The Other Luke's Gospel (v2)
#1
.
The Other Luke's Gospel


1.......Yea verily, I mean obviously, I know it would be wrong.
For a start, this is a very public place. There are witnesses, CCTV's
omnipresent, not to mention the fresh-flesh radiance of his face.
Then there's the fact that he's three, and I'm not.

2........He slipped through a gap, as if a sea divided,
not a backward glance, he was far too excited,
released like something uncorked from a bottle -
eagerness, energy and gone! Full throttle!
And for reasons which passeth all my understanding
I volunteered to recover and render him.
There's no mystery in the way that he's moving,
so what then possessed me to pursue this denizen?

3........The narrow way is long and thronged with a crowd,
through this valley of shadows, pursuit perforce slowed.
Yet, were I to only catch him, or my breath, just for a second,
I swear, I would make this an account with which to reckon?
For lo, would I smite him. And he would be smitten.
The work of a moment, like drowning a kitten. Hosanna,
I'd and hammer him into the carpet, straight down
through the concrete and out to the crypt
of the underground parking structure. No really,
he tripped. Officer.

4........But he's small, determined, unaware of the cost
of this sale-able, breakable, hand-painted, fine china
and I am ... Not.

5........Down the aisle, an obstruction, a woman - in Levis
(or some similar brand) - diverting my eyes.
She turns on her heel, just saunters away,
on that taut roll and curve I'm led, somewhat, astray
and it may well be argued that there, for an instant,
distracted, I held back, did not seize the infant.
His lead has extended, that's clear, but I'm dogged,
delayed, though I am, by this slow moving red-head.
Whose careful perusal of heaven knows what's
a tight-denim impediment, protecting the tot.
Who is unrepentantly cheerful, and I'm not.

6........At last I move past her, the vista's wide open,
that wondrous sound is nothing being broken.
Ahead he approaches some dove-white arrangement
and there I observe a sly disengagement:
some idling seeker ducks down by those vases,
head bowed and solemn (on seeing the prices).
Gold hopes become ash, the meek man provoked,
he ejaculates: 'God! This must be a joke?' Well,

7. .......the sin's one of omission and not easily forgiven,
it is here I would have you mark him down as a priest.
Ye shall know them when a blind eye, genuflection
and nothing, is their doing, and that doing is least.
And he's still at ease and I am ... Not.

8........If whatever abides in this grand retail temple,
be it Numen or Mammon or some Commercial Elemental,
should mistake breath's passion for orisons or obsecration,
misread flailing and flound'ring as ecstatic invocation:
and if they, in their wisdom, set his feet on a path
away from high priced home-wares and frangible glass,
out of this, too large, opulent, mercantile hall
and into heavy traffic, well, who, after all,
am I to deny the divine their devices?

9........For what kind of god doesn't want child sacrifices?

10........Intervention, when it comes, has neither white light nor choir,
is not cloaked in fine raiment, nor wreathed in holy fire,
as right before my eyes, he is gone. Vanished. Raptured.
Up into the arms of some name-tagged clerk, captured.

11........
A reflux of rage floods my throat. I am wild
that she sees nothing wrong laying hands on this child,
who is not hers and what's worse, she does that hip thing;
while the poor lamb is mute. Not even squirming.
Lungs full to burst, to denounce with a sermon,
this gendered iniquity, courage, I summon.
But then, on my tongue, the Spirit just dies;
rememb'ring he's bonny, blond and blue-eyed,
and I'm not.

12........So, whilst her grip on this brave little soldier's secure
and is tender, I'll show my palms meekly, sign truce
and surrender. Aloof, resolute in a store sanctioned blazer,
her dirty bomb's perfume - like clouds from a censer.
She stands there as one who has seen her bush
burning: while I beg the boy child: "ready to go then?"
13........Worn down by the trials of duty and promise,
beached like a Jonah, on a shore such as this,
an impotent idiot, too full of malice,

14........I'm the ass

15........who must lead them to his mother, Theresa.
She, thanks be to queuing, is right where we left her.
Wearily beautiful, favoured of grace,
some ghost disappears when she sees her son's face.
And, with barely a glance she discards The Samaritan,
so anticlimactic, this bloodless reunion.
Resigned, she consigns to me her carrier bag
(and something that may just pass for a smile).
To wait among pilgrims, lacking all progress,
my penance, a pittance: 'hold this place for a while'.

