Chorus

[Aish]

I broke off two of her fingers,

the green lacy hands reaching,
reaching,
trembling
beckoning me inside,
to the faded shadows where time stands
and attempts to be still.

Sticky saplings bed into my palm,
first outstretched,
then curled as a paw.

I wish to growl and unfurl my goddess...

to reach into the past
and chant holy words
beneath heaven's heavy quilt,
Raw and awakened in a newly formed world.

Dusk rises like an apparition,
cools the air into suspended crystals
dancing just above my bottom lip
curved, in both inspiration and awe.

Loam reaches out,
surrounds my feet and ankles, beckoning.
Come, be one and decay
beneath the wormy earth and rotting leaves.
Replenish the cycle.

One day, my loves...
one day I shall join you,
and sing the chorus of hosts.

[Erthona]

This is more my personal response to the poem, and not necessarily a valid critique, as I make certain assumptions which may be inaccurate, as well as biased.

"I broke off two of her fingers," although a good line in most instances, I questions it's value here, as it seems to set up an antagonism between the speaker and the naturalistic world of Shamanism where everything is sacred. Whether Native American or Druidism, it is not a way in which I can think that either group would conceptualize things. Yes, they personify nature, but the warrior/hunter prays and asks permission before killing something, usually with offerings. Even when gathering sage, prayers are offered,a sacrifice of tobacco is given, and the plant is treated in a respectful way. Respect is the word that characterizes this relationship between humans and the natural world. In contrast the opening line seems cavalier. Maybe it was meant to be playful, but within my experience, it just seems out of place. Additionally, this set up a tone that causes me to question parts of the poem, I probably would accept. Such as

"I wish to growl and unfurl my goddess..."

Even when doing something that is for the most part personal, the attitude would not be "I" want to do this,but rather I do this to benefit my people, such as in sun dance. The line above seems more about "self empowerment" which is more a western attitude, than a motivation I have ever seen in native people. This brings up the line

"One day, my loves..."

If this were coming from a Sufi, the idea of the divine as ecstatic would make perfect sense, but in my experience of the less sophisticated (as some would characterize it), I have never seen the spiritual sexualized, or romanticized in this way, although it is common in other traditions. Rumi has written some of the best poetry of this type where he conceptualizes the divine as the beloved, or the lover. This line would work well within most esoteric traditions.

As I said, if not for the first line sensitizing me, I probably would have overlooked these last two. It is however difficult to think of this as anything other than Druidism, as nothing incorporates nature worship (the tree ring as describe in the first few stanzas) and goddess worship.

I am willing to concede that this could be an accurate description of one of the modern melds that include aspects of Druidism,such as Neo-druidism, and to some extent could be reminiscent of what was practiced at places like Findhorn.

The poem does have nice descriptions and paints the picture well, I could almost feel the cold wetness.

Dale

[Erthona]

sorry, double posted somehow

[Aish]

Hi, Erthona. Thank you for taking the time to read and reply.

I wrote this back in 2001. I was coming out of a rough period in my life, just contemplating my existence and whether or not it meant anything. I didn't even mean to write anything. I was hiking by myself near Rocklin, CA and absentmindedly picked off a piece of a juniper tree. I kept fondling that fragrant little bit, walking, breathing, trying not to think at all. Before I went to sleep that night I sat down and wrote this in about 5 minutes.
I've been confronting some personal challenges recently and it seemed fitting to dig this out.
I appreciate your observations. I hadn't intended to mush any theology together, I had no plan whatsoever, honestly. I was in the middle of graduate work (theology), so I guess maybe some of that came out? I don't mind working the kinks out. I've never edited this piece at all, so suggestions are welcome.

[addy]

I quite like this one Aish... earthy and indulgent. At some points I was sighing. I have very little to comment.

"I wish to growl and unfurl my goddess"... it's a highlight of the piece, but for such a powerful line it pulls back for some reason, trying to be prim. That's just the impression I got. The "loam reaches out" line is nice, but with the saplings reaching maybe another descriptor is appropriate. I like the "dusk rises like an apparition" line, but overall that stanza had the least to add to your scenario.... though it is indeed very pretty.

[tectak]

I broke off two of her fingers,

the green lacy hands reaching,
reaching,
trembling
beckoning me inside,
to the faded shadows where time stands
and attempts to be still.

Sticky saplings bed into my palm,
first outstretched,
then curled as a paw.

