.

Ovid in Tomis

Relegated, scorned, I languish here
in this drab town. Unwitting, I caught sight
of what must not be seen; my wretched plight,
harsh exile from my laureate lettered sphere.

The ancients tell of Actaeon, a brash voyeur,
ravishing virgins his sanguine princely right.
I think my doom may echo his. I’ll write
of a huntress goddess, venting fierce hauteur.

This prince excels in every noble art:
the royal hunt; refined rhetorical skill.
He leaves his minions, wanders off alone,
through woodlands, twisty pathways overgrown.
He stumbles on Diana’s sacred zone,
perceives her face, contritely stands stock-still.
She knows he’s schooled in speech, is primed to sneer.
Her taunt: I’m nude, this secret you’ll not spill.
No more his voice, but the groan of a princely hart,
now his shape seems prey, ideal as kill.
His prized dogs tear their master’s limbs apart.
Vindictive powers rule our world, I fear.

.

.

Sonnet

after Shakespeare’s Sonnet 147

My love is as a Santa Ana wind
that sweeps across my psyche, hurling dust;
my peaceful breath’s constricted, comfort skinned,
unsullied thoughts engulfed by swirling lust.
Sound judgment: rainfall that would quench this craze,
exasperated by my fretful mood,
withholds its moisture. Soon the frenzied blaze
exploits my longing as its tinder wood.
Past rescue now, my heart-asylum burns.
There’s no escape, unflagging flames vault higher.
My red-hot marrow for your body yearns,
that we might die entwined on passion’s pyre.
__I overlook clear signs your vows ring foul,
__deny that you’re a demon on the prowl.

.

.

Mary Jane Myers resides in Springfield, Illinois. She is a retired JD/CPA tax specialist. Her debut short story collection Curious Affairs was published by Paul Dry Books in 2018.

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17 Responses

  1. Julian D. Woodruff

    I’ll leave the doings and musings of Ovid to others, but the sonnet after Shakespeare has immediacy and power. Casting the throes of lust in terms of the overheating, desiccating effects of a desert wind was a true inspiration. Compelling.

    Reply
  2. Cynthia Erlandson

    Mary Jane, I just re-read Shakespeare’s Sonnet 147, and you have written a marvelous echo of it here, using your own imagery. Your metaphor of the Santa Ana wind hurling dust and “swirling lust” — which could be quenched by the rain of reason, but is blown into a blaze — seems so apt a description of what’s going on in the psyche of the speaker.

    Reply
    • Mary Jane Myers

      Thank you Cynthia. It’s quite instructive to imitate Shakespeare’s sonnets. My experience of those Santa Ana winds was harrowing–they often stoke terrible fires. I fled from burning hillsides twice when I lived in Los Angeles. I’ll pass over any comments about my experiences with “bad boyfriends”!
      Most sincerely Mary Jane

      Reply
  3. Shamik Banerjee

    I wholeheartedly enjoyed both poems, especially the Sonnet. I agree with Cynthia: your version echoes the original in tone and delivery. There are strong notions that enrich the piece, such as sound judgement being rainfall, your longing being the wood preyed on by the frenzied blaze. The concluding couplet tactfully sums up the whole agenda. Thanks for the treat, Mary Jane.

    Reply
  4. Joseph S. Salemi

    A very fine poem on the Actaeon myth, with an unusual rhyme scheme after the two quatrains. There are many versions of the myth, with various reasons given for Actaeon’s punishment. The poet is drawing an unspoken parallel with the reasons for Ovid’s exile to Tomis — we are not sure of exactly why the Emperor banished him to die in such a horrid place, but the suspicion is that it might have been some sort of sexual transgression, or because he had seen something that he was not supposed to see. That ties in perfectly with Actaeon’s glimpse of the naked Diana.

    The sonnet is an excellent echo of Shakespeare’s # 147, one of the most emotionally savage intertwinings of lust and hatred in the entire sequence. You might even take Ms. Myers’ sonnet as the Dark Lady’s answer to the narrative voice in #147.

    Reply
  5. Paul A. Freeman

    I really enjoyed the Actaeon myth. I knew the bare bones of the story (all this mythical stuff seemed so dry when I was at school), so I feel both educated and entertained.

    Strangely, I wrote a short story today (a quietly humorous story) where a character got torn limb from limb.

    The sonnet? Loved the Americanisation with the ‘Santa Anna wind’, and what a killer couplet at the end.

    Thanks for the reads, Mary.

