Heavenly Refinement
#1
I

The sky split that day
when He reached down
and gently took her up.

All that was left
was stiff and lanky, an empty shell
for others to manage.

My mind went adriftin',
even though I knew
she's now better-than-ever:

an Irish girl, old from the smoke
with grayish, green, sea-glass eyes,
muted and smooth,

now she's twinklin' her shiniest
burst o' life, peridot marbles;

none of us can see them, not here in this arena
where we start out strong and end up weak,
always sweaty-wrestlin' Light vs. dark.

Her tangled tiara of thick grey fuzz hasn't room
for even a memory in that residence of Light,
where everything stays fresh
and crowns earned will be happily thrown:

no sin, rust, or moths can gobble anything up;
there's no fear, no trippin' on rugs, no broken hips,

today she's springin' a jig, crystal River Dancin', bouncin'
curly locks whose energies gleam brighter
than the smiles of hungry villagers watchin'
wagons heap in golden wheat.

Her wrinkles melted away, warm honey, boastin'
cheek's freckles, she once hated,
now win grandest pageants
against the glitterin' shimmers of angels' faces.


II


I got reeled in last night with a special gaffe.
Pulled from my wanderin' afar on a Melville raft,
"Better to sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian".
It made me laugh, then reminded me, I am neither.

I wonder sometimes
when God reaches down
His Shepherd's stick,

what does His staff look like to Him?
Does it sparkle like snow,
gently shoot warm points of Light
that it might gently nudge us in love?

My Heavenly Father, He fluffed
all my pillows last night, tucked me in,
whispered thunders through a young preacher
hidden in reserves, unswayed by man's religiosity:

"And ye shall seek me,
and find me, when ye shall search for me
with all your heart."




Inspired by God's Word
Jeremiah 29 KJV
there's always a better reason to love
Reply
#2
neato title - everything is in an alchemical process
I

The sky split that day
when He reached down
and gently took her up.

(neato - sure it'll be the earth that splits and the other bloke for me)

All that was left
was stiff and lanky, an empty shell
for others to manage.

(mmm... little unsure what to visualise here - maybe a cone type shell, but that's add odd shape for a person - got me thinking about cicada skins or maybe a mantis - if they did that -lanky for me implies legs that bend at the knee and stride along, i thought perhaps 'brittle/cemented/starched?")

My mind went adriftin', (punct adriftin' does it need an apostrophe or hyphen)
even though I knew
she's now better-than-ever:

an Irish girl, old from the smoke
with grayish, green, sea-glass eyes, (greyish)
muted and smooth,
(agreeable mmms gggs ssses)

now she's twinklin' her shiniest
burst o' life, peridot marbles;
(had to stop and think whether it was her life or her eyes that sparkled)

none of us can see them, not here in this arena
where we start out strong and end up weak,
always sweaty-wrestlin' Light vs. dark.
(wot, poor old dark doesn't get a capital)

Her tangled tiara of thick grey fuzz hasn't room
for even a memory in that residence of Light,
where everything stays fresh
and crowns earned will be happily thrown:

(noice)

no sin, rust, or moths can gobble anything up;
there's no fear, no trippin' on rugs, no broken hips,

today she's springin' a jig, crystal River Dancin', bouncin'
curly locks whose energies gleam brighter
than the smiles of hungry villagers watchin'
wagons heap in golden wheat.


Her wrinkles melted away, warm honey, boastin'
cheek's freckles, she once hated,
now win grandest pageants
against the glitterin' shimmers of angels' faces.

(grandest pageants is a little odd)
II


I got reeled in last night with a special gaffe.
Pulled from my wanderin' afar on a Melville raft,
"Better to sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian".
It made me laugh, then reminded me, I am neither.

(neato)

I wonder sometimes
when God reaches down
His Shepherd's stick,
(stick may be better as crook)

what does His staff look like to Him?
Does it sparkle like snow,
gently shoot warm points of Light
that it might gently nudge us in love?

