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This Poem was Submitted By: James Edward Schanne On Date: 2005-01-17 10:13:38 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Sermonizing Sunday

Therapeutic electrolytes charging capacitors of spirit on the hunt where invisible photons are barging on unspace with an ineffable want those beings of nothingness scratch away with telekinetic head slapping smirks tempts the wouldbeness of the paint glass day while a robed voice trys to instill a perk but cold ears are plugged with sunny beaches parables turn to dreams among the rows where worshipful snores drown out all speeches a last word wakes morals skipped and then pose questions for the back ground noise of the day opportunity waiting to display

This Poem was Critiqued By: Lennard J. McIntosh On Date: 2005-02-07 22:07:13
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Re: Sermonizing Sunday “Therapeutic electrolytes charging capacitors of spirit on the hunt where invisible photons are barging on unspace with an ineffable want” *** Can it be that such energy is being transmitted toward receivers in the “off’ position? This reader is anxious to learn more. “those beings of nothingness …” *** Oh my! The poet does not think highly of the “turned off receivers … “with telekinetic head slapping smirks …” *** whose body language is not indicating a respectful attitude, in spite of the good news that is being spoken. “but cold ears are plugged with sunny beaches parables turn to dreams among the rows where worshipful snores drown out all speeches a last word wakes morals skipped and then pose” *** The poet’s frank description seems to equate to Google’s responding to “churches closing!” From a literary point of view, it’s as though an world-wide phenomenon is prototyped from a single church. It is remarkable material dealt with courageously. The choice of words and writing style evidence a scholarly approach to the subject. Congratulations! Len

This Poem was Critiqued By: Latorial D. Faison On Date: 2005-02-03 09:26:48
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
James, You did it. This reminds me of some of my older days in church as a younger child, when I was less interested for only childish reasons. However, I do suppose that this is still the typical Sunday for many people today. Once I went charismatic, I could not go back (smile). However, your poem still rings true for many of my friends. Actually, just last Sunday I was so tired, and I was really fighting to stay awake, because the Pastor's message was so good, but my eyes were so heavy, and just like your poem insists, I came alive with energy from some place near the end of his sermon, and I was glad, but I also hated that being tired caused me to miss a great deal of it. I stayed up too late the night before writing (smile). To begin with, I think that you have an excellent title. It's simple, yet captivating, and it rolls off the tongue to lead the reader into a great poem "Sermonizing Sunday." You stick to the title. You don't sermonize a sermon, but you sermonize the day . . . and you reveal throughout a myriad of thoughts and feelings that any worshipper or church attendee might feel or fathom on any given Sunday. "Therapeutic electrolytes charging" This first line truly set the tone for me, as first lines should. You come out with non topical or non spiritual words. They're scientific even, and you begin to disset the day with words like therapeutic and electrolytes charging. I thought this was a different approach, but a very good one to begin with. capacitors of spirit on the hunt where invisible photons are barging on unspace with an ineffable want Although your language is nothing like preachy, you still manage to capture the essence of reverence for Sundays in words like "spirit" and "want" in these lines above. You sermonize the day, yet you keep the underlying themes of it within the poem. I thought this was clever and very creative. "those beings of nothingness scratch away" Sunday is always a day of self reflection, and I guess it's good when we feel that the message is always directed toward us, because I think that's the whole purpose, to bring us to self awareness and betterment in life. The fact that on Sundays we're made to "scratch away" these bad feelings and administer the "head slapping smirks," as you say, is a pivotal part of being in service each Sunday. We go to church to wash away the sin and come back renewed to live better and love more. These lines illustrate that idea for me. "the paint glass day" Another wonderful, beautiful creative element here to allude to the stained glass of the church. Again, this takes me back. Most of the contemporary churches today have gotten away from the stained glass, and I know it's just decor, but I think that the stained glass helps to create an atmosphere of reverence, just my opinion. So, I was glad to see it mentioned in your poem as part of your "sermonizing." while a robed voice trys to instill a perk but cold ears are plugged with sunny beaches parables turn to dreams among the rows where worshipful snores drown out all speeches a last word wakes morals skipped and then pose This stanza above "drives the poem all the way home." The robed voice instilling perks, the cold ears plugged with the desire to be elsewhere the parables turn to dreams. These lines make real the point you are trying to make. The others were a great lead up to such a climax as this. And then you continue the idea when you speak of "worshipful snores" (smile) which I can certainly relate to. The last line of this stanza is very deep and meaningful. The "last word" waking "morals skipped" What a thought? That someone in the end, the purpose of the day is still ultimately reached, even through all of the distractions mentioned earlier in the poem. Sunday makes us "pose." It makes us pause and think about our positions in the world, our lives and how we live it. It's a consncience that calls us to better living I think. "questions for the back ground noise of the day" This line makes me think of how we leave the service reflecting on those pieces of the sermon that we do remember and questioning our own selves, our own lives as to whether or not we're living right. Very important line. In the beginning, your approach seems so light and care free, but in these last lines a seriousness abounds, and I think that's very effective. "opportunity waiting to display" That's what we are faced with after every worship, the "opportunity" to perform better based on what we've heard and learned. This is a great poem James. I don't know which one I like more this month. This one is so impressive because it draws the reader in, and it shares so many real thoughts about Sundays, but even deeper, you share some knowledge. You reveal, in an unexpected way, a sermon of your own. Thanks for sharing another awesome poem. I enjoyed this one immensely. Latorial www.latorialfaison.com

