How glad I am...edit 2. Thanks to leanne,acheb,duke,lizz,troph, cnl

[tectak]

God has gone; thank god my flim flam soul can be denied.
No worms nor maggots, the carrion convoy,
grave thieves that steal my flesh and history,
will any longer fill my thoughts with dread.

God has gone; he left the space in which he never was
exactly as he found it. No dusty shelves,
no crumbs on plates gone blue with mould,
no scribbled notes to litter up my life.

God has gone; I sleep alone and deep each night.
No prayers of  penance before I lose the light;
and, oh, how good that makes me feel.
To fall to slumber guiltlessly is heaven new defined.

God has gone; and all the jumbled junk he pushed into my life
is lost to me. I do not know and do not care
which parable is what or where, what skewed and false
judgemental threats may still be lying round.

God has gone; I look but not to find Him anymore.
Now I know that when I smiled upon a child,
or held a weakly grasping hand,
or kissed an ancient  wrinkled  brow,
or soothed a pain with loving balm,
or cheered a worthy besting for another's pride,
or lifted from the sea a cold and fading bird,
and warmed it 'til it flew from me,
or sang a quiet song alone, perhaps,
or in an evening throng,
with friends around a fire,
that this was me,
and what I had been all along.

I never asked for faith in god,
yet knowing he was never there,
how glad I am  that god has gone.

tectak2016




edit 1.02
How glad I am...

God has gone; thank god a soul like mine can be denied.
No worms nor maggots, the carrion convoy,
grave thieves that steal dead flesh and history,
will any longer fill my head with dread.

God has gone; leaving the space in which he never was
exactly as he found it. No dusty shelves,
no crumbs on plates gone blue with mould,
no scribbled notes to litter up my life.

God has gone; I sleep alone and deep each night.
No prayers before I lose the light;
and, oh, how good that makes me feel.
To fall to slumber guiltlessly is heaven newly named.

God has gone; and all the jumbled junk he pushed into my life
is lost to me. I do not know and do not care
which parable is where,what skewed and false
judgemental threats may still be found.

God has gone; I look but not to find Him anymore.
Now I know that when I smiled upon a child,
or held a hand that weakly grasped,
or kissed a wrinkled  brow above a tear,
or soothed a pain with loving balm,
or cheered a worthy besting for another's pride,
or lifted from the sea a dying bird,
and warmed it 'til it flew from me,
or sang a quiet song...alone, perhaps,
or in an evening throng, with friends around a fire,
that this was me, and what I had been all along.

I never asked for faith in god,
yet knowing he was never there,
how glad I am  that god has gone.

tectak2016

Original

[Leanne]

L8 lose?

L9 "To fall to slumber guiltlessly is heaven new defined." -- awkward. At the very least, I'd say new-defined, but as it's not a meter-dependent piece what's wrong with newly?

Perhaps a different person would read this as a lament, but to me it's a joyous liberation -- then again, I'm also anti-Muse enough to upset our bearded friend (not God, but Dale), so my bias is quite evident.

The last 10 or so lines are beautifully existential, sans angst, although the memory of angst is present in the first half of the poem -- perhaps it is a God-hangover.

Personally I question whether you really need "No dusty shelves, no crumbs on plates gone blue with mould, no scribbled notes to litter up my life." I enjoy the imagery but feel it is a little bit of a conceit and not required to convey meaning.

In L3, perhaps remove the word "can". I don't think certainty is too much here.

I will return in a while and throw more things at you, because I like this one

[tectak]

L8 lose?

L9 "To fall to slumber guiltlessly is heaven new defined." -- awkward.  At the very least, I'd say new-defined, but as it's not a meter-dependent piece what's wrong with newly?

Perhaps a different person would read this as a lament, but to me it's a joyous liberation -- then again, I'm also anti-Muse enough to upset our bearded friend (not God, but Dale), so my bias is quite evident.

The last 10 or so lines are beautifully existential, sans angst, although the memory of angst is present in the first half of the poem -- perhaps it is a God-hangover.  

Personally I question whether you really need "No dusty shelves, no crumbs on plates gone blue with mould, no scribbled notes to litter up my life."  I enjoy the imagery but feel it is a little bit of a conceit and not required to convey meaning.

In L3, perhaps remove the word "can".  I don't think certainty is too much here.

I will return in a while and throw more things at you, because I like this one

Lose. Bugger. I wouldn't care but I loked twice at it
It is a joyous piece...not a lament at all. A freedom anthem.
New defined...hmmmm....a bit of old english creeping in, fear I. To be candid, I talk like this sometiimes. Perhaps it is inexcusable so I will change it.