(nah you're almost smothered in his hand and warm to the core and all his bliss had seeped in)

My Heavenly Father, He fluffed
all my pillows last night, tucked me in,
whispered thunders through a young preacher
hidden in reserves, unswayed by man's religiosity:
(noice booming fluffy wwws and uuua and sssses and ttts)

"And ye shall seek me,
and find me, when ye shall search for me
with all your heart."
(hmm caps for god?)




Inspired by God's Word
Jeremiah 29 KJV



pretty groovy - imho it's the tunnel thats illusory, not the light at the end noice read
My Muse, to labour chained
demure, pure, restrained
may yet escape -
i'll grab his cape
and hitch-hike to new planes

mehopkins1971.wordpress.com
Reply
#3
Hi nibbed,
some general thoughts.
You've got two voices here, and I think you'd be better off with just the one.
There's the voice of contractions (e.g. S3, S9, S10, S11 - which works very well), and the voice without (which is less interesting). It's almost in a dialect, but not quite.
S4 - would have liked to have read, 'greyish, green[ish] eyes...
S11 - Gaffe - should be gaff.
      - you don't preclude for the possibility that you are a sober cannibal.
S13 - two 'gently' (you don't really need the first)
Not entirely convinced by the tone of the final two stanzas.
Do you know to whom N is speaking? It doesn't need to be explicit, but if you've got it in your mind then it might help maintain the voice/tone.

Best, Knot.
Reply
#4
Hi Mopkins. Thank you for taking the time to critique my poem,
I know it was long and tedious. I appreciate your attention to it.



neato title - everything is in an alchemical process                                -it's a bit freaky, I'm still not used to it
I

The sky split that day
when He reached down
and gently took her up.

(neato - sure it'll be the earth that splits and the other bloke for me)   -doesn't have to be

All that was left
was stiff and lanky, an empty shell
for others to manage.

(mmm... little unsure what to visualise here - maybe a cone type shell, but that's add odd shape for a person - got me thinking about cicada skins or maybe a mantis - if they did that -lanky for me implies legs that bend at the knee and stride along, i thought perhaps 'brittle/cemented/starched?")
                                                                                                                                         -she appeared more lanky than stiff, I imagine she was stiff
My mind went adriftin', (punct adriftin' does it need an apostrophe or hyphen)                   I didn't poke her, just held her hand, stroked her hair,
even though I knew                                                                                                             it's just something I see in my head, looking back,
she's now better-than-ever:                                                                                                 it's something I can't ever unsee.

an Irish girl, old from the smoke
with grayish, green, sea-glass eyes, (greyish)                                                                        thank you, yes
muted and smooth,
(agreeable mmms gggs ssses)

now she's twinklin' her shiniest
burst o' life, peridot marbles;
(had to stop and think whether it was her life or her eyes that sparkled)                               maybe omitting comma will help

none of us can see them, not here in this arena
where we start out strong and end up weak,
always sweaty-wrestlin' Light vs. dark.
(wot, poor old dark doesn't get a capital)                                                                               -nope! hahaha

Her tangled tiara of thick grey fuzz hasn't room
for even a memory in that residence of Light,
where everything stays fresh
and crowns earned will be happily thrown:

(noice)

no sin, rust, or moths can gobble anything up;
there's no fear, no trippin' on rugs, no broken hips,

today she's springin' a jig, crystal River Dancin', bouncin'
curly locks whose energies gleam brighter
than the smiles of hungry villagers watchin'
wagons heap in golden wheat.


Her wrinkles melted away, warm honey, boastin'
cheek's freckles, she once hated,
now win grandest pageants
against the glitterin' shimmers of angels' faces.

(grandest pageants is a little odd)                                                                                           -I was struggling here, too
II


I got reeled in last night with a special gaffe.
Pulled from my wanderin' afar on a Melville raft,
"Better to sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian".
It made me laugh, then reminded me, I am neither.

