Skip to content

Tiger Batman

    Jack Teagle’s Tiger Batman. I could not help to think of William Blake. I will indulge anyway, my wine sipping poetry college teacher would be proud. His name eludes me. He had this giant Arthur Rimbaud poster hanging over a crowded closet like office that nested 3 to 4 professors. This post is an ode to that lost teacher who is collecting a pension and still sipping wine to the bards of poetry out there. To the true enfant terrible.

    Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
    In the forests of the night,
    What immortal hand or eye
    Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

    In what distant deeps or skies
    Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
    On what wings dare he aspire?
    What the hand dare sieze the fire?

    And what shoulder, & what art.
    Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
    And when thy heart began to beat,
    What dread hand? & what dread feet?

    What the hammer? what the chain?
    In what furnace was thy brain?
    What the anvil? what dread grasp
    Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

    When the stars threw down their spears,
    And watered heaven with their tears,
    Did he smile his work to see?
    Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

    Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
    In the forests of the night,
    What immortal hand or eye
    Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?