06-22-2017, 05:24 PM
(08-23-2016, 04:37 AM)tectak Wrote: 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