Phew! That was close. Deadline's met. Love one or loathe it (and I'm sure most people live in a slight fear of them), where would we be without the concept of deadlines? In an age of chaos and randomness, that's where. Plans would be poleaxed, schedules and schemes scuppered, timetables trashed. What was it the poet W.B. Yeats said? "Things fall apart; the center cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world..." We wouldn't want that. As to where the term originated, I refer you to my friend Terry Quinn's blog from earlier in the week where he explores various alternatives relating to fishing, printing-presses and prison yards. Suffice to say that the generally accepted meaning of the word in the 21st century is a date/time by which some task has to be completed or else.The "or else" bit varies according to circumstance. And naturally one's incentive to meet a deadline is usually in relation to the weight of the consequence and perhaps whether the deadline was mutually agreed or not. Maybe the essay doesn't get marked, the job application doesn't get considered, an article doesn't get published, the vote doesn't get cast, a passport becomes invalid or a holiday flight is missed, or some scheme falls through. Perhaps a fine or penalty payment is incurred, or hefty compensation becomes due. In extreme cases a finger or ear might get sliced off, or property be destroyed, or lives lost., or a planet dies. That latter scenario gives added and graphic meaning to the term.
the "dead" line
Time is running out. Enough of these Saturday night musings. Suffice it to say that I don't personally have a problem with deadlines. They are in place for a good reason. They are there to encourage and help us. For the most part, deadlines are our friends.đŸ˜‰ We should love and respect them. Move on...My latest poem has a Greek theme. Now there's a surprise. Last summer while on holiday in Zakynthos I re-read a collection of Euripides' tragic plays. I based a blog and poem on the play 'Medea' back in September (linked here if you wish to check it out ==> Gate). Today I've written something based on the play 'Hecuba'. She was the wife of King Priam of Troy. The connection to this week's theme is literal in at least two respects.
Firstly, Hecuba is contemplating a dead line, the end of a dynasty. After the Greek victory over Troy, her husband King Priam lies dead, and all her sons have been killed (Troilus, Hector, Paris, Deiphobus et cetera), as have most of her daughters. Only Cassandra and Polyxena survives, taken into slavery as is Hecuba by the conquering Greeks. Then Polyxena gets sacrificed as atonement for Achilles' death and Cassandra's days are numbered. These grievous events drive Hecuba to madness and eventual suicide. She throws herself overboard from the ship taking her to a life of captivity in Greece.
Secondly, the script of Euripides' play is just so many deal lines until the actors bring those lines to life, and for about a thousand years between 400BC and the Renaissance they were rarely acted at all. In fact it was only in the 19th century when translations from Ancient Greek into English, French and German became popular that actors were able to bring these powerful tragic plays to mainstream theater. And what phenomenal roles they are, the title characters in Euripides' plays: Hecuba, Medea, Electra, Iphigenia and more. Catch one if you can.
Hecuba, Queen of Troy
The form of today's poem, as you might guess from its title if you've ever seen the TV programme from which it takes its name, references that part of the show when a guest is introduced and the three panellists on one team each have to explain their connection to the guest. Only one explanation is true. The panellists on the opposing team have to guess which one by interrogating their opponents' explanations. I've only written from the perspective of one person, Odysseus, but it stands well on its own, I think. By the way, the sub-title of the poem is taken from a scene in 'Hamlet'. Would I Lie To You?"What's Hecuba to him...?"This is Hecubaand when I snuck into Troyunder cover as a spy in the early years of the war,trying to gain intelligencethat would help we Greeksbring this campaign to a speedy endbefore we sacrificedmany more brave menfrom each conflicting side,Helen recognised meeven in my filthy wrappings,with blackened and bloodied face.She didn't betray me but toldonly Hecuba, Queen of Troy.And Hecuba, looking into my eyessaw me for what I was,not just a spy but a kingin disguise. And royally she served me thenwhen she could havehad me dragged off and killed.She was civil, showed compassion,understood my mission.spared my life and secretlydespatched me in safetyfrom the city back to you.
So I say pity her now in her ragsand ashes. She is haggardand broken by grief for the lossof her king and all her brave sons,but spare her life.She is a royal wife and motherand though she rants and spittlesand barks like a mad dogshe is no threat to us now. Let meshow some kindness in return,repay her gesture of years ago.In compassion let her be led to my ship, not as a slavebut with tact, as a guest. Indulge me in this noble act.Thanks for reading, S ;-) Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to Facebook