Source? Been watching the atheists winning on youtube. My team. This is my contribution to The God Delusion.

Oh. L3 Can do.

Thanks leanne. Encouraging.
Need to get critting now.
Best
tectak

[Achebe]

Hi tectak - this is hard for me to offer decent critique on, because I don't quite feel your sense of despair (god has been gone for 4 generations now...at least). I felt, however, that some tightening up would help anyway.

How glad I am...

God has gone; thank god a soul like mine can be denied. I think it's more powerful with the shorter opening: "God is gone". The 'thank god...' is a weak, misplaced attempt at humour.
No worms nor maggots, the carrion convoy,  I love 'carrion convoy'. Although worms and maggots are cliched, 'carrion convoy', whether intended or not, reminds me of 'to die and to go we know not where, the sensible warm motion to become a kneaded clod' from Measure for Measure, and a number of other literary references. It's more allusion than cliche, is what I'm saying.
grave thieves that steal dead flesh and history,  I think the 'dead' just draws out the line unnecessarily.
will any longer fill my head with dread.  similarly, 'any longer' adds nothing to the line.

God has gone; leaving the space in which he never was   ...I think it reads better without 'in which he never was' - there's nothing to be gained by insisting that he never was, because your reader isn't likely to be a fourteenth century nun who'd get shocked by it. I suppose 'leaving the space' is a bit ambiguous, but it sounds better with just that.
exactly as he found it. No dusty shelves,
no crumbs on plates gone blue with mould,  this is the second beautiful line in the poem
no scribbled notes to litter up my life.  I don't know if 'litter up' is a new expression or just an attempted clever way of mixing up 'light up' and 'litter', but it doesn't do anything great for me, particularly after the previous line.

God has gone; I sleep alone and deep each night.
No prayers before I lose the light;
and, oh, how good that makes me feel.
To fall to slumber guiltlessly is heaven newly named.  I found this entire stanza to be all tell, and no show. Also, not needed.

God has gone; and all the jumbled junk he pushed into my life  ....again, an unncessarily long line. I think you can change it to '...gone: the jumble pushed into my life'
is lost to me. I do not know and do not care
which parable is where,what skewed and false
judgemental threats may still be found.

God has gone; I look but not to find Him anymore.
Now I know that when I smiled upon a child, ....terribly cliched, this smiling upon a child.
or held a hand that weakly grasped, ....more cliche. Lending a hand to the weak.
or kissed a wrinkled  brow above a tear,  ....'wrinkled brow'? really? what next, 'pale cheeks'? 'bonnie lass'? The cliche made me cringe.
or soothed a pain with loving balm, ....I'd rather you used Tiger Balm. 
or cheered a worthy besting for another's pride,  ...I fall upon the thorns of life, I faint. The entire section from 'child' to here is one suppurating cliche after another
or lifted from the sea a dying bird,  ...the dying bird cliche I can live with, it's passable
and warmed it 'til it flew from me,
or sang a quiet song...alone, perhaps,
or in an evening throng, with friends around a fire,
that this was me, and what I had been all along. this is a nice conclusion to the stanza

I never asked for faith in god,
yet knowing he was never there,
how glad I am  that god has gone. ....I'd prefer 'now I'm glad he's gone'. The extra syllables make it an agonisingly slow read without adding meaningfully to the sonics of the line.

tectak2016

Original

[dukealien]

Odd... coming to this at version 1.02, read it as irony and it worked very well in that (unintended) context.  Even a hint of emptiness seemed present at the very last.  Lovely work, to be so fine even when misread.

Which is, I suppose, to say (in serious workshopping) that it's now so smooth the rejection can be missed by the uninformed and liberation misinterpreted as  loss denied.  Problem?

[tectak]

Hi tectak - this is hard for me to offer decent critique on, because I don't quite feel your sense of despair (god has been gone for 4 generations now...at least). I felt, however, that some tightening up would help anyway. Hi achebe. Thanks for this...all crit eaten. You couldn't feel my sense of despair? Good...there is none. This is an anthem on liberation and freedom. Joy is mine....or the characters

How glad I am...

