06-13-2017, 11:24 AM
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]
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]