16........And he's innocence personified, and I am ...

17........Finally, atoning, approaching the counter,
obedient, supplicant, humble, forlorn. A last temptation
there overcame me: I wondered, "um ... Any way,
(any way at all,) that I could return ... Him?
I'll even take store credit.
(Which must surely vouchsafe the redemption to come?)
No, oh, okay, I get it, look, whatever you do, right,
don't tell his mum?"

18........It would have been foolish to ask, that is clear to me now,
but the events of the day, I avow, laid me low.
I've no need of a prophet to interpret the signs:
for there looms a tablet, a poor paper laminate,
in New Roman script it quite clearly proclaims:

19. .......Please ensure you have the receipt
and the payment card you originally used
to buy the product.

20........As grudging ground is gained in purgatorial limbo,
looking back, is there a lesson in their Marian tableau?
Truly,
what parent is there, that is not some kind of martyr?
And what child there is, who is not some sort of saviour?









The Other Luke's Gospel


1.   Yea verily, I mean obviously,
I know it would be wrong.
For a start, this is a very public place.
There are witnesses, the cctv's omnipresent,
not to mention the fresh-flesh radiance of his face.

2.   Then there's the fact that he's three
and I'm not.

3.   He slipped through a gap, as if a sea divided,
not a backward glance, he was far too excited,
released like something uncorked from a bottle,
all eager and energy, foot down, full throttle.
And for reasons that surpasseth all of my understanding
it was I who volunteered, to recover and render him.

4.   There's nothing mysterious in the way that he's moving
but what on earth possessed me to be pursue this denizen?
For the narrow way is long and thronged with a crowd,
through this valley of shadows my momentum is slowed.
But if I could only catch him, or my breath, for a second,
then surely I would make of this day an account to be reckoned.

5.   For lo would I smite him and he would be smitten.
Tis the work of a moment, much like drowning a kitten.
I'd hosanna and hammer him into the carpet,
straight down through the concrete and out to the crypt,
of the underground parking structure. 
No really, he tripped.  Officer.

6.   But he's small and determined, oblivious to the cost
of all this exquisitely breakable, hand-painted, fine china,
and I'm...Not.

7.   Now my view is obstructed by a woman in Levis
(or some similar brand) which diverts my eyes.
She just turns her back and is walking away,
caught on that taut roll and curve, I'm led somewhat astray.

8.   And it may well be argued that there, for an instant,
my focus was not fully on seizing the infant.
For his lead has extended, but know this, I am dogged,
if I could only get past this slow moving red-head;
whose careful perusal of heaven knows what,
is a tight denim impediment in my pursuit of the tot.

9.   Who is unrepentantly cheerful
and I am...Not

10.   Then I'm past her, at a crossroads, a vista wide open,
where the most wondrous sound is of nothing being broken.
Up ahead he's approaching some dove-white arrangement
and I can see, as he passes, a furtive disengagement.

11.   When an eye averting seeker slips behind all those vases,
ducks their head, bows down, (purely to inspect the prices),
and in their idle speculation they are quickly provoked,
to an involuntary ejaculation; 'Dear god. Surely a joke?'

12.   Well, their sin's one of omission, and not easily forgiven,
and here, I would have you mark them down as a priest.
Ye shall know them when a blind eye, genuflection
and nothing, is their doing, and that doing is least.

13.   And he is still at ease
and I'm...Not.

14.   Now if whatever abides here in this most retail of temples,
be it Numen or Mammon or some Commercial Elemental,
should mistake my breath's passion for orisons or obsecration,
misconstrue flailing and floundering for ecstatic invocation.

15.   And were they then to set his feet on a path,
away from high priced home-wares and frangible glass,
out of this too large, opulent, mercantile hall
and into heavy traffic; well, who, after all,
am I to deny the divine their devices?
For what kind of god doesn't want child sacrifices?

16.   Yet intervention, when it comes, has neither white light nor choir.
Is not cloaked in fine raiment, nor wreathed in holy fire.
As right before my eyes, he is gone, vanished, Raptured,
up into the arms, of some name-tagged clerk. Captured.
Resolute and redoubtable in a store sanctioned blazer,

her dirty bomb's perfume spreads like clouds from a censer.

