in the following pages to prove the evolution of thought from Romantic to Victorian eras based on the following substantiations: the manifestation of evil of the creatures; their appearance, and the basis of disgust; the methods by which the monsters commit atrocities, and what actions they perform; finally, how the monsters choose their victims, or are otherwise driven to commit immoral acts.
The physical appearance of these creatures is in large part the method by which the fear is manifested within the literature of the nineteenth-century. This is quite evident in Shelley’s Frankenstein in Victor’s reaction to his now-living creation:
--
How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or how delineate the wretch whom with such infinite pains and care I had endeavoured to form? His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful! – Great God! His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun white sockets in which they were set, his shrivelled complexion and straight black lips. (Wolf 85)
--
The creature is shown as perfect in the technical sense, however, the malformation of the skin and especially the eyes are windows of intense ugliness; an ugliness that inspires automatic revulsion towards the creature.

Another figure of the Romantic monster tradition, Lord Ruthven, is describes in the following:
--
Those who felt this sensation of awe, could not explain whence it arose: some attributed it to the dead grey eye, which, fixing upon the object's face, did not seem to penetrate, and at one glance to pierce through to the inward workings of the heart; but fell upon the cheek with a leaden ray that weighed upon the skin it could not pass. (Polidori)
--
In hindsight, this description plainly shows Lord Ruthven to be an undead creature: dead, yet walking. However, a fascination lingers around his character, and he is accepted into the society.
These two figures, the Frankenstein monster, and the vampire, Lord Ruthven, are described as having hideous characteristics; a plain revulsion towards their appearance is easily evidenced, in particular, to their eyes. Denise Gigante cites Edmund Burke in her contrast between the eyes of the Frankenstein monster and eyes that may be termed beautiful:
--
Yellow, watery, and dun, the Creature’s eyes are antithetical to the beautiful eye that Burke claims has ‘so great a share in the beauty of the natural creation’ (E, 118). In the section directly before ‘UGLINESS,’ entitled ‘The EYE,’ he writes: ‘I think then, that the beauty of the eye consists, first, in its clearness;… none are pleased with an eye, whose water (to use that term) is dull and muddy. We are pleased with the eye in this view; on the principle upon which we like diamonds, clear water, glass, and such like transparent substances’ (E, 118). (571)
--
This description of what consists of beauty of the eyes is in direct contrast to the description of the two monsters. The basically superficial quality of the eyes is viewed in the two Romantic works as a means by which the soul is mirrored; an ugly soul can not be seen through the opaqueness of the creatures’ ugly eyes, whereas a beautiful soul would shine through the eyes. This Romantic view, that beauty, or lack thereof, precedes the necessity of the monsters’ actions is quite evident.
This precession necessitates the actions of the monsters; “The monster knows that he is a monstrosity, but he tries to justify his evil manner by attributing his warped mental state to his deformities” (Rayment):
--
I am malicious because I am miserable. Am I not shunned and hated by all mankind? You, my creator, would tear me to pieces and triumph; remember that and tell me why I should pity man more than he pities me? ... I will revenge my injuries; if I cannot inspire love, I will cause fear, and chiefly towards you my archenemy, because my creator, do I swear inextinguishable hatred.
(Wolf 195-196)
--
Physical deformity is a definite precession to the monsters’ malign behavior in the Romantic era; the vampire is evil due to its need to feed, to sustain its artificial life; the Creature’s evil actions are necessitated by the societal repulsion displayed towards him.
The monsters of the Victorian era have a much more involved relationship between their evil actions and their physiognomy. Mr. Hyde is first introduced as thus:
--
He is not easy to describe. There is something wrong with his appearance; something displeasing, something downright detestable. I never saw a man I so disliked, and yet I scarce know why. He must be deformed somewhere; he gives a strong feeling of deformity, although I couldn’t specify the point. He’s an extraordinary looking man, and yet I really can name nothing out of the way. No, sir; I can make no hand of it; I can’t describe him. And it’s not want of memory; for I declare I can see him this moment. (Stevenson 5)
--
Dracula’s first description:
--
His face was a strong, a very strong, aquiline, with high bridge of the thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils, with lofty domed forehead, and hair growing scantily round the temples but profusely elsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive, almost meeting over the nose, and with bushy hair that seemed to curl in its own profusion. The mouth, so far as I could see it under the heavy moustache, was fixed and rather cruel-looking, with peculiarly sharp white teeth. These protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed astonishing vitality in a man of his years. For the rest, his ears were pale, and at the tops extremely pointed. The chin was broad and strong, and the cheeks firm though thin. The general effect was one of extraordinary pallor. (Stoker, Ch. II)
--
Neither of these two descriptions leaves an impression of total disgust with the reader; the observer is rendered with a dark sensation of strangeness, a devious peculiarity of character (which may or may not be attributed to an obsession with physiognomy: the pseudo-science by which character traits are gleaned based on facial construction). This lesser fear of physical appearance paves the way for more devilish actions on the parts of the monsters.

This primary difference between Romantic and Victorian monstrosity lies in the changing definition of the monster. The Romantic monsters are monstrous in their very existence:
--
“As Michel Foucault reminded us in his discussion of the public performances put on by the inmates of lunatic asylums until the early nineteenth century, a ‘monster ‘ is something or someone to be shown. In a world created by a reasonable God, the freak or lunatic must have a purpose: to reveal visibly the results of vice, folly, and unreason, as a warning to erring humanity. (Baldick 10)
--
However, the automatic monstrous quality of the Frankenstein’s horrid looks and Lord Ruthven’s unholy need for human blood is not paralleled in the two Victorian monsters. Mr. Hyde’s evil nature is not because of his physicality; it is due to an intrinsic moral quality that is mirrored by his appearance. Likewise, the qualities that cause Dracula to be feared are not his animalistic need for blood, but the systematic formation of London as a feeding ground. Similarly, these two Victorian monsters’ immoral qualities are directly shown by their sexual nature, which can be seen as a rebellion towards socially acceptable norms.

