The Achilles Heels of the Human Soul

Description:
The human soul is the least perfect thing in the universe. For every drop of love, there is an ounce of hate. For every time of peace, there are months of war. For every ray of hope, there is a cloud of despair. Everything good in the world has a nasty side. Whereas Achilles had only one weak spot, we have many.

Synopsis:
These are poems about about war and peace, about hope and despair. These are poems about the soul.

Poetry:

A Poison Tree by William Blake

Love's Philosophy by Percy Bysshe Shelley


Mending Wall by Robert Frost

Peace by Henry Vaughan

Requiesquat by Matthew Arnold

The Fall of Rome by W. H. Auden


The Soul Unto Itself by Emily Dickinson


Why is the Color of Snow? by Brenda Shaughnessy

Falling

The darkness,
creeping in,
leaving me
alone
falling endlessly, rapidly hurtling towards the ground
that I can't see
grasping, clawing at the air,
searching for a way to
slow
my descent.
A surge of light,
of power,
of strength,
I find a handhold, a place to rest.
Holding myself close,
safe at last,
my mind moves on
in its slumber
leaving me
until I can
catch up

Melancholy

My mother sat by the computer, phone in her hand. It was my dad. I knew it
Eavesdropping on her side of the conversation, I heard her say: "Should I tell them?" She didn't speak again, but she nodded her head.
"Love you, bye," she said finally. I waited for her to continue.
After an antagonizing moment, she did.
"Nosotros va a..." she spoke, struggling with her Spanish.
"Can I speak?" We were laughing at her, but she continued, "We're moving."
Hateful tears filled my eyes. We couldn't be... not now, not when I had come to love this place so much.
Overtaken by the lump in my throat, I sat back,
Loving my life, my friends, not wanting to give them up.
Yearning to keep the time I still had.

Return

A Naval Officer stood on the sand
Without grownups, the boys stood beside him
crying, acknowledging the crimes they'd committed
a semi-circle nearly complete
save three:
Simon
Piggy
The boy with the mark on his face

"Nobody killed?" the Officer asked
The savages stood silent: they knew what they'd done
Ralph, the leader, stood alone
wishing he could have done more
The boys wept
for the end of innocence
for the darkness of man's heart
for the fall through the air of the true, wise friend called
Piggy

The Officer's eyes rested
on the trim cruiser in the distance

Without Regard

Noxious scarlet
boiling pink

Plumes exploding
in the awe-inspiring nightfall

Plunging cataclysmically
crevices halting
the steaming hot lava

Erupting without regard
for ice caps
for humanity
for Mother Nature