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Starward commented on: The Majesty of Destruction by patriciajj 2 years 10 weeks* ago* If I recall correctly from: If I recall correctly from decades ago, one of Diane Wakoski's numerous books of poetry began with an essay in which she wrote about finding the internal connections of a poem to other poems (the poet's. or other poets'), and I think she used one of Stevens' poems as an example. This definitely affected my reading habits, as I like to read poems in the context of their connnection (explicit or implied) to other poetry. As I began to read this poem, the first line reminded me of T. S. Eliot's poem, The Waste Land (which began to accumulate in his mind during the early tremors of the first Wolrd War); but the second line, and, indeed, the remainder of the poem presents a quiet apocalyptic vision like Eliot's poem, The Hollow Men. Not to imply this is a slavish imitation of Eliot's poem; not at all, because Patricia's poem works well without knowledge of Eliot's poem, and she improves upon that example---perhaps we can call it quiet apocalyptic---by the variety of images her words present in elucidation of the poem's mood. And, unlike The Hollow Men, her poem ends with an image of hope, of redemption, of the process called, by the Apostle Saint Paul, redeeming the time. Patricia gives us a variety of the imagery of horror and despair, which reminded me of that old anthology series, The Dark Side, which began with images that became shadowy. I remember a covered bridge, looking perfectly innocent in the broad sunlight, but in the shadows it became sinister. As the poem proceeds and spreads its blanket of "grief-soaked shadows " over the landscape beneath "the growling, the branded sky." Newness becomes terrifying; rain, which quenches thirst (echo of The Waste Land), is like hosannas (hymns of praise) locked into "living glass." Glass is not supposed to be alive; it is an inert substance made from fired sand. Glass can convey a beautiful vista, but it can also distort the view and, when shattered, it can cause injury: if it has become alive, what might it be inclined to do? The flaw in most of our contemporary apocalyptics is that they give no chance for redemption. Even The Hollow Men fails in that respect, as does many of the speeches that Dante placed in The Inferno which, by definition, could not any more attain redemption. But the supreme apocalyptic example, the Apocalypse of the Apostle Saint John, concludes with redemption that arises out of the preceding destruction. And this is the pattern that Patricia---not only an observant Poet but a great one as well---wisely follows because she understands that apocalyptic writing is not meant to frighten, and is not so much of a warning (because, for the most part, most of the people who could take warning from apocalyptic would not be interested in bothering to do so) as it is an encouragement to hope. And this is where her poem now takes us---the great and utter washing of faith (with which I, emerging from a long "dark night of the soul" right now, can identify with and testify to) that leads to the blooming lilly which rejoices in the light after a thirstquenching rain. As I write this comment, chairbound in front of the main window of my house's living room, my western view consists primarily of the limbs and trunks of trees, and their profusions of green leaves, now shimmering in sunlight as a gentle breeze causes them to dance slightly on their limbs. This is late afternoon sunlight in September in the midwest, and has always been a comfort. This is so appropriate a moment during which to arrive at the conclusion of Patricia's magnificent poem. She---like her great predecessor, the Poet among the twelve apostles, the Apostle Saint John---understands the proper usage of apocalyptic: that it must always lead to an implied or an explicated redemption, else it is a mere exercize in terror. Terror has its place, of course, and I am the first to seek out a good ghost story if it serves up the utmost terror. But most ghost stories are not apocalyptics. Even Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner, itself a wildly successful ghost story, ends with a sense of redemption (in the Wedding Guest, not the Mariner); and Mary Shelley brought Frankenstein to a moment of redemption when Walton, confronted by the Monster, is not harmed, but has been given a new knowledge which he will retain while the Monster withdraws into darkness, distance, and a most certain immolation. And of course, Dante's Inferno was only the first of the cantos; and behind the despair of the visions he saw there and the speeches he heard there was the knowledge, the always present knowledge, that he was visiting, conducted most safely by the great Poet, Vergil, who had been sent by Dante's girlfriend Beatrice, with the purpose of emerging from the apocalyptic