I wish to growl and unfurl my goddess...

to reach into the past
and chant holy words
beneath heaven's heavy quilt,
Raw and awakened in a newly formed world.

Dusk rises like an apparition,
cools the air into suspended crystals
dancing just above my bottom lip
curved, in both inspiration and awe.

Loam reaches out,
surrounds my feet and ankles, beckoning.
Come, be one and decay
beneath the wormy earth and rotting leaves.
Replenish the cycle.

One day, my loves...
one day I shall join you,
and sing the chorus of hosts.

Hi aish,
Though this may seem cowardly, I thought I would get some other crit's take on the piece before I made a fool of myself interpreting your thoughts. I am a bit pushed right now but I really think this is a worthy piece. I am curious about the last stanza and will read the whole thing until the line "one day my loveS" makes me aware of your overall sentiment. I will get back.
Best,
Tectak

[tectak]

I broke off two of her fingers,the coldness of this statement encourages the reader to expect an extended metaphor. It is an unusually bold opener without any prior indication of intent even from the title. On a complete read, this may be an undesirable construct. Title change?

the green lacy hands reaching,not sure that the "lacy" word can effectively describe even a metaphorical hand, though I can detect that you are avoiding the use of "fingers". Perhaps "green laceD hands" would work. Difficult.
reaching,
trembling
beckoning me inside,
to the faded shadows where time stands
and attempts to be still.cliche avoidance in evidence

Sticky saplings bed into my palm,
first outstretched,
then curled as a paw.no merit in this stanza that I can see.It comes and goes from no where to nowhere. It needs a connection with pre or post.

I wish to growl and unfurl my goddess...now, tell the truth...did you mean to write "growl" or was it a typo-ed "grow" and you just liked it I'll start with the honesty. I don't get "growl"

to reach into the past
and chant holy words
beneath heaven's heavy quilt,
Raw and awakened in a newly formed world.yes to this stanza. Something precious and of religious context emerges here. Yet to be established if this is theological.....I fear we are too far into the piece to develop this sufficient to the needs of an avaricious reader.

Dusk rises like an apparition,Thought not. We are back to nature. Frankly, you may as well omit the stanza above as to me it leads me off-road.I am back in your comfort zone again
cools the air into suspended crystals
dancing just above my bottom lip
curved, in both inspiration and awe.excellent stuff. Very very good observation and translation. I am envious

Loam reaches out,
surrounds my feet and ankles, beckoning.
Come, be one and decay
beneath the wormy earth and rotting leaves.
Replenish the cycle.good but not as fresh as the previous stanza. You raised the bar like the God who could do anything.....but could not make a stone that was so heavy that he could not lift it

One day, my loves...I am still stuck on this one. Why plural "loves"? My failing, I know.Oh, ok, why NOT plural.
one day I shall join you,
and sing the chorus of hosts.

A little jumpy in execution as though you were unsure where you were heading. This can be endearing if the piece is but a train of thought which is shunted along a single track. In this piece, though, we go through switch-points....and I am sick of my own metaphor here What I am trying to say is that by trying to combine philosophical free thought with theology both are weakened, IN SUCH A SHORT PIECE. I would like to see this expanded.....but with punctuation in evidence. I think that this constant, Carping by me on; the matter.... of punctuation! is probably a, Lost cause.
An enjoyable read, but I felt robbed of a great read.
Best,
Tectak

[billy]

I broke off two of her fingers, really string opening line

the green lacy hands reaching, lacy feels too petite, a suggestion would be leafy or something similar
reaching, reach
trembling tremble
beckoning me inside, beckon me...
to the faded shadows where time stands
and attempts to be still. this feels forced. i love the previous line and wonder if it could end the stanza
to the faded shadows where time stands.

Sticky saplings bed into my palm, bed feels too cosy
first outstretched,
then curled as a paw. not sure how to interpret these two lines

I wish to growl and unfurl my goddess... bugger me, i just caught on, you're a pissin howlin wolf thing. disregard the interpretation thing above. work perfectly with the title.

to reach into the past
and chant holy words
beneath heaven's heavy quilt,
Raw and awakened in a newly formed world.

Dusk rises like an apparition,
cools the air into suspended crystals
dancing just above my bottom lip
curved, in both inspiration and awe. nice slow down from the rush above, i can see an image of the air being sniffed

Loam reaches out, this feels untroo
surrounds my feet and ankles, beckoning.
Come, be one and decay
beneath the wormy earth and rotting leaves.
Replenish the cycle.

