A church of rounded stones
in grey morose tableaux,
but on this hot Epping morning,
a stone's throw from the dozing woods,
you feel like an Anglican ghost.

You take the Word of Israel,
sung in a pianist's key,
the fleshless glory of the Christ
up there in coloured glass.

But man always intrudes.
Man made the church, you know,
played the song which sung the Word.
And Christ Himself was flesh,
the glory holding like a stone
in grey morose tableaux.

HiJack,

Meters a little hit or miss. Starts off in iambic trimeter, and often returns to that, makes forays into iambic tetrameter, but also dips into the occasional non-meter. I think more consistency would energize the poem better. I see the juxtaposition of the ethereal and the corporal. I think this is suppose to point to the sterile word as opposed to the living, fleshy word. Certainly such is a division in Christian religious history and has been so since the First Council of Nicaea. And so the non-corporal Christ makes sense of the Anglican Ghost idea, or at least that is how this presents itself to me.

Dale

Yeah, I did play loose with the meter. I didn't even want meter, but I found myself chopping between 6 and 8 syllable-length lines. Thank you for the comment, Erthona!

(04-15-2015, 03:31 AM)alphazero Wrote:  Maybe reader wants to stay up there a while longer.

I like that, and you make an excellent point. Thank you for your comment, alphazero (cool username, by the way)!

(04-14-2015, 06:16 AM)Heslopian Wrote:  I think I generally agree with Erthona. Though the sound of the poem itself is already pretty good, a consistent meter would make some moments less odd, less breathless compared to the rest; it'd hammer the point across better.

A church of rounded stones
in grey morose tableaux,
but on this hot Epping morning, Here, there's a rather odd caesura in the middle of the line, which suddenly transitions to trochaic. It feels hot, in the sense that words tend to slow down in the heat, but it still feels rather off.
a stone's throw from the dozing woods, Then it jumps into this odd length -- I have to say, though, this line is already very, very good, showing its image perfectly, while tying with the earlier image really well. Maybe it's not that this line is too long, but that the first two are too short? I'm not sure.
you feel like an Anglican ghost. The rhythm is very different here from the rest. It somehow fits, I guess, but it's still a sudden jump in sound, and I can't think of anyway to keep the strong image and wording here while keeping to the meter at the same time.

You take the Word of Israel,
sung in a pianist's key,
the fleshless glory of the Christ
up there in coloured glass. This whole stanza is kinda funny-sounding, especially since the more energetic mood of the lines (I believe this is in ballad meter) contrasts with the more relaxed tone of the rest of the poem.

But man always intrudes.
Man made the church, you know,
played the song which sung the Word. At this point, though, the flitting between the different foot-lengths is much sweeter, fitting the tone of the rest of the poem well. The spondee starting the earlier line gives it the same sort of gravity as the succeeding, and the pointed barb of the shorter line in the first fits its message perfectly. Making the meter a straight shot all throughout might be better, but for here, it won't be.
And Christ Himself was flesh, The sudden brevity here is off, especially with the earlier line playing very strongly with the spiritual side of man's character -- the Word having been man should, in my mind, have the same lyrical treatment as man singing the Word. Flesh is a good, breathy-sounding ending though: maybe "And Christ Himself was blood and flesh,"?
the glory holding like a stone For symmetry's sake, I'd love to see this be a perfect metrical mirror to the stanza's second line. But if you're going to follow my suggestion on this stanza's third line without removing the shortness of the poem's first two, just shortening this would, I believe, be enough.
in grey morose tableaux.

In short, perhaps for the first stanza's first line, iambic trimeter for the first two lines, then tetrameter for the next two (with the third losing the sudden switch to trochaic), then, well, I'm still not that sure about the fourth. Either of the two for the second stanza, but never both as in ballad meter: it doesn't fit. Finally, keep the variations of the first three lines of the last one, bulk up the fourth, then (maybe) trim to trimeter the last two. That's not exactly making the meter one strict measure, but at least it's consistently iambic, and the changes in line-lengths, more determined. Thanks for the good read!


Suggested last line edit:
"But man always intrudes.
Man made the church, you know,
played the song which sung the Word.
And Christ Himself was blood and flesh,
His grace held like a stone
in grey morose tableaux."

Beautiful imagery in the first stanza. Really brings one into the scene. Flowed well until the third stanza. Seemed to get a little choppy. I'm sure you were going for that effect, so I suggest a little reworking there while keeping the meaning the same. Wonderful topic and very peaceful feeling emanating from your words.

A church of rounded stones
in grey morose tableaux,
but on this hot Epping morning,
a stone's throw from the dozing woods,
you feel like an Anglican ghost.

You take the Word of Israel,
sung in a pianist's key,
the fleshless glory of the Christ
up there in coloured glass.

But the churches of man intrude again
playing the song which sung the Word.
For Christ Himself was flesh and glory
holding like a stone
in grey morose tableaux.