The Crumbling Turnstile

[Mikeodial]

Sitting on coastal fields, atop chalk-lined cliffs,
a stone church remains, the crumbling turnstile of lives lived and past.
Entered together on a bright sunny day, devoid of teenage cares,
light beaming the only colors inside,
pouring, unobstructed through stained glass windows of yesteryear Saints.

All else is monochrome, like a sepia drawing,
chalk-colored walls replaced stations and images.
No sanctuary lamp, statues, even Christ was missing,
replaced by a cross, removed as if buried for all time,
leaving just His symbol, the suffering detached.

Silence resounded, amplified by whiteness now decisive as a Welsh chapel on Sunday,
but without the sound of voices raised in praise.
The old organ pipes silently past events, happiness, marriages, baptisms in worship …
Eucharist removed, apparently forever,
adds to an ambiance full of emptiness and loneliness; yet electric with hope.

Unfilled now with patrons declining in years,
visiting for Christmas and Easter, through a broken but open door,
hands shaking in fellowship,
while heads shake invisibly, silently … searching for meaning.
Meanwhile the Holy Spirit remains … Waiting patiently.

[Regallis]

When first seeing "monochrome", I thought of green because that is what we used for a long time in radar. Then looking up "sepia", I understood.

Walking through time, sometimes we make good choices and sometimes not so good. Losing the statues and candles and Christ doesn't matter because its the people that make the church. Snow laying a blanket, which will stick to the roof, because in those times they used it for insulation as long as they could. Nails were allowed to protrude to hold the snow in place. Though I wonder if there is still a roof. All the events took place there, all that were there will remember until the last one is gone. Sometimes I think the visitors are ghosts from a long time past. And this really works because they are waiting for the End of Days. My take is a old church long abandoned, old friends revisit days gone by.

[Nessfull]

Wow, this is really beautiful poem. I love the imagery in the second stanza, such bleakness yet hints of what was before. As for the last stanza, I think the "through a broken but open door" double-meaning is used really well, and flows nicely into the next line. Truly great stuff.

[beaufort]

Sitting on coastal fields, atop chalk-lined cliffs, [b I would leave out the comma[/b]
a stone church remains, the crumbling turnstile of lives lived and past.
Entered together on a bright sunny day, devoid of teenage cares, are those entering teenagers?
light beaming the only colors inside,
pouring, unobstructed through stained glass windows of yesteryear Saints.

All else is monochrome, like a sepia drawing,
chalk-colored walls replaced stations and images. would "replacing" be better?
No sanctuary lamp, statues, even Christ was missing,
replaced by a cross, removed as if buried for all time,
leaving just His symbol, the suffering detached. seems to me the cross is a symbol of suffering, with or without Christ on it, but I am not a theological scholar

Silence resounded, amplified by whiteness now decisive as a Welsh chapel on Sunday,
but without the sound of voices raised in praise.
The old organ pipes silently past events, happiness, marriages, baptisms in worship …
Eucharist removed, apparently forever, I know what you mean, but "organ pipes silently past events" seems awkward to me
adds to an ambiance full of emptiness and loneliness; yet electric with hope.

Unfilled now with patrons declining in years,
visiting for Christmas and Easter, through a broken but open door,
hands shaking in fellowship,
while heads shake invisibly, silently … searching for meaning.
Meanwhile the Holy Spirit remains … Waiting patiently. I think this stanza needs work - the meaning is clear, but it seems a bit too obvious in a way - maybe it is
the "C & E Christians" that I am reacting to.

I always enjoy your poems. Thanks for this one - just my opinions. Best.

---

Sitting on coastal fields, atop chalk-lined cliffs, [b I would leave out the comma[/b]
a stone church remains, the crumbling turnstile of lives lived and past.
Entered together on a bright sunny day, devoid of teenage cares, are those entering teenagers?
light beaming the only colors inside,
pouring, unobstructed through stained glass windows of yesteryear Saints.

All else is monochrome, like a sepia drawing,
chalk-colored walls replaced stations and images. would "replacing" be better?
No sanctuary lamp, statues, even Christ was missing,
replaced by a cross, removed as if buried for all time,
leaving just His symbol, the suffering detached. seems to me the cross is a symbol of suffering, with or without Christ on it, but I am not a theological scholar

Silence resounded, amplified by whiteness now decisive as a Welsh chapel on Sunday,
but without the sound of voices raised in praise.
The old organ pipes silently past events, happiness, marriages, baptisms in worship …
Eucharist removed, apparently forever, I know what you mean, but "organ pipes silently past events" seems awkward to me
adds to an ambiance full of emptiness and loneliness; yet electric with hope.

Unfilled now with patrons declining in years,
visiting for Christmas and Easter, through a broken but open door,
hands shaking in fellowship,
while heads shake invisibly, silently … searching for meaning.
Meanwhile the Holy Spirit remains … Waiting patiently. I think this stanza needs work - the meaning is clear, but it seems a bit too obvious in a way - maybe it is
the "C & E Christians" that I am reacting to.

I always enjoy your poems. Thanks for this one - just my opinions. Best.

[oxomiya]

Well done. The ending could be a little better. You can probably think of the previous stanzas as a set up for saying something really witty or profound in the last stanza.