God has gone; thank god a soul like mine can be denied. I think it's more powerful with the shorter opening: "God is gone". The 'thank god...' is a weak, misplaced attempt at humour. Weak and misplaced...maybe. But humour. No...not the intent. Hypocrisy is a possibility but as this whole story has been told many times before, the same old error-traps are there. You know the atheist's death wish...it's like joining the Automobile Association only when you car breaks down. That was the irony...like most irony, it gets wasted
No worms nor maggots, the carrion convoy,  I love 'carrion convoy'. Although worms and maggots are cliched, 'carrion convoy', whether intended or not, reminds me of 'to die and to go we know not where, the sensible warm motion to become a kneaded clod' from Measure for Measure, and a number of other literary references. It's more allusion than cliche, is what I'm saying. Again, there WILL be cliche in this. Deliberate cliche is only a repetition of what is acceptable to the highest number of readers and allusion is just one of the ways of hiding cliches. I don't want to hide them for the reason given,though I will take out maggots because flies don't lay eggs underground...my mistake
grave thieves that steal dead flesh and history,  I think the 'dead' just draws out the line unnecessarily.
will any longer fill my head with dread.  similarly, 'any longer' adds nothing to the line. By golly you are right. I forgot the "No" at stanza start. Stupid error. Thanks

God has gone; leaving the space in which he never was   ...I think it reads better without 'in which he never was' - there's nothing to be gained by insisting that he never was, because your reader isn't likely to be a fourteenth century nun who'd get shocked by it. I suppose 'leaving the space' is a bit ambiguous, but it sounds better with just that. Ahahhh. Now on this I am on firm ground. There is a very strongly implied adage in this. The line sets out to argue the need to create a god if there isn't one...part of the human condition. To exemplify the oddness of the concept a hint is given to a homeopathic god-space. You know, dilution to near zero BUT the space (or volume) retains potency. If that isn't clear then I failed, though I did try to get clarity of thought back by describing the "room" in which god was assumed to live as untouched by his presence. No signs whatsoever that he had been there. No crumbs on plates, no dust on shelves...just a pristine and sealed god-space waiting for an occupation that never actually came. I referred to crumpled notes to humanise the metaphor....if god had been there, I imagine he would have sent me a message, a scribbled note...and if that failed, then more and more scribbled notes...to no avail. If they had been there at all they would have been as inconsequential as litter. Now see what you have made me do? I am explaining wot I wrote...and that means the poem has failed.
exactly as he found it. No dusty shelves,
no crumbs on plates gone blue with mould,  this is the second beautiful line in the poem
no scribbled notes to litter up my life.  I don't know if 'litter up' is a new expression or just an attempted clever way of mixing up 'light up' and 'litter', but it doesn't do anything great for me, particularly after the previous line.Common parlance UK

God has gone; I sleep alone and deep each night.
No prayers before I lose the light;
and, oh, how good that makes me feel.
To fall to slumber guiltlessly is heaven newly named.  I found this entire stanza to be all tell, and no show. Also, not needed. I note and respect the opinion. Others may disagree because this stanza is PIVOTAL to the piece. It brings the reality of godlessness into the human psyche. It may not be original, but as I mentioned earlier, that only means that others HAVE thought the thought before me. I cannot change this or omit it simply because it demonstrates how difficult it is to lose god yet still feel obliged to redefine heaven. I could write another piece on this axiomatic musing alone. I won't.  

God has gone; and all the jumbled junk he pushed into my life  ....again, an unncessarily long line. I think you can change it to '...gone: the jumble pushed into my life' Agreed almost
is lost to me. I do not know and do not care
which parable is where,what skewed and false
judgemental threats may still be found.

God has gone; I look but not to find Him anymore.
Now I know that when I smiled upon a child, ....terribly cliched, this smiling upon a child.
or held a hand that weakly grasped, ....more cliche. Lending a hand to the weak.
or kissed a wrinkled  brow above a tear,  ....'wrinkled brow'? really? what next, 'pale cheeks'? 'bonnie lass'? The cliche made me cringe.
or soothed a pain with loving balm, ....I'd rather you used Tiger Balm. 
or cheered a worthy besting for another's pride,  ...I fall upon the thorns of life, I faint. The entire section from 'child' to here is one suppurating cliche after another
or lifted from the sea a dying bird,  ...the dying bird cliche I can live with, it's passable
and warmed it 'til it flew from me, to all the above...yes but the cliches ARE so patently passe that they are almost token representations of love, comfort, empathy, tolerance, concern and the GREATER need for real friends instead of false beliefs. I vindicated myself before submitting this so to some degree I was under a sturdy umbrella wating for the drops to fall. I must say, I didn't expect (or understand the use of) "suppurating". Still don't.
or sang a quiet song...alone, perhaps,
or in an evening throng, with friends around a fire,
that this was me, and what I had been all along. this is a nice conclusion to the stanza

I never asked for faith in god,
yet knowing he was never there,
how glad I am  that god has gone. ....I'd prefer 'now I'm glad he's gone'. The extra syllables make it an agonisingly slow read without adding meaningfully to the sonics of the line. Again. A "yes" to this; though there is a miniscule allusion to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wj05EY2aP7I, from which I got this final cliche

tectak2016

Original

Again. Thanks for the input. As you can tell, I will make changes. Credited.
Best,
tectak[/b]

[Achebe]

Oops...as I get older, my communication skills get worse.
I didn't mean 'sense of despair', actually. I meant 'sense of liberation instead of what the poet almost expects to have been a sense of despair but happily isn't.'
Rest all good, just clarifying my original point.

