The Damned Celebration of Fear-and Salvation

Certain people, in the grip of fear,
in the shadiness of a lessor or greater inclination,
exist as souls who travel belated and seek salvation,
human nature is a reflection clear,
yet lacking crucial instances it tells a tale so dire,
of the descent of man fueled by imagination’s fire.
The world over is a chilling gaze,
when the hermit’s solitude is shaken by the wild woman’s scream,
of men and apparitions, we dream a sleepless haunting dream.
Ghosts linger in the dimming days.
The Xingu River flows on moonless nights, dark and deep,
If you’re coming home leave there the restless spirits that creep.
The Lady’s Maid’s Bell Tolls in dread,
the triumph of night, it shivers here and beyond, in realms vast.
In the long run, the journey, a choice–a pact with shadows cast,
Afterward, the eyes are lingering though dead.
The triumph of Night is ever a relentless plight,
Miss Mary Pask, lost her way in the ghostly night.
As the darkest tales enshroud,
She bewitched, Mr. Jones, by forces unseen,
A pomegranate seed, a curse in bed sheets between,
the whisper of death came hauntingly loud.
And the looking glass reflects the unknown,
All souls entwined, damned, and in sorrow sown.
In your fears are where nightmares feast,
In the lessor or greater inclination,
I guess this is what they call a damned celebration
where terrors never cease.

A Damned Celebration is a haunting and evocative example of constraint-based poetry, composed using a technique that draws from the titles of works by a single author—one steeped in gothic, psychological, or supernatural themes. This method, known as the title constraint, transforms archival fragments into a cohesive poetic narrative, where each borrowed phrase, words rearranged, becomes a thread in a tapestry of dread, introspection, and metaphysical inquiry. The result is a poem that reads like a séance of literary ghosts, summoning characters, settings, and moods from a shared imaginative lineage.

The poem opens with a meditation on fear and human nature: “Certain people, in the grip of fear…” This line sets the tone for a psychological descent, where individuals are not merely afraid but ensnared by their own inclinations—whether minor or profound. The phrase “lessor or greater inclination” recurs throughout the poem, suggesting a moral ambiguity, a spectrum of choices that lead toward salvation or damnation. These souls are described as “belated travelers,” seeking redemption in a world that offers few clear paths. The poet implies that human nature is transparent, yet its clarity reveals a disturbing truth: a tale of decline, driven not by reason but by the fire of imagination.

This descent is not confined to the individual—it is cosmic and cultural. The poem’s gaze turns outward: “The world over is a chilling gaze…” Here, the hermit and the wild woman become archetypes of isolation and disruption. The hermit’s solitude is shattered by the scream—a primal, feminine force that pierces the silence. This moment evokes gothic tropes of madness, hysteria, and the uncanny, where the boundaries between reality and apparition blur. The line “we dream a sleepless haunting dream” captures the essence of gothic consciousness: a state of perpetual unrest, where dreams are not escapes but confrontations.

Geography becomes metaphor as the poem invokes the Xingu River, flowing “on moonless nights, dark and deep.” This Amazonian reference adds a layer of mythic and colonial resonance, suggesting that even nature harbors spirits that must be left behind. The warning—“leave there the restless spirits that creep”—is both literal and symbolic, urging the reader to abandon the burdens of haunted memory before returning home.

The poem’s middle stanzas are populated by spectral figures and cursed objects: “The Lady’s Maid’s Bell,” “Miss Mary Pask,” “Mr. Jones,” and the “pomegranate seed.” These references, drawn from century old poem titles, create a chorus of the damned, each character trapped in their own narrative of loss, possession, or betrayal. The pomegranate seed, echoing Persephone’s myth, becomes a symbol of irreversible fate—a small act that binds one to the underworld. The line “a curse in bed sheets between” is especially chilling, suggesting intimacy tainted by death, love turned into a spectral contract.

The poem culminates in a reflection on mirrors and souls: “The looking glass reflects the unknown / All souls entwined, damned, and in sorrow sown.” This image of the mirror—a classic gothic motif—underscores the theme of self-recognition and horror. To look into the glass is to confront not just one’s reflection, but the accumulated weight of history, guilt, and fear. The final stanza—“In your fears are where nightmares feast…”—returns to the poem’s central thesis: that terror is not external, but internal, fed by our own inclinations and imaginings.

The phrase “a damned celebration” encapsulates the paradox at the heart of the poem. It is a celebration not of joy, but of acknowledgment—a ritual of naming the terrors that shape us. Through the title constraint technique, the poet resurrects voices from a literary graveyard, weaving them into a new narrative that is both homage and innovation. The constraint becomes a form of creative possession, where the poet channels the language of predecessors to speak truths that are timeless and terrifying.

A Damned Celebration is a masterful exploration of gothic themes through the lens of constraint poetry. It demonstrates how structure can deepen meaning, how borrowed titles can become original verse, and how fear—when named—can be transformed into art. The poem does not offer resolution, but revelation: that in the shadows we find ourselves, and in the mirror, we meet the ghosts we’ve always carried.