17.   Of a sudden, a reflux of rage floods my throat and I'm wild,
that she sees nothing wrong in laying hands on this child,
who is not hers, and what's worse, she can do that hip thing;
meanwhile, the poor lamb is mute, he's not even squirming.

18.   My lungs fill to burst, to denounce, with a sermon,
this gendered iniquity, a full-flowered oration.
But then, on my tongue, I feel that some spirit has died
as I remember he is bonny, blond, and blue-eyed,
and I am...Not.
 
19.   So, whilst her grip on this
brave little soldier is secure and is tender,
I'll open my palms meekly, in truce and surrender.
Across the void, he and I reach an unspoken understanding -
eye to eye, now he's risen - it is time for returning.

20.   Worn down by the trials of duty and promise,
beached like a Jonah, on a shore such as this,
an impotent idiot, too full of malice,

21.   I'm the ass

22.   leading them back to his mother, the near sainted Theresa,
who, given the nature of queuing, is just right where we left her.
She is wearily beautiful, favoured of silence and grace
and some ghost disappears when she sees her son's face.

23.   Like Elisha's comb-over, I'm a lesson in failure;
that the prodigal's return should be at the hands of this stranger.
There is anticlimax in this bloodless reunion,
where she reclaims what is hers, dismisses The Samaritan.

24.   Resigned, she consigns to me a carrier bag
(and something that may just pass for a smile),
her position among these pilgrims, lacking all progress,
is my penance, a pittance, hold this place for a while.

25.   And he's innocence personified,
and I am...

26.   Finally, atoning, approaching the counter,
just another supplicant, humble, forlorn.
A last temptation there overcame me
and I wondered if there was any way,
any way at all, that I could return...Him?

27.   I'll even take store credit.
(Which is surely a vouchsafe of the redemption to come.)
Ok, I get it, but, look, whatever you do,
just, don't tell his mum?

28.   It would have been foolish to ask,
that is quite clear to me now,
but the events of the day had, I avow, laid me low.
It takes neither soothsayer nor prophet to interpret the signs,
for there looms a tablet, a poor paper laminate,
that in some new Roman script, clearly proclaims:

29.   Please ensure you have the receipt
and the payment card you originally used to buy the product.

30.   As grudging millimetres are gained in purgatorial limbo.
Looking back, perhaps, there's a lesson in their Marian tableau:
For truly, what parent is there that is not some kind of martyr?
And what child there is who is not some sort of saviour?


Reply
#2
Moved from Fun to Mild at Knot's request.
billy wrote:welcome to the site. make it your own, wear it like a well loved slipper and wear it out. ella pleads:please click forum titles for posting guidelines, important threads. New poet? Try Poetic DevicesandWard's Tips

Reply
#3
So, Knot, I read this In Fun and cracked a few grins, particularly at 5, 15 and 26 and the lovely final couplet. I enjoyed the parts that rolled off in flawless meter and skimmed over what didn't, enjoyed your use of the refrain.

Not being a fan of bibles I ignored all the many references I didn't get and just enjoyed the chase.

Now that the poem is in a critical forum I feel the need to understand more before commenting but I'm stumped at my first attempt. I've tried reading through 30 of the Gospel of Luke and still don't get why you have 30 verses. As this sat a while in Fun I may not be alone so maybe it would help if you can point me in the right direction, at least show me the door, if not the key. I'm at a loss, which is a shame because the parts of the poem that are less cloaked are a pleasure.
billy wrote:welcome to the site. make it your own, wear it like a well loved slipper and wear it out. ella pleads:please click forum titles for posting guidelines, important threads. New poet? Try Poetic DevicesandWard's Tips

Reply
#4
Hi ella,

there are thirty verses because that's how long it is.
Sorry. Smile

But glad you enjoyed the chase,
that was the point of the piece.

I 'framed' it as a reworking of the Good Samaritan
Story (after stumbling upon verse 5), except in this
case the Samaritan gets there in time to prevent the beating.
(keywords: Levite, Priest, Samaritan)

Luke's Gospel (it turns out)
is the only one to feature the story



Best, Knot.
Reply
#5
- a rather belated revision -
Reply




Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)
Do NOT follow this link or you will be banned from the site!