Tess Of The D’Urbervilles-Phase The First–The Maiden

This is a long post.

Persuasion always works with me. I am not stubborn like I used to be.But before anything I say let me thank all of you for the kind words ofencouragement in a ridiculous time. Said that… I really wish nothinghappened. As I have little or no control over it. I no longer worryabout things at all. It was a quick turn around. And it is all of you Ithank once more for the support.

   Once more I am going to specially thank Sam for thewonderful support she gave. I am forever indebted to this young girl.Her words stood out from everyone else’s, and her remarkable boldnessto support someone in dire straits amaze me once more. Thanks againSam.

   Last night I voice chatted with my mom on yahoo and I toldher I am tired. She told me something that helped me to come back here.She told me if you are tired go back to where you truly belong. Thelove of you xangans and words and the special words from Sam saying”Regardless of what you say, I will think of you…I hope that thistime works more than any.” And heartcry24 I agree with you this day ofgood eating cannot be spent on ridiculous thoughts. I thank you toohere.
 
 Ok enough rambling
  I am going to post the first installment of “Tess OfD’Urbervilles”. I called this first draft when I first posted this inLonelyPoet.Org. Now I know I am not going to make any big changes inthis. But unlike I said before it won’t be coming to you in eight days.I haven’t even started writing the last poem. I am stuck with one ofthe letters which is a heart touching one by Tess to Angel Clare. Well it may take sometime to finish the whole thing as my work isdemanding my attention big time. I am working tomorrow. So go figurehow busy I am these days.
    
  Thomas Hardy wrote novels to get money to publish his poetry.Most of his novels first came out as serials in Papers and Magazines atthat time. So his novels are heavily descriptive. I love reading it asit kinda takes one to a flight through Victorian England and thepeasant life there. But when I am taking the sequence of events fromthe novel to speak about the main character in the book, the wholedescriptiveness kinda become a stumbling block than a big help. Inother words the mastery of Thomas Hardy’s style is bound in thisdescriptiveness. Rather than trying to write the whole thing in onemonth I should’ve realistically tried to write it in six months. It isworth the effort for my satisfaction. I am sure some of you may likeit. Others may not even find much time reading it at all. The first twophases or parts I just breezed through as Hardy was just talking aboutthe circumstances than the character here.  So my first poems arecomparatively smaller ones. But from third poem onwards you can seesome of Hardy’s descriptiveness in my poems also. I may change it in myrewrite of those poems.

   So here is the first one on this wonderful “White”Thanksgiving day. I am going to go and dance outside in the snow. It issnowing here.

The world may wonder if ever these verses be found,
How many years this character of fiction swayed?
The mind of an adolescent, a youth and now a man,
How many more have been amazed at the boldness?
Of a girl, lady and a woman filled,
With hope, dreams, passion and love,
Even from the day she had known the first lessons of life.
Tess of the D’Urbervilles lived in many hearts,
Taught the lessons of her painful life,
Kept the hope of her lifetime ever green,
Seventeen years passed in my life with the urge,
To tell the world what I felt from Hardy’s tale,
Here I am breaking my silence I kept for long.

Tess Of The D’Urbervilles. Phase The First–The  Maiden.

Durbeyfield’s empty soul was filled,
By the parson who called him Sir,
And told a truth he never known to himself,
That the noble D’Urbervilles really were his ancestors.

May Day dance of the virgins filled the meadows,
The music and rhythm and the beauty of the ladies,
Every soul so pure, every step the meadow loved,
Spring time was born for this day of the dancers.

Tess Durbeyfield was no lady at that time,
Sweet sixteen upon her was knocking,
But still traces of childhood loomed,
All over her in gestures and this May Daydance,                                                                 
And her beauty to which nature blended in pride,
The evening golden light held on to her,
Like a parasite that will die if parted from the host.

The onlookers watched in amazement,
Of this beauty of nature in rarity seen,
Among them were the tourists on foot,
Who watched the dancers as if in a dream,
The wanderers never thought of the dance,
But sight and monotony of the walk
And the power of youth flushing from heart,
Led Angel Clare to dance,
On the meadow as a partner for each of them.

Tess never thought of any man,
But youth also have a price to pay,
The inevitability of the passion of love,
In that moment’s wish of his hand.

Angel left without a word nor danced with her,
Pride and embarrassment too played their roles,
Her father’s mockery of her family,
Boasting about the dead noble ancestors in Leads,
With a belly filled with fresh brewed ale.

Durbeyfield’s celebration of his nobility,
Went late into the night,
Drunk to the marrow he failed to stand straight,
And poor Tess and young Abby took the goods,
To reach the market by morn,
On a horse cart late at night they started.

The night ride after the tiring day,
Knowing new about the D’Urberville ancestry
The mind of the young lady’s in dream,
For that knight, covered with the night,
Killed the horse she called prince,
For fate to start his role in her life.

Family always made the English  proud,
The same fact that led Tess to the Stokes,
In her thought that they were true D’Urbervilles,
But they were nothing but new rich folks,
With no real noble ancestry.

Alexander the Stoke she met in Trantridge,
Who looked at her as if in love,
Alec knew nothing about love,
In the lavish life style of his,
Money and the power of wealth,
Charm and the feel of lust,
All covered this man from head to toe.

Employment at the age of sixteen,
When she should’ve been singing,
Along with the birds on the meadow,
That was left empty,
As to the caged birds whistled she.

Alec is no guardian of anyone,
And the guardian angels slept,
When the innocence of a virgin was ravaged,
Blown with the fog and left her to unknown ruins,
A simple act of lust of the wealthy,
The total mockery of womanhood,
Oh’ life sometime sure is unjust,
That was a moment in history and fiction,
I always wished never done, written or said.

(End Of Phase One)

You post your comments here or email me your opinions if you cannotpost it here or IM me on yahoo. I’d love to here what some of you thinkabout this.

If you are interested in reading the book  here is a link where you can read it. ‘Tess Of The D’Urbervilles-A Pure Woman’ This is the text I followed.

Happy Thanksgiving again.