The Ruined Church

[heslopian]

Like teeth through gums each pillar stands.
The floor has long ago vanished, (the floor is always there)
and where the dark brown pews once were, is and needed? make it an image, once gathered maybe
facing the altar like hard faced women,
their expressions sanded down (telly not showy)
through years of toil and wifehood,
only grass remains, kept green and fresh
by volunteers, all from the National Trust. telly not showy
No sermons have been read here
for some centuries. God has packed his suitcase and left. some is redundant

Trees surround like dumb tourists,
night hovers above the lonely circle,
and the moon illuminates a corpse,
lying where the priest would wait
to greet his flock in years now passed.
She wears high heels, a torn white dress,
hoop earrings and a lace stocking;
the other one is nowhere near.
Her make-up is smeared and her eyes open wide;
the windowless arches stare back like mourners.

you do so love your simile. and they are a great device to use.
reiteration on the other hand can suck hairy balls.
like
like
like
like
Like teeth through gums each pillar stands.
facing the altar like hard faced women,
Trees surround like dumb tourists,
the windowless arches stare back like mourners.

could at least two of them be made into metaphor?

roofless pillars lay broken and dead.
hard face women facing the alter

i hate doing this but it's the only way to show what i mean clearly, feel free to throw it away as always

Roofless pillars, broken, dead.
The weary floor long gone,
where dark brown pews once gathered,
wooden faced women facing the alter
stern expressions worn out and down
through years of wifely toil.
Only grass remains, kept green and fresh
National Trust volunteers do benediction
No sermons have been read here
for centuries. God has packed his suitcase and left.

what i wrote isn't as good as what you wrote but it's rushed and it was done more to show similes can be changed.
for me, the poem itself has a good feel to it, sad yet understanding and then we get what seems to be a sacrifice a desecration. it all changes. now it feels a little satanic and the good feel escapes. was she murdered
raped, and murdered.

i do like it and in reality the similes aren't too much of a put off. i was making a point with them.

thanks for the read as always jack.

Thanks for the feedback, Billy As for changing two of the similes, do you think it would work if I put commas after "mourners" and "surround," and then change "like" to "those"? I still want to keep the one syllable, even if "like" must be sacrificed. My poems are often structured around my idiosyncratic sense of rhythm; as I've said before, I establish my flow mostly by ear, which is a two-edged sword, I know.

By "floor" I meant the chapel floor, but I can see how that line would seem strange. I love your revised version: "Roofless pillars, broken, dead./The weary floor long gone." Much more succinct than my own. I'm tempted to do an edit, but I feel like that might be cheating, somehow.

The poem was inspired by a programme I saw about the Shropshire countryside. The ruined church here was one they explored. As I watched it, I thought what a neat setting it would make for a detective story. I imagined the prologue: a young man, wandering alone at night through the dense forest, comes across the ruined church, and just inside, illuminated by the moon, he sees a lady, dead. The description of the corpse was loosely based on a passage from Agatha Christie's "The Body in the Library," where a girl dolled up like a tart is strangled.