visions of the first two cantos into the redemptive jubilation of the third Canto, the Paradiso. Even in the third chapter of Genesis 3 is a sort of small apocalyptic in which we see two naked knuckleheads make a wreckage of the Garden of Eden, and yet they are given a promise (by, I believe, the preincarnate Christ) of the ultimate intervention of a Redeemer. Patricia is not only the heir to all these apocalyptic patterns, but she is the worthy successor to the Poets who brought them forth; as she brings forth her own version, with its promise of redemption, in this beautiful and utterly "Patrician" poem. I thank her for posting this poem; and, like all her others here on postpoems, the posting of it is an event ot be celibrated. [ go to comment ]
lyrycsyntyme commented on: The Majesty of Destruction by patriciajj 2 years 10 weeks* ago* If I were to highlight the: If I were to highlight the many brilliant lines in this poem, I might merely been accused of cutting and pasting the whole penning : ) So I'll chain myself back and highlight just a few: "The last exhale of the world" is at once incredibly anti-apocalyptic, as it doesn't invoke a firey, explosive cataclysmic death, but rather the silent, hopeless onlooking of two eyes going still. It's too intimate, too real, and - to me - far more overwhelming to imagine. This reader wasn't really given the choice, as you set the tone almost immediately with these words. And chance of escaping the grasp of the feeling invoked by those words is vaporized by the imagery of a fruitless attempt of a distant, seemingly tiny star to shine on against the dominating power of our sun trampling our sky Like a raging storm, it never lets up...until it does. And, in the only way that overwhelming emotions from devastation of the past, devastations of reality and of mere existence can coped with, it is a germination and bloom of hope that calms the senses and offers a longview that can be processed, and perhaps progressed on through. Destruction is, ironically, the seed of hope. And hope is the seed of growth. We need not water Destruction, lest we rot the first seed before it germinates, as there will be inundating rains without any help from us and our mistakes. We need, as they say, only weather it and show our best resilience till "the airy, linen light" returns. Wholly incredible, intense, and - with patience - refreshing for the weary soul (such as this one). : ) [ go to comment ]
Starward commented on: Of A "DownHome" Preacher, Now Deceased by J4nu4r14n 2 years 10 weeks* ago* And thank you, my good: And thank you, my good friend, for that reply. I appreciate your understanding of my intention in the poem. [ go to comment ]
lyrycsyntyme commented on: At Last My Dream Came True. by sweetwater 2 years 10 weeks* ago* Who knows, indeed. Only time: Who knows, indeed. Only time itself. [ go to comment ]
crypticbard commented on: Of A "DownHome" Preacher, Now Deceased by J4nu4r14n 2 years 10 weeks* ago* With this clarification and: With this clarification and further information on the delivery itself of the aforementioned preacher there is no disputing the fact that since "it always preceded some proclamation about himself -- what he did for God... and that little man J----" that he must have had some very twisted theology or sense of self-worth. Be sure that he will get what is coming to him in due time. I am more touched by the forgiveness and restoration that results from godly sorrow as this exemplifies the transformation in line with the glory redounding back and always to the Lord. Thanks you for the added context, that has mad it all clear. [ go to comment ]
sweetwater commented on: At Last My Dream Came True. by sweetwater 2 years 10 weeks* ago* Have you, that's very: Have you, that's very interesting, would you tell me? [ go to comment ]
Starward commented on: At Last My Dream Came True. by sweetwater 2 years 10 weeks* ago* I have experienced something: I have experienced something similar. [ go to comment ]
sweetwater commented on: At Last My Dream Came True. by sweetwater 2 years 10 weeks* ago* No crowds, just a handful of: No crowds, just a handful of people waiting patiently to meet him for their own reasons. Yes,I will cherish it for the rest of my life, can't explain it, don't understand it, it is and always has been Don. George Harrison, yes, Alice Cooper, very yes, David Essex even more yes. But Don..way beyond, a different realm entirely. Maybe we were together in another life, who knows. [ go to comment ]
Starward commented on: PRAYERS by joy 2 years 10 weeks* ago* When I thought of my prayer: When I thought of my prayer as a wish and launched it into the dark, it swam in a frolic like to a young fish, and was promptly devoured by the night like a shark. But when I thought of my prayer as a prayer, it soared to the sky. Neither wish nor fear, it called on God, in Whose sustaining care I am held, and Who drew immediately near. _________________________________________ I could not help but be inspired by your poem to reply with one of my own. Thanks for making my Sunday afternoon brighter. [ go to comment ]