One day, my loves...
one day I shall join you,
and sing the chorus of hosts. not sure 'of hosts' is needed or actually adds anything.

okay; you may not be the wolf i mentioned but you are a howler, the chorus in the title gives the game away but it doesn't give the game up straight away...and that's a great thing. i like how the piece made me think. that you wrote it when and as you did has no relevance really, i read it and that's what i got, if you'd have been in nirvana on Everest i'd have got the same thing (wrong or right) you used beckoning twice which didn't screw the nut for me. i may have seen stuff that wasn't there or wasn't intended but see the buggers i did. so that's that. i think it need a small edit to make it an extremely good poem

thanks for the read.

[Philatone]

hey aish!

I broke off two of her fingers, ...interesting opening; I think it draws in the reader well. I question the importance of "her"; reading the rest of the poem, I didn't get a meaningful enough connection to keep it; it's a relationship that didn't strike me as developed or crucial. I'm probably just missing something though

the green lacy hands reaching,
reaching,
trembling
beckoning me inside,
to the faded shadows where time stands
and attempts to be still....I get the intention, but "attempts" strikes me as needing some force for your purpose. it almost reads to me as an afterthought.

Sticky saplings bed into my palm,..like the image
first outstretched,
then curled as a paw....again may just be me, but I felt this comparison could be spiced or be made even more exact. the "paw" threw me off; something that describes this interaction with your "palm" more could be interesting, while also having a closer relationship to "curling"

I wish to growl and unfurl my goddess......"unfurl my goddess" is wonderful. the "growl" was a little beyond me

to reach into the past
and chant holy words
beneath heaven's heavy quilt,
Raw and awakened in a newly formed world. ..this part itself has a raw energy to it, partly because it hides its origins. I'm trying to find what brings this about: the first act of destruction (the breaking off of fingers?)? the sudden connection to nature held in a hand?

Dusk rises like an apparition, ...fitting with the quilt and shadows of before
cools the air into suspended crystals
dancing just above my bottom lip
curved, in both inspiration and awe....is the comma in the right position? I'm seeing it more as before "curved" than after. nature is given a hypnotic effect of sorts

Loam reaches out,
surrounds my feet and ankles, beckoning....not sure how I feel about the repetition of "beckoning"
Come, be one and decay
beneath the wormy earth and rotting leaves.
Replenish the cycle.

One day, my loves......not sure if the ellipsis is necessary
one day I shall join you,
and sing the chorus of hosts. ..last two stanzas again bring in this sinister, even violent, relationship with nature. I like; it's strong and feels original to me.

a nice read. hope some of this may be helpful

[Aish]

Thanks for all the feedback, guys and gals! I will begin working on a few problem areas and addressing your comments

[heslopian]

I broke off two of her fingers,

the green lacy hands reaching,
reaching,
trembling Should a comma go here?
beckoning me inside,
to the faded shadows where time stands
and attempts to be still. Excellent image from "to the" to "be still". Serene and almost holy.

Sticky saplings bed into my palm,
first outstretched,
then curled as a paw. These and following lines about the transformation reminded me of the Apollo and Daphne myth, and Bernini's sculpture depicting them as she transforms. You convey the change with elegance and quiet beauty.

I wish to growl and unfurl my goddess... I think a comma should go after "unfurl", otherwise this line could be supposed to mean that the narrator's unfurling a goddess (which I assume isn't your intention? If it is then disregard this).

to reach into the past
and chant holy words
beneath heaven's heavy quilt,
Raw and awakened in a newly formed world. This verse has an air of cleansing about it which I liked, like taking a hot bath and emerging somehow new.

Dusk rises like an apparition,
cools the air into suspended crystals
dancing just above my bottom lip
curved, in both inspiration and awe.

Loam reaches out,
surrounds my feet and ankles, beckoning.
Come, be one and decay
beneath the wormy earth and rotting leaves. Everything from "come" to "leaves" is deliciously melancholy.
Replenish the cycle. For me this line has connotations of fascism and Nazi-esque coldness. Could just be me.

One day, my loves...
one day I shall join you,
and sing the chorus of hosts. Effective closing tercet.

Critique is JMHO. Thanks for the read.