re: A Poison Tree, by William Blake. Let’s talk about what this means

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You are your own enemy

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Ain’t that the truth

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We used to over analyze these in high school. I tried to explain to my teacher why did it have to mean anything. Maybe Blake was just spouting off dribble that rhymed. He did not like that.

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Because you don’t sit and parse it out if it means nothing. Not in that time and place.

Maybe now when it’s all piss and drivel, just an endless pablum of the expected. When it’s a job, you can crank it out and have it mean noting. Nothing but a bit of wit and shite.


But then…when being published was a task?

A Poison Tree is more than it seems. It’s deeper than the razor’s edge.

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Is it about how hate forgiven frees us?

About how hate fostered condemns us?

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Yes

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Or about how if we plant the seeds that our enemies will take the poisoned fruit and allow us an opportunity?

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Yes

The question I have is did his decision determine the friend/foe role, or did the friend/foe role determine his decision?

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The question I have is did his decision determine the friend/foe role, or did the friend/foe role determine his decision?

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The latter, I think.

But now, I reconsider.
Is it by letting our wrath, our poison out, that we inform our friend and keep him?

And by keeping our hatred secret that we allow it to seed and grow until it bears poison fruit?

And though we may be gladdened by a foe’s demise, would we not have been freer with a friend ?

Blake starts off with a man confessing his wrath to a friend and how that alleviates the anger between them. They forgive each other. It ends it. It doesn't allow the seed of wrath to grow. Essentially killing it.

So with the rest of the poem Blake wants to contrast that with doing the opposite, and to see where it leads. No confessing of sins. No forgiveness. Allowing the seed of wrath to grow. To nurture it. To see its fruits.

I was having trouble with "Till it bore an apple bright."
At first I thought it was an idea or plan to harm his foe.

But I'm thinking that he nurtured his wrath so much that he could no longer hide it or try to pretend anymore. He became so angry that he literally turned red. He said hateful, threatening and terrible things. He went apeshit. It was finally all out in the open. "And my foe beheld it shine."

What is the fruit of wrath? What is its end game here? To see it all the way through to the end? You have to kill. Murder.

His foe saw and heard his intentions in his apeshit outburst. He confessed his hatred to his foe's face. "And my foe beheld it shine." "And he knew that it was mine."

His foe, knowing his intentions, and who was also harboring wrath, decided to act first and entered his house at night. "And into my garden stole."

But, concealed by darkness, he got the drop on his foe, and cold cocked him with a pole. "When the night had veild the pole."

So the contrast to confessing and forgiveness is damnation.

He became wrath. A murderer. He is the poison tree.
"My foe outstretched beneath the tree."
It's the same as saying, "My foe outstretched beneath me."

There is a Native American tale about two wolves inside us all.

One is black and is hatred, anger, loneliness, distrust, vengeance, violence, fear, oppression etc

The other is white and is community, friendship, love, care, hope, fellowship forgiveness etc

When the Native boy ask the wise elder who wins the battle in each of us the wise old man replies “the one you feed the most”

That is what Blake is saying too.

To me it seems to be a poem of revenge, like the story A Cask of Amontilado, but what do I know. The last line of the poem is my favorite.

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There is a Native American tale about two wolves inside us all.

One is black and is hatred, anger, loneliness, distrust, vengeance, violence, fear, oppression etc

The other is white and is community, friendship, love, care, hope, fellowship forgiveness etc

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Cancel native Americans!

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If we keep our hatreds and wrath secret, rather than expressing and resolving them, they grow inside of us. (My wrath did grow) In growing, they inflict suffering on the one who harbors the wrath (fears, tears) and evolve into obsessions (smiles, deceitful wiles). But sometimes, these hidden, obsessive hatreds also serve as motivation and yield gratifying vengeance (an apple bright, glad I see). Ultimately, unspoken wrath destroys both the hater and the hated.

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Everyone always says this is about how letting anger fester is bad for you but I see no proselytizing in the poem. It's just an observation on how you'll be happy to see your enemy dead when your plans for his demise finally come to fruition. Whether or not that's the kind of person you want to be is left up to you the reader.