[Lizzie]

Hello tectak. This piece is solid, so I just have a couple of thoughts to offer. I keep coming back to this piece.

How glad I am... -- is this the first line of the poem? If so, you have god uncapped in the rest of the poem.

God has gone; thank god a soul like mine can be denied. -- I think you can do better than 'be denied.' The verb is too static.
No worms nor maggots, the carrion convoy,
grave thieves that steal dead flesh and history, -- I like 'carrion convoy' very much and 'grave thieves' for sonics, as well as convoy/history. I much prefer this type of pairing than head/dread in the next line. Dread is a little cliche.
will any longer fill my head with dread.

God has gone; leaving the space in which he never was -- I think you should use a comma at the end of gone, since 'leaving...found it' is not a complete sentence.
exactly as he found it. No dusty shelves,
no crumbs on plates gone blue with mould,
no scribbled notes to litter up my life. -- I enjoy this whole strophe. I like particularly the slight nonsense of god never having been there but he found it and presumably wandered about a bit. And maybe a colon at the end of it?

God has gone; I sleep alone and deep each night.
No prayers before I lose the light;
and, oh, how good that makes me feel. -- this line is weak -- 'good' is bland and 'makes me feel' is commonplace. Maybe something that sounds more original.
To fall to slumber guiltlessly is heaven newly named. -- falling asleep instead of to fall to slumber? Seems more direct and less arcane.

God has gone; and all the jumbled junk he pushed into my life -- again, I like this paradox that god isn't and never was present, yet he/she/it is acting on the speaker
is lost to me. I do not know and do not care
which parable is where,what skewed and false -- being unreasonably picky, there should be a space before what.
judgemental threats may still be found. -- can you replace the passive tense here? It's forcing you to use a static being verb.

God has gone; I look but not to find Him anymore. -- here you capitalize Him but you use the uncapped god elsewhere -- intentional?
Now I know that when I smiled upon a child, -- a little too sticky sweet with the smiling at children bit
or held a hand that weakly grasped,
or kissed a wrinkled  brow above a tear, -- extra space in front of brow
or soothed a pain with loving balm,
or cheered a worthy besting for another's pride,
or lifted from the sea a dying bird, -- it's getting a bit overly congratulatory of the speaker around this point. To circumvent this problem, you might consider writing the piece in the 3rd person. You would have to weigh the risk of losing the immediacy of the 1st person. Just something to consider.
and warmed it 'til it flew from me,
or sang a quiet song...alone, perhaps, -- 'alone' is getting a little bit maudlin. If you keep 'alone, perhaps,' I'd set it off with dashes or parentheses.
or in an evening throng, with friends around a fire, -- I might be wrong, but I don't think there is supposed to be a comma before with.
that this was me, and what I had been all along.

I never asked for faith in god,
yet knowing he was never there,
how glad I am  that god has gone. -- love the last three lines. I think you've done the refrain of 'god has gone' well. There's an extra space in front of 'that.'

tectak2016

Original

Despite all of my nitpicking, very much enjoyed the piece. The voice rings authentic, self-assured, and confident.

Hope this helps some,

Lizzie

[trophos]

Really like this. The repetition at the top of each stanza is working for me, and it's less common than repetition at stanza end, I think, which makes it feel fresh (i.e., putting the reps up front is rarer and thus more interesting). Re: someone else's take on the irony (?) of L1 thanking god: I thought that was lovely, mildly self-deprecating, melancholic but not without humor. I enjoyed that choice. I particularly like how stanza 2 discusses the signs of the absence of god - precise, evocative presence of absence. Most of the poem is in a very natural iambic, as I'm reading it - for this reason, maybe, the last line of stanza 4 didn't land for me - L3 there broke the iambs a little - not strictly, I guess, but in 'which parable is where' the edges of iambs fall off a bit, it becomes round, especially with that internal rhyme - then the next line... I don't know, falls short of the aural and rhythmic interest of L3, I think is how to put it? In stanza 5 I'm torn: I like the long list, on one hand, but it also could feel a bit overdone, in this otherwise spare poem. It seems like a place where less could really powerfully be more. I see how the last three lines wrap everything up neatly, but I wonder how it would read if you ended it at the end of stanza 5 - and now I think of it I could see that working well with the long list: then that stanza has already upped the ante by being longer and more detailed than the others, so it would make sense as an ending. I also like ending on the 'I', rather than the god, since it seems to me that's the heart of the poem.