Starward commented on: Hey! You bit my sandwich! by redbrick 2 years 10 weeks* ago* Is this like the glass half: Is this like the glass half empty or half full? The poem seems to imply a philosophical aspect in the bitten sandwich; and then, very coyly, leaves the philosophical aspect to be sought out by the reader without giving clues. Reminds me of some of Wallace Stevens' best work. [ go to comment ]
lyrycsyntyme commented on: At Last My Dream Came True. by sweetwater 2 years 10 weeks* ago* At least lucky: ..was the crowd to be in the presence of your shared energies : ) It sounds like you had an eternally cherishable experience. [ go to comment ]
Starward commented on: Of A "DownHome" Preacher, Now Deceased by J4nu4r14n 2 years 10 weeks* ago* If I may, I will reply to the: If I may, I will reply to the final statement of your comment first. The Charleston style of worship had a vertical emphasis---toward God, not toward the assembled worshippers, or toward people to be evangelized. The Charleston style of worship is very much like the Psalms: in which we, reading them, are focused much more on God than on the writer (be that David, or Asaph, or Moses, or Solomon). Yes, there are some personal remarks in the Psalms, but they are a minority compared to the majority of statements about, and praise to, God. The Shady Creek style reminds me of the last verse of Judges 21: ". . . every man did that which was right in his own eyes." Charleston is a verticalized worship; Shady Creek is a horizontalized testimony. And the great pitfall in the Creek is the tendency to begin with "Look what God has done for me," and end up emphasizing "me" instead of God. In the past, I have sat through endless, frothmouthed testimonies which put far more of an emphasis on the person testifying than on what he or she was testifying about. I do not care to hear an account (as I did in December 1977, the first time I saw the Shady Creek style) of how God helped a janitor find the right tool to repair a pipe attached to a furnace. But I would be glad---and it would be a privilege, in fact---to hear the praise of God as the creator of the cosmos and, as the Eastern Church often says, the Lover of humanity. If I read your comment correctly (and I gladly admit my tendency to misinterpret) you tried to put that preacher's signature phrase into a very positive light. While I appreciate your kindness in doing so, a kindness which reflects so very well upon you, it is not---at least in what I experienced as an actual hearer of his shoutings---as accurate as I would wish it to be. When that particular preacher launched his favorite catch phrase, it always preceded some proclamation about himself---what he did for God, what he said for God, what he accomplished for that little man Jay-zus. I had not come to the worship service to hear that man's biography, or the events on his calender the previous week, or how he fixed the furnace with the tool to which God led him. I came to praise and worship the God revealed to us in the Psalms, and in the Gospels and the other books of the New Testament. I would much rather hear the Apostle Saint John's testimony, in his Gospel, to his experience in the company of Jesus, than to hear how that little man Jayzus told a clodhopper what wrench to use to turn a pipe. But I do not write this out of bitterness or out of any kind of motive to dispute what you have said. I am emerging from a dark night of the soul, which began for me in 2012 and led to many bad choices, as well as nearly three years of relentless pain while a Foley Catheter (which is now gone) had been inserted into me. I am very grateful for the time I have left, and that I have been brought, as the Scriptures promise, out of that dark, starless night, and into the sunshine and starshine of what Sam Jaffe's character, in the fi;m Ben Hur, called, "a returning Faith." [ go to comment ]
sweetwater commented on: At Last My Dream Came True. by sweetwater 2 years 10 weeks* ago* It comes through, has always: It comes through, has always come through wherever he is. Just this time he was with me in a small room at a concert hall. unfortunately not alone though, but together face to face. [ go to comment ]
lyrycsyntyme commented on: At Last My Dream Came True. by sweetwater 2 years 10 weeks* ago* You're welcome. But I guess: You're welcome. But I guess the relative location of the adored muse to you came right on through : ) [ go to comment ]
sweetwater commented on: At Last My Dream Came True. by sweetwater 2 years 10 weeks* ago* That's a lovely romantic way: That's a lovely romantic way to see this poem, thank you. Especially as he lives way across the ocean in America. sue :-) [ go to comment ]