I looked for him the way some people look for ghosts
and dread meeting celebrities.
They said the church was his house,
that he was in the air
all around us,
and we could hear him whisper.
I knelt by the altar
like the adults who wept there,
playing make believe.
I opened the 6-foot grand piano
and played from mom's sheet music.
She told me once that she saw him
emerge from the cross
and that it bled electric red.
He asked her if she was ready for heaven—
she asked for more time
to raise her kids, to see us get saved.
I never stared directly
at that cross again for fear
of what otherworldly things I might see.
I climbed the steps to the pulpit
where only one man was allowed to stand.
On tiptoes, I looked over the empty pews
and said prayers
through a cold microphone
into the air
all around me.
I looked for him the way people look for funnel clouds
and dread seeing the dead one day.
Was he there, above me
all the time wordless,
waiting for me to discover fire
and finally
earn his love?
They said it was His house,
the church—
that He was in the air
all around us,
and we could hear him whisper
if we believed
that we could hear.
I looked for God the way some people look for ghosts
and dread meeting celebrities.
I knelt by the altar
like the adults who wept there,
playing make believe,
seeking
an experience of my own.
I opened the 6-foot grand piano
and played from the hymnal
or from my mom's sheet music
that always sat at the end of the front left pew.
She told me once that she saw Him
come out of the 20-foot tall cross
behind the choir during a service
and that it bled electric red.
She said He asked her if she was ready for Heaven—
She asked for more time.
Sometimes I climbed up the steps to the pulpit
where only one man was allowed to stand.
On tiptoes, I looked out at the empty pews
and said prayers
into the unresponsive microphone.
I looked for God the way people look for funnel clouds
and dread seeing the dead one day,
the way I never stared directly at that cross again
for fear
of what otherworldly things I might see.
I grew up in His house—
He was there, but only half-aware,
all the time above me,
all the time
wordless,
waiting for me to discover fire
and finally
earn His love.
(08-30-2016, 12:49 PM)lizziep Wrote: This reminds me of a certain Louise Gluck piece that pretty much deals with the same topic -- I think it involved God wanting us to make the first move, too! It was somewhere in "The Wild Iris", perhaps after one of the Vespers.
They said it was His house, I always like to decapitalize pronouns when referring to God -- it just feels right. Perhaps because it's in English, and I don't think God cares much for courtesies diluted by translation -- or perhaps it's because in the original languages, there was no capitalization, so it develops a sense of familiarity (or, in the case of many prophecies, ambiguity) that adds a certain God-reaching-down-to-us sort of weight.
the church—
that He was in the air
all around us,
and we could hear him whisper
if we believed
that we could hear. This last line is completely unnecessary.
I looked for God the way some people look for ghosts
and dread meeting celebrities. I like these middle lines -- again, familiarity. And on that same tone, since with all this talk of churches and, duh, the title, I think replacing all mentions of God in the piece with pronouns would make the piece reach out more, a la above, perhaps make its audience more definite.
I knelt by the altar
like the adults who wept there,
playing make believe,
seeking
an experience of my own. I just noticed that removing the last line of the first stanza also develops a certain airy sense that you don't really emphasize throughout, even with all this talk of air and cloud and hearing. I think removing a line in this stanza -- perhaps "playing make believe", which also concretizes the speaker's disbelief in a way that removes ambiguity too much -- would enhance that sense. And if done, maybe fusing "seeking / an experience of my own", since the division feels kinda forced.
I opened the 6-foot grand piano I prefer organs. They're just so much cooler.
and played from the hymnal
or from my mom's sheet music
that always sat at the end of the front left pew. These last four lines sound routine. I can't tell if that's a good or bad thing, although "routine" by itself kinda implies bad.
She told me once that she saw Him
come out of the 20-foot tall cross
behind the choir during a service
and that it bled electric red. I kinda like the imagery here -- I'm imagining the Image of Edessa passing slowly out of the shadow, staring her down like God's all grumpy; and the mother'd be all weirded out, thinking "I've never imagined Jesus like this!" -- but I don't like the way it's said. "behind the choir during a service / and that it bled electric red" may be the problem: the color red is much too distant from its subject, cross, with the pronoun opening up the somewhat jarring images of either the choir or the service suddenly bleeding.