Lovely and evocative piece, thanks for sharing. 


How glad I am...

God has gone; thank god a soul like mine can be denied.
No worms nor maggots, the carrion convoy,
grave thieves that steal dead flesh and history,
will any longer fill my head with dread.

God has gone; leaving the space in which he never was
exactly as he found it. No dusty shelves,
no crumbs on plates gone blue with mould,
no scribbled notes to litter up my life.

God has gone; I sleep alone and deep each night.
No prayers before I lose the light;
and, oh, how good that makes me feel.
To fall to slumber guiltlessly is heaven newly named.

God has gone; and all the jumbled junk he pushed into my life
is lost to me. I do not know and do not care
which parable is where,what skewed and false
judgemental threats may still be found.

God has gone; I look but not to find Him anymore.
Now I know that when I smiled upon a child,
or held a hand that weakly grasped,
or kissed a wrinkled  brow above a tear,
or soothed a pain with loving balm,
or cheered a worthy besting for another's pride,
or lifted from the sea a dying bird,
and warmed it 'til it flew from me,
or sang a quiet song...alone, perhaps,
or in an evening throng, with friends around a fire,
that this was me, and what I had been all along.

I never asked for faith in god,
yet knowing he was never there,
how glad I am  that god has gone.

tectak2016

Original
[/quote]

[tectak]

hello trophos and thank you. Your in-depth comments are mych appreciated.I hear, particularly, your  desire to read this piece as the writer intended rather than translate it in to your own preferred genre...and that is exactly the kind of crit that is most useful to me.Expect changes and credit.
Best,
tectak
 

Really like this. The repetition at the top of each stanza is working for me, and it's less common than repetition at stanza end, I think, which makes it feel fresh (i.e., putting the reps up front is rarer and thus more interesting). Re: someone else's take on the irony (?) of L1 thanking god: I thought that was lovely, mildly self-deprecating, melancholic but not without humor. I enjoyed that choice. I particularly like how stanza 2 discusses the signs of the absence of god - precise, evocative presence of absence. Most of the poem is in a very natural iambic, as I'm reading it - for this reason, maybe, the last line of stanza 4 didn't land for me - L3 there broke the iambs a little - not strictly, I guess, but in 'which parable is where' the edges of iambs fall off a bit, it becomes round, especially with that internal rhyme - then the next line... I don't know, falls short of the aural and rhythmic interest of L3, I think is how to put it? In stanza 5 I'm torn: I like the long list, on one hand, but it also could feel a bit overdone, in this otherwise spare poem. It seems like a place where less could really powerfully be more. I see how the last three lines wrap everything up neatly, but I wonder how it would read if you ended it at the end of stanza 5 - and now I think of it I could see that working well with the long list: then that stanza has already upped the ante by being longer and more detailed than the others, so it would make sense as an ending. I also like ending on the 'I', rather than the god, since it seems to me that's the heart of the poem.

Lovely and evocative piece, thanks for sharing. 


How glad I am...

God has gone; thank god a soul like mine can be denied.
No worms nor maggots, the carrion convoy,
grave thieves that steal dead flesh and history,
will any longer fill my head with dread.

God has gone; leaving the space in which he never was
exactly as he found it. No dusty shelves,
no crumbs on plates gone blue with mould,
no scribbled notes to litter up my life.

God has gone; I sleep alone and deep each night.
No prayers before I lose the light;
and, oh, how good that makes me feel.
To fall to slumber guiltlessly is heaven newly named.

God has gone; and all the jumbled junk he pushed into my life
is lost to me. I do not know and do not care
which parable is where,what skewed and false
judgemental threats may still be found.

God has gone; I look but not to find Him anymore.
Now I know that when I smiled upon a child,
or held a hand that weakly grasped,
or kissed a wrinkled  brow above a tear,
or soothed a pain with loving balm,
or cheered a worthy besting for another's pride,
or lifted from the sea a dying bird,
and warmed it 'til it flew from me,
or sang a quiet song...alone, perhaps,
or in an evening throng, with friends around a fire,
that this was me, and what I had been all along.

I never asked for faith in god,
yet knowing he was never there,
how glad I am  that god has gone.

tectak2016

Original

[/quote]

[tectak]

Hello tectak. This piece is solid, so I just have a couple of thoughts to offer. I keep coming back to this piece.

How glad I am... -- is this the first line of the poem? If so, you have god uncapped in the rest of the poem.