This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-01-23 12:28:43
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.78947
interesting form and words.....you have brought me back to my younger days when the entire family rose in the early morning hours, dressed in their Sunday best, attended church together.......sang in the choir, looked to see what new hat Mary's mom might have on today, watched as heads bobbed back and forth some catching before the first snore went out........my dad always took a nap and he might have snored a bit as well as mama poked him from time to time......thanks for sharing with us, be safe, God Bless, Claire

This Poem was Critiqued By: Kelly Denise LaBeff On Date: 2005-01-22 05:28:48
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.90909
James, I'm going to make this one short as when I did A Laissez Faire Life I spent a lot of time on it, and somehow I knew it was the stock market because in the first of my critique I said so, but later I got on a roll and laid it out there as more of a physical action than transactions...so I feel bad about overextending because I didn't want to disappoint you. Anyway, I like this sonnet, too, which once again it's perfect in all sonnet-wise aspects. It's funny...you bringing attention to the inattentiveness of these church goers. I'm astonished, where do you get all your ideas? Did you major in language, was your first book a dictionary and then your second a thesaurus? It had to be because your knowledge of language is an abyss, one of the deepest in the world. You make me grab those two books, covered in dust, every time! I hate admitting that, too! I like it, however, that you challenge my mind to learn and the testing of my comprehension skills is a wonderful exercise....who knows you may just help me balance my checkbook better,,,giggle,,,it seems like every month I purposefully just skip a check sometimes two when I'm deducting money spent from my already pathetic, pathetically low, balance! Thank goodness, I've yet to skip an amount larger than 64 dollars because I might get into some serious trouble if I started skipping rent, insurance, and vehicle payment lines! Orange isn't my best color either! I know this, my rambling off the subject at hand, does not mean a single thing to your sonnet, but I'm trying to tell you that I appreciate you, your poetry for many reasons beyond their insight and the delight I find while reading a Schanne Sonnet. Your writing has enhanced me, this person as a whole, me! You should write a book of these, really! I loved this poem because the imagery managed to spread my lips upwards into the natural curve of a smile...as I could just see this preacher and his congretation. You really have a way with words and I will always stand in awe of your poetic virtue! Thanks again for sharing, ML... read ya again real soon, Kelly

This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-01-20 18:52:23
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.76923
Ah yes, how many of those sermons have I sat through and snored? Therapeutic electrolytes charging capacitors of spirit on the hunt where invisible photons are barging on unspace with an ineffable want I don't know, but for me I would change electrolytes to electrons ( a particle present in all atoms...electrolytes is a solution or molten substance which becomes decomposed...well hell why am I telling you something you already know. Anyway, that's my take on it. Now, not to take away from your poem and style I personally have a hard time reading something like this that talks to me in professorial (almost down to me)language (and I have two degrees and then some). It's like trying to put one over on me ... oh please don't take me wrong but couldn't simpler words get across your point. Case in point is my profession as a Nurse. How many times have I heard pts ask me, "put that into English will you?" until I learned my lesson (usually happens when one has just graduated and wants to show off all their new found language and education). This has a title to it and it's called "Grad-ite-is. Get my drift. I was about to just skip this one but decided to stick with it and tell you my side of the story. Thanks for posting.

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