(neato)

I wonder sometimes
when God reaches down
His Shepherd's stick,
(stick may be better as crook)

what does His staff look like to Him?
Does it sparkle like snow,
gently shoot warm points of Light
that it might gently nudge us in love?

(nah you're almost smothered in his hand and warm to the core and all his bliss had seeped in)  -ty

My Heavenly Father, He fluffed
all my pillows last night, tucked me in,
whispered thunders through a young preacher
hidden in reserves, unswayed by man's religiosity:
(noice booming fluffy wwws and uuua and sssses and ttts)

"And ye shall seek me,
and find me, when ye shall search for me
with all your heart."
(hmm caps for god?)




Inspired by God's Word
Jeremiah 29 KJV



pretty groovy - imho it's the tunnel thats illusory, not the light at the end noice read

thank you kindly, mopkins
have a wonderful evening

-nibbed



(12-09-2017, 02:06 AM)Knot Wrote:  Hi nibbed,
some general thoughts.
You've got two voices here, and I think you'd be better off with just the one.
There's the voice of contractions (e.g. S3, S9, S10, S11 - which works very well), and the voice without (which is less interesting). It's almost in a dialect, but not quite.
S4 - would have liked to have read, 'greyish, green[ish] eyes...
S11 - Gaffe - should be gaff.
      - you don't preclude for the possibility that you are a sober cannibal.
S13 - two 'gently' (you don't really need the first)
Not entirely convinced by the tone of the final two stanzas.
Do you know to whom N is speaking? It doesn't need to be explicit, but if you've got it in your mind then it might help maintain the voice/tone.

Best, Knot.


I kind of wanted to make a transition of the refinement from I to II, but it must not have made quite enough impression.
Yes, greyish does sound better, thank you.
Good golly I have been spelling gaff wrong FOREVER! Thank you so much!
I will have to weigh the gently and see what you mean, likely you are correct, thank you for finding that. I like to think the narrator may be speaking to folks who have suffered loss, likely believers, who understand a bit about a place called heaven, and those who are aware of the Refiners Fire.

Knot, thank you so much for your kind, thorough, and thoughtful critique. I hope you find many blessings tonight!


-nibbed
there's always a better reason to love
Reply
#5
Hi nibbed

(12-09-2017, 04:33 PM)nibbed Wrote:  I kind of wanted to make a transition of the refinement from I to II

That was what I first thought you were attempting, but
what I kept on coming back to was
I got reeled in last night with a special gaffe.
Pulled from my wanderin' afar on a Melville raft,
"Better to sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian".
It made me laugh, then reminded me, I am neither.
particularly I got and my wanderin' afar
Neither they, nor the tone of the whole stanza, are quite as 'formal'
(or 'refined' if you prefer) as what I think you're aiming for.
Fix these, and the transition will be clearer I think.
I'd also suggest starting this stanza with 'this night' or similar
to make a clear distinction with 'that day' in S1

Similarly,
My Heavenly Father, He fluffed
all my pillows last night, tucked me in,
whispered thunders through a young preacher
hidden in reserves, unswayed by man's religiosity:
fluffed all my pillows and tucked me in
are both more 'folksy' than 'formal'

Shepherd's stick - why not crook?
If you can find a way to avoid the stick/staff repetition
that would help with the more refined tone.

Best, Knot
Reply
#6
hi knot

I think it was more reflection or looking back while standing in a new place, old language (not quite like sarcasm), but how you might tell a close friend about a thick moment and repeat it silly accented in the beginning, I guess it was more a frame of mind and comfortable teeter...I will have to look at it and see if I can/should change it. I absolutely get what you are saying, though, and see how it might lend to confusion. I do like crook, it's clever, just don't want to lend a wrong impression or hint that God may be dishonest, but then it does sound rather good in other ways, doesn't it? We'll see.

thank you kindly for your helpful encouragement and such attention to my poem!