God has gone; thank god a soul like mine can be denied. -- I think you can do better than 'be denied.' The verb is too static.
No worms nor maggots, the carrion convoy,
grave thieves that steal dead flesh and history, -- I like 'carrion convoy' very much and 'grave thieves' for sonics, as well as convoy/history. I much prefer this type of pairing than head/dread in the next line. Dread is a little cliche.
will any longer fill my head with dread.

God has gone; leaving the space in which he never was -- I think you should use a comma at the end of gone, since 'leaving...found it' is not a complete sentence.
exactly as he found it. No dusty shelves,
no crumbs on plates gone blue with mould,
no scribbled notes to litter up my life. -- I enjoy this whole strophe. I like particularly the slight nonsense of god never having been there but he found it and presumably wandered about a bit. And maybe a colon at the end of it?

God has gone; I sleep alone and deep each night.
No prayers before I lose the light;
and, oh, how good that makes me feel. -- this line is weak -- 'good' is bland and 'makes me feel' is commonplace. Maybe something that sounds more original.
To fall to slumber guiltlessly is heaven newly named. -- falling asleep instead of to fall to slumber? Seems more direct and less arcane.

God has gone; and all the jumbled junk he pushed into my life -- again, I like this paradox that god isn't and never was present, yet he/she/it is acting on the speaker
is lost to me. I do not know and do not care
which parable is where,what skewed and false -- being unreasonably picky, there should be a space before what.
judgemental threats may still be found. -- can you replace the passive tense here? It's forcing you to use a static being verb.

God has gone; I look but not to find Him anymore. -- here you capitalize Him but you use the uncapped god elsewhere -- intentional?
Now I know that when I smiled upon a child, -- a little too sticky sweet with the smiling at children bit
or held a hand that weakly grasped,
or kissed a wrinkled  brow above a tear, -- extra space in front of brow
or soothed a pain with loving balm,
or cheered a worthy besting for another's pride,
or lifted from the sea a dying bird, -- it's getting a bit overly congratulatory of the speaker around this point. To circumvent this problem, you might consider writing the piece in the 3rd person. You would have to weigh the risk of losing the immediacy of the 1st person. Just something to consider.
and warmed it 'til it flew from me,
or sang a quiet song...alone, perhaps, -- 'alone' is getting a little bit maudlin. If you keep 'alone, perhaps,' I'd set it off with dashes or parentheses.
or in an evening throng, with friends around a fire, -- I might be wrong, but I don't think there is supposed to be a comma before with.
that this was me, and what I had been all along.

I never asked for faith in god,
yet knowing he was never there,
how glad I am  that god has gone. -- love the last three lines. I think you've done the refrain of 'god has gone' well. There's an extra space in front of 'that.'

tectak2016

Original

Despite all of my nitpicking, very much enjoyed the piece. The voice rings authentic, self-assured, and confident.

Hope this helps some,

Lizzie

Hi lizzie, sorry for my late thank you. I am still working on this on (and three others) so changes will come. I don't recognise the ubiquity or uniqueness of ANY god and so it is merely a convenient descriptor for a worn-out mythical super-being....rather less important than Batman who has, at least, no pretenders I admit to capitalising Him for two reasons. Firstly, because if I had not I am sure the response would be "Who he?"...and quite right, too. Secondly, I wanted to draw the final lie out of a single line. By decapitalisng "god" as a present tense decision, I have isolated my disbelief by back-reference to the old dogma..."Him". I will therefore leave it as is.
Regarding the comma(s) in the piece, I must look again. I tend to read ALL my stuff out loud to the dog (who firmly believes I am talking to her...rather than to my wife who would rather I didn't) and I use commas to suggest a pause, rather than for any accepted grammatical nuance...though that as well.
Best,
tectak

[CNL]

How glad I am...

God has gone; thank god a soul like mine can be denied. I think this line would be more surprising if the opening didn't spoil that "God has gone" was an optimistic statement. That the speaker is glad their soul is being denied is an interesting idea, but the worms metaphor was a bit of a generic follow up for me. The idea that they steal history seems new, but not much of the rest. Maybe you could reword it so that the speaker is glad they won't steal his dead flesh and his history?
No worms nor maggots, the carrion convoy,
grave thieves that steal dead flesh and history,
will any longer fill my head with dread.