She said He asked her if she was ready for Heaven—
She asked for more time. And here, the stanza sorta falls flat. There's a lot of mystery and tension with Jesus slowly showing his face from behind a cross, transmuting its earthly wood an active red -- but then, all he does is ask, and a stupidly commonplace question at that? And the woman's answer isn't even all that special, all that wild, all that emotional. Perhaps it says something about the mother's faith, how she asks for more time, but I remember Saints asking for more time too, not because they were afraid to die, but because they felt like they had much more work to be done, so that I don't think the action currently here is even important. I wouldn't recommend just removing this, though, as that tension does need to be released: some hotter action, perhaps.
Sometimes I climbed up the steps to the pulpit Perhaps remove "sometimes"?
where only one man was allowed to stand. I can't help but think that this is the sort of church that ordains women, and that somehow using "man" instead of "person" makes the piece less vivid.
On tiptoes, I looked out at the empty pews
and said prayers
into the unresponsive microphone. I also can't help but think that "unresponsive" maybe hammering that whole "tight-lipped God" thing a bit too much.
I looked for God the way people look for funnel clouds Don't you mean funnel cake? Alright, funnel cake here, funnel clouds there. And more seriously, I'm keeping to the suggestion of replacing all "God"s with "him"s.
and dread seeing the dead one day, Whoa nelly
the way I never stared directly at that cross again Maybe remove "directly"? But it makes for a nice rhythm, so...
for fear
of what otherworldly things I might see. Or perhaps "what other worldly things". Which makes the current wording really, really nice, even if its length is made grotesque by the shortness of the last one.
I grew up in His house—
He was there, but only half-aware, This feels like the line was constructed just for the rhyme, and honestly, the sentiment feels incomplete.
all the time above me,
all the time
wordless, The break here feels kinda cheap, but it works, so fine, I'll take it.
waiting for me to discover fire Fire that produces smoke, of course -- smoke is prayer, after all. That, or God just really loves the smell of burning flesh.
and finally
earn His love. But yeah, these last three lines are what really introduce that whole Gluck comparison. Overall, lovely.
Hi Lizzie just a few comments for you. I didn't really read RiverNotch's critique though I did see his mention to Louise Gluck's The Wild Iris collection. I can see where he's getting that vibe from this piece (I've read that collection maybe 300 times by now--sounds a bit like "September Twilight" in tone). Okay back to your poem.
(08-30-2016, 12:49 PM)lizziep Wrote: They said it was His house,
the church— --The title makes this unnecessary. I think it reads better anyway just moving directly from line 1 to 3
that He was in the air
all around us,
and we could hear him whisper--This feels like one of those poems where I think the edit is meant to chip away to the essence. I think it would be more evocative to end the strophe on whisper and cut the next two lines
if we believed
that we could hear.
I looked for God the way some people look for ghosts
and dread meeting celebrities. -- I really like the originality of these thoughts. I would consider making them your opening lines.
I knelt by the altar
like the adults who wept there,
playing make believe,--Again too much narrative will kill this. I would consider ending the strophe here.
seeking
an experience of my own.
I opened the 6-foot grand piano
and played from the hymnal
or from my mom's sheet music--even if you are relating true narrative it probably makes more thematic sense to only use the mom's sheet music as it implies that you are following a paternal pattern not making your own way yet.
that always sat at the end of the front left pew.--doesn't add anything
She told me once that she saw Him
come out of the 20-foot tall cross
behind the choir during a service
and that it bled electric red.--nice visual.
She said He asked her if she was ready for Heaven— --Maybe tighten up a bit by cutting She said. This would be a good place to break and have the following line stand alone.
She asked for more time.
Sometimes I climbed up the steps to the pulpit
where only one man was allowed to stand.
On tiptoes, I looked out at the empty pews--maybe over instead of at
and said prayers
into the unresponsive microphone.