-nibbed
there's always a better reason to love
Reply
#7
(12-08-2017, 10:38 AM)nibbed Wrote:  I

The sky split that day
when He reached down
and gently took her up.

All that was left
was stiff and lanky, an empty shell
for others to manage.

My mind went adriftin',
even though I knew
she's now better-than-ever:

an Irish girl, old from the smoke
with grayish, green, sea-glass eyes,
muted and smooth,

now she's twinklin' her shiniest
burst o' life, peridot marbles;

none of us can see them, not here in this arena
where we start out strong and end up weak,
always sweaty-wrestlin' Light vs. dark.

Her tangled tiara of thick grey fuzz hasn't room
for even a memory in that residence of Light,
where everything stays fresh
and crowns earned will be happily thrown:

no sin, rust, or moths can gobble anything up;
there's no fear, no trippin' on rugs, no broken hips,

today she's springin' a jig, crystal River Dancin', bouncin'
curly locks whose energies gleam brighter
than the smiles of hungry villagers watchin'
wagons heap in golden wheat.

Her wrinkles melted away, warm honey, boastin'
cheek's freckles, she once hated,
now win grandest pageants
against the glitterin' shimmers of angels' faces.


II


I got reeled in last night with a special gaffe.
Pulled from my wanderin' afar on a Melville raft,
"Better to sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian".
It made me laugh, then reminded me, I am neither.

I wonder sometimes
when God reaches down
His Shepherd's stick,

what does His staff look like to Him?
Does it sparkle like snow,
gently shoot warm points of Light
that it might gently nudge us in love?

My Heavenly Father, He fluffed
all my pillows last night, tucked me in,
whispered thunders through a young preacher
hidden in reserves, unswayed by man's religiosity:

"And ye shall seek me,
and find me, when ye shall search for me
with all your heart."




Inspired by God's Word
Jeremiah 29 KJV

hi nibbed,

what i get in part 1 is  faith in an afterlife..  it´s almost too detailed a description for me..
concerning stanza 6:  strong/ weak is such a relative term. sometimes it seems like the stronger, the more damage is possible. i think light vs dark in human terms is only what we make it up to be.

in the first stanza of part 2 you might write" it made me laugh and thank god i was neither." (if that should suit your purpose).
the second and third stanza (of part 2) are probably hard to write.. because how would you imagine something that can´t be imagined.  i´d like part two better without them if i´m honest.
or maybe,  you might try to formulate the questions that are being answered in your last stanza, something like "would i be able to recognize ..".
concerning the young preacher: there is either a specific purpose i don´t get or it seems a little distracting.

p.s. i saw that you found a place for "sea glass" in  this poem.
i have a question:  wrote a little thing on sea glass,  i guess i had to when i saw your comment, but it still feels like your  metaphor. if you´d enable your pm function for a while i´d send it.  or if you would agree i could post it in one of the forums together with your comment to reference its inspiration.
...
Reply
#8
(12-10-2017, 03:08 AM)vagabond Wrote:  
(12-08-2017, 10:38 AM)nibbed Wrote:  I

The sky split that day
when He reached down
and gently took her up.

All that was left
was stiff and lanky, an empty shell
for others to manage.

My mind went adriftin',
even though I knew
she's now better-than-ever:

an Irish girl, old from the smoke
with grayish, green, sea-glass eyes,
muted and smooth,

now she's twinklin' her shiniest
burst o' life, peridot marbles;

none of us can see them, not here in this arena
where we start out strong and end up weak,
always sweaty-wrestlin' Light vs. dark.

Her tangled tiara of thick grey fuzz hasn't room
for even a memory in that residence of Light,
where everything stays fresh
and crowns earned will be happily thrown:

no sin, rust, or moths can gobble anything up;
there's no fear, no trippin' on rugs, no broken hips,

today she's springin' a jig, crystal River Dancin', bouncin'
curly locks whose energies gleam brighter
than the smiles of hungry villagers watchin'
wagons heap in golden wheat.