God has gone; leaving the space in which he never was  I think this was the best stanza. The metaphor is layered and uniquely expressed in a way I feel the others in this poem aren't. I've read your explanation and I still don't feel comfortable in my understanding of it, but the structure of the metaphor itself works regardless. I love first of all that you create this abstract space in which God never was, one layer, but then, in an even deeper layer, emphasize further points about the extent of the speaker's liberation by expounding on the space as if it were an ordinary room within a house.
exactly as he found it. No dusty shelves, I love "found it" right after we're told he was never in it in the first place.
no crumbs on plates gone blue with mould,
no scribbled notes to litter up my life. Of the three objects I liked the scribbled notes for the way notes are so closely related to thoughts, and to the kinds of stressful thoughts the speaker is glad to be rid of. I didn't quite discern such a connection with the mouldy plate, unless I'm missing some religious meaning with bread? Either way it was a very strong image.

I'm confused as to how dusty shelves are a sign of tampering? Crumbs and notes you leave behind so to say there aren't any seems to make your point. But empty shelves seem like a sign of something not having been there in the first place, no? I'm not criticizing the use of shelves as much as I'm just asking for clarity there.

Overall, I agree with you that an idea doesn't need to be original to be worth putting in a poem, just expressed with originality, as I think this section was in a way the others weren't as much. Here you had this unique metaphor of the space (and as Lizzie pointed out all the wonderful contradictions that were created by "in which he never was") and specific points about the difference between a person who is completely without baggage and a person who is still troubled, and apparently even deeper points that I didn't perceive.

I don't see as much specificity or creativity in the other ideas of the poem - a person glad their head won't fill with dread thinking about death, glad to sleep guiltlessly now that they've abandoned their faith, glad to be without the threats of Hell and such - these all seem pretty tired by comparison, not because they're unoriginal, but because they were, for me, unoriginal expressions of these common ideas. Their metaphors don't seem to take second steps, or contain images as striking as the moldy blue plate and the notes, or even really illustrate their topics; they just state them.

God has gone; I sleep alone and deep each night. I like the implication that the person once slept with God.
No prayers before I lose the light;
and, oh, how good that makes me feel.
To fall to slumber guiltlessly is heaven newly named. I like this as a topic, but it seems more stated than expressed here. I don't really feel the speaker's emotion.

God has gone; and all the jumbled junk he pushed into my life
is lost to me. I do not know and do not care
which parable is where,what skewed and false The underlined was really lovely. I assume you're playing on when people state where a Bible quote is located before using it in conversation? I like the way you comment on a particular habit of people with that line. It gave the line a sense of precision and cleverness that the first line didn't really have for me. That you found the stuff of religion to be jumbled junk just seems like a plain, redundant statement by this point in the poem.
judgemental threats may still be found.

God has gone; I look but not to find Him anymore. Love that.
Now I know that when I smiled upon a child,
or held a hand that weakly grasped,
or kissed a wrinkled  brow above a tear,
or soothed a pain with loving balm,
or cheered a worthy besting for another's pride, I thought this was the best image. It's not as familiar, and chooses a virtue very distinct from the others. I also think it's interesting the way it implies a believer might even attribute their own humility after a contest to God. Maybe the final line would have more impact if this list covered a more diverse array of virtues in general, or maybe even some negative things?
or lifted from the sea a dying bird,
and warmed it 'til it flew from me,
or sang a quiet song...alone, perhaps,
or in an evening throng, with friends around a fire,
that this was me, and what I had been all along.

I never asked for faith in god,
yet knowing he was never there,
how glad I am  that god has gone.

tectak2016

Original

[tectak]

Hello CNL.
All crit now eaten and edit 2 posted. Attempt made to clarify including some points you raised but my take is in blue especially for you


How glad I am...

God has gone; thank god a soul like mine can be denied. I think this line would be more surprising if the opening didn't spoil that "God has gone" was an optimistic statement. That the speaker is glad their soul is being denied is an interesting idea, but the worms metaphor was a bit of a generic follow up for me. The idea that they steal history seems new, but not much of the rest. Maybe you could reword it so that the speaker is glad they won't steal his dead flesh and his history?I hoped that the joyous release would be more apparent than the dirge but it's the best I can do. In this stanza there are two points. Not only does the character deny the existence of his (anyone's) soul but he goes further. He no longer worries that the maggots and worms miight steal his flesh and history...not because the concept may be a fiction, but because he does not, frankly my dear, give a damn.
No worms nor maggots, the carrion convoy,
grave thieves that steal dead flesh and history,
will any longer fill my head with dread.