This sexuality of the Victorian monsters is clearly shown by the creation of Mr. Hyde as a vehicle by which Dr. Jekyll’s carnal passions might be observed, without harming the reputation of the good doctor. In Dracula, this sexuality is quite evident in the intensely erotic ménage a trois of the twenty-first chapter, in which Dracula, in a fit of “devilish passion,” a fit of bloodlust, is seen in his element of full monstrosity. Dracula also has the ability to seduce with ease. Dracula is “the man whom all other men fear, the man who can, without any loss of freedom or power himself, seduce other men’s women and make them sexually insatiable with a performance, that the others cannot match” (Weissman 76).

Similarly, this fear of Dracula’s creation, his corruption, the “new woman” is easily shown by the sexuality exuding from the three vampiresses that visit Jonathan Harker in Dracula’s mansion:
--
There was something about them that made me uneasy, some longing and at the same time some deadly fear. I felt…a wicked, burning desire that they would kiss me with those red lips…. I lay quiet, looking out under my eyelashes in an agony of delightful anticipation…till I could feel the movement of her breath upon me. Sweet it was in one sense, honey sweet…but with a bitter underlying the sweet, a bitter offensiveness…. There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive…. I closed my eyes in a languorous ecstasy and waited – waited with beating heart. (Stoker, Ch. III)
--
“This brief scene focuses on the reversal of sexual roles, a characteristic frequently associated with the New Woman The women do not harm him, but their aggression, voluptuous behavior cause Harker to conclude that they are monsters, not women” (Senf 65).

This revelation of the method by which the monsters are portrayed as physical entities and as evil creatures easily displays the translation of horror from the thought of the Romantics to that of the Victorians. The Romantic portrayal of monster as monstrous in its very essence, evil actions being expressed amorally, as opposed to the Victorian immoral creature is quite evidently a major transformation. This transformation has seemingly continued to the present, where now it seems a mixture of Romantic and Victorian beliefs has produced the idea that monsters are inherently evil; the monsters’ evil natures are of due to their very essence, yet manifest as immoral actions. The sexual nature of the Victorian monsters can easily be explained away due to the restrictive moral sensibilities of society; beneath the surface, sexual immorality was as prevalent as in the Romantic era, yet better clothed in obscurity.

This transformation of thought, this display of fictional monstrous creations, is at the very basic level due to a transformation of belief of the role of humanity in the social arena. Monsters were created as a means to express human qualities in superhuman models, and shall always remain, at root, human creatures.
--

Works Cited
Baldick, Chris. In Frankenstein’s Shadow: Myth, Monstrosity, and Nineteenth-century
Writing. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1987.
Gigante, Denise. “Facing the Ugly: The Case of Frankenstein.” ELH, Summer 2000, Vol.
67 Issue 2, p565, 23p
Polidori, John. “The Vampyre.” Literature of the Fantastic. 25 May 2002
.
Rayment, Tabatha Louise. “The Terror Within: a Psychoanalytical Exploration of
Victorian Gothic Horror.” 14 April 2002 .
Senf, Carol. The Vampire in Nineteenth-Century English Literature. Bowling Green
State Popular Press, 1988.
Stevenson, Robert Louis. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. New York:
Dover, 1991.
Stoker, Bram. Dracula. Online Literature Library. 15 April 2002
.
Weissman, Judith. “Women and Vampires: Dracula as a Victorian Novel.” Dracula: The
Vampire and the Critics. Ed. Margaret L. Carter. Ann Arbor: UMI Research
Press, 1988. 69-78.
Wolf, Leonard, ed. The Essential Frankenstein. New York: Penguin Group, 1993.
___________________________________________________________

Professor's remarks on some of the previous poetry.
________________________________

Vinny,

Thanks for letting me read your poems. I enjoyed them very much.

Have you read much Blake? I don't know his work as well as I should, but I see echoes of his Songs of Innocence/Songs of Experience in your writing. Perhaps the opening line, "Dreams of innocence and songs of sorrow," but the idea seems to be present in the heart/mind pairing in line 3 of that poem, in the "Whispered yearnings" poem, and in others.

Probably my favorite phrase was "fissures of words." That's neat for those of us who are fascinated by language.

I like the strong sensory nature of your poems - the perfumed vapors, trickling moondrops, life's merriment, unholy rantings, the emphasis on sleep and eyes. While you don't often put defined people in your writing, this sensory quality suggests human activity and people who are alert to their universe.

The good use of active verbs also appeals to me, and even more the use of verbals (especially participles/adjectives). Such words keep things moving and provide a sense of action even when you explore emotions.

Do you tend to revise much? I may be wrong, but these poems have more of a sense of immediacy, of feeling the moment, than of tireless craftsmanship. You might try taking the best phrases of one of them and then really working with it. You might come up with something interesting without losing the power of the present emotion.

You've got some fine words and phrases that suggest the futility and transience of life: "We learn we've squandered it all," "One last note," "Vacant stares within empty shells," "Immolation," "Our last shadow of life's embrace, "Blindness." Still, this futility is countered by dreams, fancies, moments of beauty ("moonbeams trickling down," "glittering falls").

In "Eyes of Emotion" you explore the "One moment before darkness transforms into dawn"; it's a special moment, all right, and worthy of the poet's work. I enjoyed several special moments and some welcome enlightenment by reading your work.

That's it. Don't read it if you don't like it. I haven't really written any poetry in 3 years, and don't know if I will again. Wee.