Her wrinkles melted away, warm honey, boastin'
cheek's freckles, she once hated,
now win grandest pageants
against the glitterin' shimmers of angels' faces.


II


I got reeled in last night with a special gaffe.
Pulled from my wanderin' afar on a Melville raft,
"Better to sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian".
It made me laugh, then reminded me, I am neither.

I wonder sometimes
when God reaches down
His Shepherd's stick,

what does His staff look like to Him?
Does it sparkle like snow,
gently shoot warm points of Light
that it might gently nudge us in love?

My Heavenly Father, He fluffed
all my pillows last night, tucked me in,
whispered thunders through a young preacher
hidden in reserves, unswayed by man's religiosity:

"And ye shall seek me,
and find me, when ye shall search for me
with all your heart."




Inspired by God's Word
Jeremiah 29 KJV

hi nibbed,

what i get in part 1 is  faith in an afterlife..  it´s almost too detailed a description for me..
concerning stanza 6:  strong/ weak is such a relative term. sometimes it seems like the stronger, the more damage is possible. i think light vs dark in human terms is only what we make it up to be.

in the first stanza of part 2 you might write" it made me laugh and thank god i was neither." (if that should suit your purpose).
the second and third stanza (of part 2) are probably hard to write.. because how would you imagine something that can´t be imagined.  i´d like part two better without them if i´m honest.
or maybe,  you might try to formulate the questions that are being answered in your last stanza, something like "would i be able to recognize ..".
concerning the young preacher: there is either a specific purpose i don´t get or it seems a little distracting.

p.s. i saw that you found a place for "sea glass" in  this poem.
i have a question:  wrote a little thing on sea glass,  i guess i had to when i saw your comment, but it still feels like your  metaphor. if you´d enable your pm function for a while i´d send it.  or if you would agree i could post it in one of the forums together with your comment to reference its inspiration.



Thank you vagabond for the kind consideration of critiquing my poem. I kept changing the preacher part because I couldn't find the right words without giving too much away, giving the wrong impression, or making it seem superficial. I may have to rework it.

Thanks for noticing the sea glass part. You had encouraged me when I was feeling low and I wanted to use it but i didn't know how—then a thought of Sharon's eyes once dusty, now new, came to mind. I would love to see what you have written in a poem and you are more than welcome to use it and make it your own, it would seem a privilege and honor to me.


-nibbed
there's always a better reason to love
Reply
#9
thank you vagabond, knot, and mopkins
for your critique and help in shaping up
my poem.



Heavenly Refinement

(slight revision)

I

The sky split that day
when He reached down
and gently took her up.

All that was left
was stiff and lanky, an empty shell
for others to manage.

My mind went adriftin',
even though I knew
she's now better-than-ever:

an Irish girl, old from the smoke
with greyish green, sea-glass eyes,
muted and smooth,

now she's twinklin' her shiniest
burst o' life
through peridot marbles;

none of us can see them, not here in this arena
where we start out strong and end up weak,
always sweaty-wrestlin' Light vs. dark.

Her tangled tiara
mobbed in thick grey fuzz hasn't room
for even a memory in that residence of Light,
where everything stays fresh
and crowns earned will be happily thrown:

no sin, rust, or moths can gobble anything up;
there's no fear, no trippin' on rugs, no broken hips,

today she's springin' a jig, crystal River Dancin', bouncin'
curly locks, whose energies gleam brighter than the smiles
of hungry villagers watchin' wagons heap in golden wheat.

Her wrinkles melted away, warm honey, boastin'
cheek's freckles (she once hated)
now win jubilant pageants
against glitterin' shimmers on angels' faces.


II


I got reeled in last night with a special gaff.
Pulled from my wanderin' afar on a Melville raft:
"Better to sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian".
It made me laugh, then reminded me, I am neither.

I wonder sometimes
when God reaches down
His Shepherd's stick,

does His sceptre sparkle as snow,
gently shooting warm points of Light
that it might gently nudge us in love?