I looked for God the way people look for funnel clouds
and dread seeing the dead one day,--for parallel structure possibly do a break here.
the way I never stared directly at that cross again
for fear
of what otherworldly things I might see.--These lines probably need to be moved closer to the mother's experience above and woven in.
I grew up in His house—
He was there, but only half-aware,
all the time above me,
all the time
wordless,
waiting for me to discover fire
and finally
earn His love.--This all could be tightened some from I grew up to the end but I find it a satisfying ending--so probably just minor style cuts.
~For rowans, who shares my love of empty sanctuaries.
I like and write poems about belief and unbelief so these themes will always draw me in. I hope some of the comments help with revision.
In the church
He whispered to us
if we believed, they said.
In the air all around us,
I looked for God like people look for ghosts.
I played from the hymnal
or mom's sheet music, she sitting
at the end of the front left pew
where she once saw Him,
she said,
emerge from the cross
behind the choir during service
and asked if she was ready for Heaven.
She needed more time.
Sometimes I climbed the steps to the pulpit,
tiptoe, looking out at empty pews
and said prayers
through a cold microphone
to the air all around us.
I looked for God like people look for ghosts.
I rather enjoyed this poem. Maybe because it reminds me of growing up in a small country baptist church. I can remember doing most of those things and seeking the same experiences.
I loved many of the lines... "I looked for God like people look for ghost" I think you did a great job at expressing wanting to believe just like all the others and how it's often so many acting out based on what others do wanting to fit in. Things come true not because they are but because we believe they are ... Some lines aren't needed and you might could switch some sentences out....but I think a great job expressing....I enjoyed it.
(09-01-2016, 09:04 AM)maximuswolf Wrote: Maybe because it reminds me of growing up in a small country baptist church.
That's exactly what it was, too!!! It was technically a "community" church, but they had previously been baptist, and most there were. And both my mom's dad and my dad's dad were ordained Baptist ministers. So, when I say that I grew up in the church, I MEAN it.
We must have gone to the same church, at least in spirit >< >< ><
Yeah, I will switch a few things up and tighten.
I'm glad the poem reached you -- thanks for letting me know what worked.
'I never stared directly . . . the air all around me' hit me pretty good. Have you ever had a hole in your heart that was crusting over, and then someone comes in with a spoon and just srapes all the crust off, leaving a fresh and somehow refreshing wound in the same place? Pretty good . . .
Overall, lovelier! the cuts on the choir stanza and the isolation of the funnel clouds [cake] thing really bring the heat. Two new issues for me, though: the rhythm of the last four lines of the seventh stanza, the fragmentation of the clause feels a little uneasy (perhaps fuse the last two lines? or even just remove them); and the movement of the reader's mind-eye, it feels a little irregular (first two stanzas a general scan; the third, "kneel", and I look down; the fourth, fifth, and sixth, all along the piano, I look up and forward; the seventh, I look slightly higher up; and the last two, general scans, though now of the sky) -- though that second one, perhaps it would be cured with deeper analysis. Again, lovelier!
(10-07-2016, 05:11 AM)CRNDLSM Wrote: 'I never stared directly . . . the air all around me' hit me pretty good. Have you ever had a hole in your heart that was crusting over, and then someone comes in with a spoon and just srapes all the crust off, leaving a fresh and somehow refreshing wound in the same place? Pretty good . . .
I have had these wounds, yes. And I know the good/bad feeling of having them re-opened. I hope this one heals over a little more soundly this time. ><
Thanks for letting me know which parts are working for you and for taking the time to read.
(10-07-2016, 10:44 PM)RiverNotch Wrote: Overall, lovelier! the cuts on the choir stanza and the isolation of the funnel clouds [cake] thing really bring the heat. Two new issues for me, though: the rhythm of the last four lines of the seventh stanza, the fragmentation of the clause feels a little uneasy (perhaps fuse the last two lines? or even just remove them); and the movement of the reader's mind-eye, it feels a little irregular (first two stanzas a general scan; the third, "kneel", and I look down; the fourth, fifth, and sixth, all along the piano, I look up and forward; the seventh, I look slightly higher up; and the last two, general scans, though now of the sky) -- though that second one, perhaps it would be cured with deeper analysis. Again, lovelier!