    Reply
    • Mary Jane Myers

      Dear Paul
      Thank you for your complimentary comments. Isn’t it strange how identical ideas simultaneously inspire writers — some vibration in the literary ether, some strange zeitgeist transmission. I’m so glad your story was humorous! The Diana variant is rather horrific.

      Lots of enjoyment in penning imitations of Shakespeare!
      Most sincerely, Mary Jane

      Reply
  6. Yael

    The Sonnet is awesome, I really like it’s construction, the smooth flow of thought and the message, too. Great job!

    Reply
  7. Roy Eugene Peterson

    The ending lines on both your poems are startling conclusions that stick in my mind. In your Ovid poem, indictive powers ruling our world is what we used to call “heavy” It transcends time and calls into question modern rulers in one fell swoop. Your salacious sonnet ends with a torrid thought, “deny that you’re a demon on the prowl.” In other words, even though a lover is bad, the sensuous proclivities outweigh the potential troubles foreshadowed by knowledge We find it difficult to resist such temptations.

    Reply
    • Mary Jane Myers

      Dear Roy
      Thank you for your kind comments. I am gratified to find a reader who likes my “conclusions!” I love to write concluding “epigrams” in my poems, a tendency that my tutor warns me against overusing. In the Ovid poem, I had set the ending line apart — a double space before that single line. She encouraged me to write it as part of the stanza, with no set-off. I rather like my original idea, and I think I may change it back!

      Most sincerely,
      Mary Jane

      Reply
  8. Margaret Coats

    The poem on the Actaeon myth can be read on several levels. First, the retelling of the story itself, but with the exiled Ovid as speaker there is a claim to his known literary persona. And like his own references, yours are obscure hints about the reason for exile, and more than his (I would say) venture into allegory. In particular, when your speaker says he writes of a “huntress goddess, venting fierce hauteur,” this describes the person responsible and characterizes that person’s emotions behind the enmity that sent the poet harshly away from his “laureate lettered sphere.” We could even supply “Latin sphere,” as Ovid complains of unfamiliarity with the language in his new residence. You introduce a concern with language as well as emotion in Diana’s hostile comment, leading up to Ovid/Actaeon’s metamorphosis into a “hart” killed by his dogs. You have Ovid express contrition for his fault (whatever it was), that does him absolutely no good–reflecting rather the cruelty of his goddess enemy (male or female, we don’t know, because it is allegory). The “prized dogs” may be friends who turned against the poet. This detail, along with the final line about “vindictive powers,” suggests moving from the level of Ovid and his classical sphere to contemporary cancel culture, where self-interested individuals may attack associates or benefactors.

    In the sonnet, I know exactly what you speak of in “Santa Ana” winds that inflict damage on land with unexpectedly sudden force, heat, and drought. You substitute these for Shakespeare’s disease, medicine, and madness. Your use of your chosen images is massive, thorough, and consistent, which is a measure of success in such an adaptation.

    Very much enjoyed your somber and masterful poems–with two great masters to imitate!

    Reply
    • Mary Jane Myers

      Margaret
      I am humbled by your praise–thank you for your careful and thoughtful reading. See the two links in my response to Joseph Salemi above. It fascinates me how Ovid may have subconsciously (or perhaps even full-on consciously?) manipulated the old myth to reflect his own bitter experiences. This particular example leads to a general interesting question: in what ways did the Romans appropriate the Greek mythopoeic tradition for their own purposes? I am participating right now in a group who is “close reading” Vergil’s Aeneid. We are amateurs, rather than classical scholars. It’s obvious to us (in a general, not in a systematic scholarly way) that Vergil is using the Iliad as a template. He is trying to prove the point that the Latin language is just as good as the Greek! But he modifies the themes to please Augustus who was subsidizing a grand project to construct a glorious foundation story. But of course Vergil’s own authorial voice takes over in many places. He’s not “all-in” with Augustus’s ideas.

      Those Santa Ana winds are “forces of nature.” I lived in Los Angeles in the Sepulveda Pass for many years–and personally experienced two scary fire evacuations. When I was writing this Shakespeare pastiche, I had in mind the over-the-top romantic scene in The English Patient “Tell Me About the Winds” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ph_vHgeSl7I Talk about sexual chemistry!

      Most sincerely
      Mary Jane

      Reply
      • Mary

        That movie excerpt should be titled: “Let me tell you about winds” …. the ghibli, which rolls and rolls and rolls and produces a rather strange and nervous condition.

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