God has gone; leaving the space in which he never was  I think this was the best stanza. The metaphor is layered and uniquely expressed in a way I feel the others in this poem aren't. I've read your explanation and I still don't feel comfortable in my understanding of it, but the structure of the metaphor itself works regardless. I love first of all that you create this abstract space in which God never was, one layer, but then, in an even deeper layer, emphasize further points about the extent of the speaker's liberation by expounding on the space as if it were an ordinary room within a house. Reference in my mind to Marie Celeste. All was as if the disappearence of the ship's body caused no changes to occur...everything in stasis but for the slow inevitability of time passing and the concurrent entropic decay. The contra expressed in this piece is that the god body was never there at all and the space allocated to the fictional presence showed no signs of occupancy when the door was opened.  
exactly as he found it. No dusty shelves, I love "found it" right after we're told he was never in it in the first place. Especially as the "he" is not capitalised. This is a mortal man examinining his mortal thoughts, who is still finding it hard to accept, however joyfully, that the allocation of space in his thinking, which by common indoctrination was created, was unnecessary...so now he has a clean, never before used room in his head...I believe there is a little hint of risky scarcasm in the character, almost a last ditch challenge to god....just in case  
no crumbs on plates gone blue with mould,
no scribbled notes to litter up my life. Of the three objects I liked the scribbled notes for the way notes are so closely related to thoughts, and to the kinds of stressful thoughts the speaker is glad to be rid of. I didn't quite discern such a connection with the mouldy plate, unless I'm missing some religious meaning with bread? Either way it was a very strong image.

I'm confused as to how dusty shelves are a sign of tampering? On the contrary, dusty shelves are a sign of dust...this metaphorical room where god was supposed to be was sealed, locked and presumably (and I wrote it) only fit for a god who had no need of sustenance....as far as I know god neither ate nor shat, but what do I know. I must emphasise that what the poem say is that there were NO plates, No dusty shelves, NO scribbled notes. I mean, IF god had ever been there the least you could expect when you opened up the door was a few thousand bits of crumpled up paper...I mean the character, in his lifetime, had heard a lot about the words of god.  Crumbs and notes you leave behind so to say there aren't any seems to make your point. But empty shelves seem like a sign of something not having been there in the first place, no? I'm not criticizing the use of shelves as much as I'm just asking for clarity there.

Overall, I agree with you that an idea doesn't need to be original to be worth putting in a poem, just expressed with originality, as I think this section was in a way the others weren't as much. Here you had this unique metaphor of the space (and as Lizzie pointed out all the wonderful contradictions that were created by "in which he never was") and specific points about the difference between a person who is completely without baggage and a person who is still troubled, and apparently even deeper points that I didn't perceive.

I don't see as much specificity or creativity in the other ideas of the poem - a person glad their head won't fill with dread thinking about death, glad to sleep guiltlessly now that they've abandoned their faith, glad to be without the threats of Hell and such - these all seem pretty tired by comparison, not because they're unoriginal, but because they were, for me, unoriginal expressions of these common ideas. Their metaphors don't seem to take second steps, or contain images as striking as the moldy blue plate and the notes, or even really illustrate their topics; they just state them.You gotta be careful with metaphors...in an extended state the singleton can take over a poem.

God has gone; I sleep alone and deep each night. I like the implication that the person once slept with God.God is everywhere and nowhere,baby, that's where he's at.
No prayers before I lose the light;
and, oh, how good that makes me feel.
To fall to slumber guiltlessly is heaven newly named. I like this as a topic, but it seems more stated than expressed here. I don't really feel the speaker's emotion.Try losing god

God has gone; and all the jumbled junk he pushed into my life
is lost to me. I do not know and do not care
which parable is where,what skewed and false The underlined was really lovely. I assume you're playing on when people state where a Bible quote is located before using it in conversation? I like the way you comment on a particular habit of people with that line. It gave the line a sense of precision and cleverness that the first line didn't really have for me. That you found the stuff of religion to be jumbled junk just seems like a plain, redundant statement by this point in the poem.All of your comments here are valid and correct from my standpoint and I hope that just a change in the vers. 2 will pin it.
judgemental threats may still be found.

God has gone; I look but not to find Him anymore. Love that.
Now I know that when I smiled upon a child,
or held a hand that weakly grasped,
or kissed a wrinkled  brow above a tear,
or soothed a pain with loving balm,
or cheered a worthy besting for another's pride, I thought this was the best image. It's not as familiar, and chooses a virtue very distinct from the others. I also think it's interesting the way it implies a believer might even attribute their own humility after a contest to God. Maybe the final line would have more impact if this list covered a more diverse array of virtues in general, or maybe even some negative things?
or lifted from the sea a dying bird,
and warmed it 'til it flew from me,
or sang a quiet song...alone, perhaps,
or in an evening throng, with friends around a fire,
that this was me, and what I had been all along.

I never asked for faith in god,
yet knowing he was never there,
how glad I am  that god has gone.

tectak2016

Original