You know, I saw your funnel cake suggestion, and it just slipped my mind in the revision.
Can you say a little more about the kind of movement you WANT to see for the reader? More of a circle or up then down and back up?
Thanks for coming back to it River, and I'm glad some parts are working better. Thanks for your time and effort ><
(08-30-2016, 12:49 PM)lizziep Wrote: I looked for him the way some people look for ghosts I think the lead in here is too long for it to all occupy one line, maybe line break after 'for him'
and dread meeting celebrities. I would have 'or' instead of 'and' but that's just minor style point
They said the church was his house,
that he was in the air
all around us, I know you come back to this later in the poem but I feel like in this stanza the sentiment of this line is equally expressed by those before and after it
and we could hear him whisper. Again with the pace/rhythm, I would maybe just have 'that he was in the air,/ that we could hear him whisper'
I knelt by the altar
like the adults who wept there,
playing make believe. There's a sort of horrible [in a good way] dissonance between the playing and the weeping, I almost feel like there's more to say here
I opened the 6-foot grand piano Love the specificity
and played from mom's sheet music. Do you need 'sheet'? I am unsure
She told me once that she saw him Too many words, need a rephrase or perhaps a line break? Or maybe adjust the tenses 'she told me once; she'd seen him'
emerge from the cross and that it bled electric red.
He asked her if she was ready for heaven—
she asked for more time
to raise her kids, to see us get saved. Keep it personal. 'To raise us, see us saved', keep it laser tight
I never stared directly
at that cross again for fear
of what otherworldly things I might see. Not sure about this stanza; the imagery of the vision has already conveyed how startling it is, I think you can nail this in a single line. Say you never looked again. We know why.
I climbed the steps to the pulpit I think the previous two stanzas are the emotional heart of the poem, so now we are zooming back out and reflecting, clearly. It works, but I think three more stanza breaks is one too many perhaps?
where only one man was allowed to stand. We don't care about the preacher now that we've heard about the mother and the holy son. 'Where one stands alone' or similar would hit harder
On tiptoes, I looked over the empty pews
and said prayers
through a cold microphone I feel like it would definetly be 'into a' , but that you don't want to repeat yourself in the next line. 'through' feels wrong to me, I think this and the next line need balancing a bit
into the air
all around me. See, here, this works wonders. Now it strikes a lonely chord.
I looked for him the way people look for funnel clouds
and dread seeing the dead one day. I like the imagery but this two liner just kills the pace a bit for me, I think bundle it with the next stanza
Was he there, above me
all the time wordless, these three lines spell it out a bit too much for me, you can say this without saying it - eg with the empty microphone
waiting for me to discover fire fire? and finally
earn his love?
There's some powerful stuff in here that you are doing a good job with. You also are dealing well with the trickiness of having a past tense poem which subsequently contains a flashback (I too enjoy a challenge!)
Nonetheless I think there's still some nuts and bolts to tighten so that we are completely with you throughout, I think the last two stanzas are a bit away with the faeries at the moment and lack the visceral qualities of those preceding. Stay confident that your imagery can talk for you. Keep going, eager to see a revision.
(10-09-2016, 05:02 AM)Donald Q. Wrote: [quote='lizziep' pid='215553' dateline='1472528951'] I looked for him the way some people look for ghosts I think the lead in here is
Away with the faeries That's where I live, dude!
Don't hate.
Well, it seems I have two in favor of the ending and two opposed.....two and two, and now I must choose.
I guess I'll share where I was kind of "going" with that ending. My idea was that god was either waiting for the child to grow up (as in humanity growing up when they began discovering things like fire) or to do something worthy of interest (like be intelligent and adult enough to be able to discover something like fire, or bombastic enough to burn the whole place down). Basically, it's a wondering out loud if god didn't respond because the child was not worthy or interesting enough. Or adult enough. Or maybe the two are the same?
I am certain that there are many more things that could be said in here, I'm just trying to be careful not to ruin it with detail.
Thanks so much for spending the time, and for gracing my signature page with a lovely quote
< >
