This Poem was Submitted By: James C. Horak On Date: 2007-02-17 11:46:57 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
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Barren Ground Despoiled into tidiness, grotesque shapes
of obtruding glass.
Unrelenting unchangingness against a sky
changing to the very last.
Piercing spires indelicate to ascendency
to take like Babel's climb
Long lusts of pile-on encroaching upon
what holds to Heaven all sublime.
Mortals long to spread earthly and beyond
matters solemnly unhesitant,
To the knowing of self's purpose and of
God's momentless firmament.
While the lesson in the grain of sand and
on the little sparrow.
Are lost in some new sarcophagus of faith
wrought with menacing tower
That gives no loving cradle to God's Child
Who finds no warmth this night.
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Copyright © February 2007 James C. Horak
Additional Notes:
So many churches, so few mangers.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2007-02-19 17:07:38
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Mr. JCH,
I am one who believes the sky, sun, moon, clouds are far more splendidly holy in comparison
to a man made structure. Although a few churches are pretty fancy.
I like a preacher to maybe talk with or council but I don't want him as an intermediary speaking
for me to my personal God.
I find churches are businesses. Free dinner if you go to service.
There are exceptions also.
I have been 'let down' by church people. They always talk a big line and fail to act.
We must remember they are all run by humans and they fail miserably.
The children suffer the most especially with lost opportunity.
momentless firmanent [sky]is interesting...
Ms. Dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2007-02-18 19:51:16
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
JCH,
I am loth to comment on the content of poems - that amounts to little more, in my view, than the critiquer saying this is not a poem i would have written. Well then, go write yours, I say. Each poet's poem is his or hers; this is yours.
On the other hand, if we don't comment on content, and avoid commenting on comment for the sensible reason I expressed above, there are no critiques, no interchange. And I know, or sense, that poetry, for you, is a door to this kind of discussion. So, in light of the poet - who I believe is one who likes debate on his "substance" - I'll offer some of my views.
My observation about current belief and praxis is that there is far, far too much change. So the phrase "unrelenting unchangingness" is loaded with pure irony to me. The hierarchy in charge of the Catholic spires among the competition have done plenty to "change" a couple of millenia of praxis, if they have left some of the essentials unchanged. I'd like to give you a couple of lovely quotes from a great prose stylist, Alice Thomas Ellis (pen name), Anna Haycroft, describing the Catholic Church post-Vatican II:
"It is as though one's revered, dignified and darling old mother had slapped on a mini-skirt and fishnet tights and started ogling strangers. A kind of menopausal madness, a sudden yearning to be attractive to all. It is tragic and hilarious and awfully embarrassing. And of course, those who knew her before feel a great sense of betrayal and can't bring themselves to go and see her any more."
"Now the Church has lost its head, priests feel free to say what they think themselves, and they don't have any thoughts at all except for some rubbish about the brotherhood of man. They seem to regard Our Lord as a sort of beaten egg to bind us all together."
So much for "unrelenting unchangingness." A little too much relenting, too much changing, and, well, just too much in my view.
We need both, mangers and churches. Body and soul. Head and heart. Et cetera, et cetera. Unless you're saying, like Judas, "why waste the money on . . . " the Cathedral. It has to do with being in love, and reverence. Like Mary pouring expensive oil on Jesus' hair and feet, oil that could have been sold for the poor. To which Jesus responded, "you will always have the poor with you." And that from a man who loved the poor more than anyone who has ever walked the earth. And showed it, in the way that ultimately matters - with eternal, and not only mundane, comforts and consequences.
MSS
This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2007-02-18 17:55:35
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.83333
James we are all born children of God and no matter how many different religions one may come upon I do know there is only one God. I do agree with you though that there are too many churches some of which have no faith in God at all..........I do enjoy walking into a church of my own faith that I have not been in before, like when travelling away from home, I remember as a child the priest in my home church always saying we had three wishes if we stopped to pray...........the large pictured windows behind the alter have never frightened me and it is exceptionally inspiring when the sun filters through. your closing stanza says so very much in truth..........as a child of God one seeks peace within from the Father who has created us; we need to find that special place where His love abides. There are millions across the world who seek Him out and will never find Him for they do search in the wrong places. Please do not respond to this critique. I know I have failed you over and over again..........I do enjoy reading your work still though and will continue when I find it on my list. God Bless, Claire
Sometimes we find God in the most unusual places but He is always there by our side.