My Heavenly Father, He fluffed and whitened
all my pillows last night, tucked me in,
whispered thunders through a young preacher
hidden in reserves, unswayed by man's religiosity:

"And ye shall seek me,
and find me, when ye shall search for me
with all your heart."




Inspired by God's Word
Jeremiah 29 KJV







Original


I

The sky split that day
when He reached down
and gently took her up.

All that was left
was stiff and lanky, an empty shell
for others to manage.

My mind went adriftin',
even though I knew
she's now better-than-ever:

an Irish girl, old from the smoke
with grayish, green, sea-glass eyes,
muted and smooth,

now she's twinklin' her shiniest
burst o' life, peridot marbles;

none of us can see them, not here in this arena
where we start out strong and end up weak,
always sweaty-wrestlin' Light vs. dark.

Her tangled tiara of thick grey fuzz hasn't room
for even a memory in that residence of Light,
where everything stays fresh
and crowns earned will be happily thrown:

no sin, rust, or moths can gobble anything up;
there's no fear, no trippin' on rugs, no broken hips,

today she's springin' a jig, crystal River Dancin', bouncin'
curly locks whose energies gleam brighter
than the smiles of hungry villagers watchin'
wagons heap in golden wheat.

Her wrinkles melted away, warm honey, boastin'
cheek's freckles, she once hated,
now win grandest pageants
against the glitterin' shimmers of angels' faces.


II


I got reeled in last night with a special gaffe.
Pulled from my wanderin' afar on a Melville raft,
"Better to sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian".
It made me laugh, then reminded me, I am neither.

I wonder sometimes
when God reaches down
His Shepherd's stick,

what does His staff look like to Him?
Does it sparkle like snow,
gently shoot warm points of Light
that it might gently nudge us in love?

My Heavenly Father, He fluffed
all my pillows last night, tucked me in,
whispered thunders through a young preacher
hidden in reserves, unswayed by man's religiosity:

"And ye shall seek me,
and find me, when ye shall search for me
with all your heart."




Inspired by God's Word
Jeremiah 29 KJV





(original)

I

The sky split that day
when He reached down
and gently took her up.

All that was left
was stiff and lanky, an empty shell
for others to manage.

My mind went adriftin',
even though I knew
she's now better-than-ever:

an Irish girl, old from the smoke
with grayish, green, sea-glass eyes,
muted and smooth,

now she's twinklin' her shiniest
burst o' life, peridot marbles;

none of us can see them, not here in this arena
where we start out strong and end up weak,
always sweaty-wrestlin' Light vs. dark.

Her tangled tiara of thick grey fuzz hasn't room
for even a memory in that residence of Light,
where everything stays fresh
and crowns earned will be happily thrown:

no sin, rust, or moths can gobble anything up;
there's no fear, no trippin' on rugs, no broken hips,

today she's springin' a jig, crystal River Dancin', bouncin'
curly locks whose energies gleam brighter
than the smiles of hungry villagers watchin'
wagons heap in golden wheat.

Her wrinkles melted away, warm honey, boastin'
cheek's freckles, she once hated,
now win grandest pageants
against the glitterin' shimmers of angels' faces.


II


I got reeled in last night with a special gaffe.
Pulled from my wanderin' afar on a Melville raft,
"Better to sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian".
It made me laugh, then reminded me, I am neither.

I wonder sometimes
when God reaches down
His Shepherd's stick,

what does His staff look like to Him?
Does it sparkle like snow,
gently shoot warm points of Light
that it might gently nudge us in love?

My Heavenly Father, He fluffed
all my pillows last night, tucked me in,
whispered thunders through a young preacher
hidden in reserves, unswayed by man's religiosity:

"And ye shall seek me,
and find me, when ye shall search for me
with all your heart."




Inspired by God's Word
Jeremiah 29 KJV
there's always a better reason to love
Reply




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