You live beneath the swelling

sky in a world without wind.

The firmament weakens
becomes too small

to cope with your immensity—

your singular existence.



Hands brush

against the tether:

this breakfast of blood,

your daily offering.

You rise


both God and worshiper,
alone in the unbearable light.


__________________
Minor edits based on Leanne's comments changed two verbs from present progressive to present tense.

I think "worshipper" has two "p"s. Other than that this is excellent. Song like. The last line is excellent, and the poem as a whole is darkly compelling. Thank you for the read Todd.

Thank you for the kind comments Jack. It seems both spellings are correct. Probably another example of regional usage differences.

(08-08-2011, 11:24 AM)Todd Wrote:  You live beneath the swelling

sky in a world without wind.

The firmament weakening

becoming too small

to cope with your immensity—

your singular existence.



Hands brush

against the tether:

this breakfast of blood,

your daily offering.

You rise


both God and worshiper,
alone in the unbearable light.


hard for me to be objective because i'm not a lover of religious poetry.
god-hood, into manhood and the last supper. really well written. i'm not well enough up on Christianity to say more. maybe one nit but i'm not sure, is 'becoming' needed on L, 4?

thanks for the read.

Thanks for the comments Billy. I actually had something a little different than religion in mind (though it uses some of the terms) it might not be coming across. This was another one from my flawed file.

(08-08-2011, 11:24 AM)Todd Wrote:  You live beneath the swelling
 -- I love the break here, it lets "swelling" work as both a gerund and a modifier
sky in a world without wind.

The firmament weakening
 -- but here, you might be better off with one less -ing, possibly "weakens"
becoming too small

to cope with your immensity—

your singular existence.



Hands brush

against the tether:

this breakfast of blood,

your daily offering.

You rise


both God and worshiper,
alone in the unbearable light.


The title gives enormous depth to the poem, with connotations of both humility and divinity (or perhaps the idea that they're the same thing, in the right kind of God). Though there are Christian overtones, I'm left with the impression of a more personal awakening, a dreaded shedding of innocence. I like it a lot

Thank you Leanne, I appreciate the comments. I think you're right with weakens. I may go with becomes also.

Best,

Todd

(08-08-2011, 12:24 PM)Todd Wrote:  Thanks for the comments Billy. I actually had something a little different than religion in mind (though it uses some of the terms) it might not be coming across. This was another one from my flawed file.

you have some very good flawed poetry

Well, there's also the shit poetry. I'll spare you that

why, that's probably on par with my best works

(08-08-2011, 01:23 PM)Todd Wrote:  Well, there's also the shit poetry. I'll spare you that

It always takes a lot of shit to grow a rose.

(08-08-2011, 01:27 PM)Leanne Wrote:  

(08-08-2011, 01:23 PM)Todd Wrote:  Well, there's also the shit poetry. I'll spare you that

It always takes a lot of shit to grow a rose.

I'd say at least a decade worth of poetry = one stunted ugly-ass rose.