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2007-02-18 17:03:57
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.90000
Hi JCH...I have read this poem sevreral times over the last few days but still I am not sure I can do it justice with my critique. You have used some poetic devices that I find unusual and disturbing. "grotesque shapes of obtruding glass." I use to attend the Episcopal church (have since left there) and I thought the stained glass windows with Jesus and angles were quite calming. I always focused on them when I took communion and I always left the chruch with a sense of peace. I never did think the images were grotesque. You are right in your assessment of too many churches...it can be confusing for someone who is searching for a church and can't find solace in any. Your last line...that gives no loving cradle to God's Child...who finds no warmth this night...is troublesome to me but then I may be reading it differently that your intent. I may have totally missed the meaning of this poem and if that is so I apologize ahead of time! You may be wondering when I say I found the stained glass windows so moving and then left the church. It is a long story. The rector of the church left due to a decision that elected a certain bishop to head the church. Many of the parishenors left and I was one of them. He formed another church and I am very contented with my decision. Anway that is the Readers Digest version of why I left that church. You are a talented poet, I just don't think this is one of your best efforts.
cheers....Marilyn
This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2007-02-18 13:08:35
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.00000
James,
A fascinating piece- it definitely outlines the improprieties, if you will, of institution over the personal reliance that constitutes the membership. There have been many poets I have read whose revelations were similar. I often wonder of the great Christian poets of bygones, and where that apologetic has gone. I must say that when my sight wanes, I have found the focus similar, and allowed the constabulary to overshadow the constituency. Such a reprimand is very necessary piece.
At times, from opposite sides of the coin, the reckoning is seen differently, but I find that unless you have viewed all sides, an apt solution is foolishness. There is high value in your piece. It is well written for the layman, it makes its points with sufficient passion, and your analogies are easily read. Since I prefer the more complex moldings of you and others I had to look thrice to make sure I was reading a piece of yours… then I just relaxed to absorb the steeple bells.
Two items for me:
I particularly enjoyed the exchange of your root word “change†in lines three and four. It sets the readers up for a fluid ride that has some irony.
Then your line “to take like Babel's climb†throws an unwieldy word mix into the verse, not that the comparison itself is unwieldy, just the way it is written. It is my opinion that the rest of this flows so well, you could improve that line.
Excellent piece- and I too, at times, have found the sanitization of religion cloaks the basis of faith.
This Poem was Critiqued By: david m pitchford On Date: 2007-02-17 17:51:00
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
While there is no viable sentence in the first stanza, it is descriptive. Why use caps and periods at all? I find it distracting when anyone uses sentence punctuation in text other than syntactically viable sentences. Perhaps you could rebuild the lines by reincarnating the verbs you've deadened: "Despoiled into tidiness, grotesque shapes of glass obtrude." is not only a viable sentence, it is more animated for having a true verb in verb tense. Otherwise it seems to me a dead and horrid image - one I'm not interested in investigating any further. "Unchangingness" is a rather awkward contrivance meaning "stagnation" or "static"; I suggest finding an alternative. Again, it makes me slog through as a reader. I want to move through the images and feel what's there, not just sit in the car and gaze at baren slums where something interesting might once have happened but is not at present doing anything.
I can't tell what's trying to happen in the second stanza. I see a verb or two trying to pull something together, but it's still void and amorphous. What are "matters solemnly unhesitant"? Why slow down for "the knowing of . . ." instead of just moving straight into "know self's purpose"? Why is God's fimament 'momentless'? Do you mean timeless or of no importance? I actually like the ambiguity. Is it deliberate and does it serve a purpose? Why a period after sparrow?
I like the last stanza, but I wonder why it doesn't stand alone. What if you were to cut "While" and go from there? "Wrought with menacing tower"? Did you mean power? I'm getting a confusing reference to Babel here from tower. I kind of like that, but I'm still working too hard to get to the sense of it. "Who finds no warmth this night." jars me. Up to this point, I'm kind of feeling like God's Child has given up hope. As such, I don't think he deserves a strong verb (finds). Perhaps "lost to all warmth this night" would work better for me.
Overall, I think this verse deserves attention. It feels as though the poet is trying too hard to stay out of the poem, and to me this injures it. With a few more tweaks, it could be a really terrific poem.
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