"You carry my dreams with: "You carry my dreams with your eyes" brings me images of a boat, sail fully opened and leaning gently into the coming evening upon a calm ocean. : ) Immediately following with "my heart on the palm of your hand" only aids that feeling of a peaceful voyage into hopes. Within this beautiful rhapsody, that is my very favorite part.
Brilliant concept: Put forth in such a way that it presents contrast between "what was" and "what is/will be" with such power, it's almost overwhelming.
Somehow, it's all encased in a beauty, how ever dimlit by the circumstances, through the "poem I wrote in my youth".
This, to me, is one of those poems that becomes a true place of sanctity.
I believe I have yet to: I believe I have yet to encounter this (though perhaps I have merely forgotten about such an experience over time), but certainly can imagine it happening. Especially in these times, where-in portraying a voice that might be deemed unworthy to speak, so as to be poetic and present a perception, might create responses that don't get it.
Thank you so much for that: Thank you so much for that comment and validation. I did not look up "spittling" before I wrote the poem, so I must confess my ignorance of its usage. I will correct my note so that it does not seem that I am claiming to have coined the word. And the third paragraph of your comment goes to the heart of the poem's purpose: I truly and sincerely felt that he was committing real blasphemy by reducing Jesus to "that little man." Thank you for your customary and precise insight into the meanings and motives of my poems; it provides me the greatests encouragement.
A delightfully wry parody.: A delightfully wry parody. Your sense of satire is so instinctive and precise I too could feel some spray in the air and hear some mad-dog blathering.
"Spittling" as a verb is the present participle of spittle, but it's rarely used and incorporated so craftily here that you might as well have coined it. Perfect word choice that works overtime as imagery. I actually laughed. Still smiling.
I believe in his attempt to sound folksy and theatrical, this preacher did offend many, like you, who worship the Savior wholeheartedly and regard Him as so holy and Divine that any dishonor is an egregious sacrilege.
A wonderful caricature that certainly hits home for me.
Quite interesting on a couple: Quite interesting on a couple of points here, the first being that poetic licence is under the operation of each individual poet, and some are shier than others to employ that licence as with driving licences, some just have it for ID or just in case they were by force of circumstance be sitted behind the wheel of a moving vehicle. In poetry the feel and the deeming of coinage and such depends on the poetic process that has been undergone, as such no flippant dismissal or objection can stand up to the poetic argument that preceded. Second, should that now deceased preacher be of southern background or influence, and possibly even not may have used this phrase not to harp on the physical stature of the Lord (and I say this because it was spat out at every sermon) but perhaps (now this only being a suggestion of probable intent) refers to how the hearers (those who have ears hear...) have little or no concern for Jesus, that He is less important in their thoughts or philosophies of life where other things are grander and of more import in their day to day lives than the spoutings of a small village prophet (can anything good come out of Nazareth) thus, He may be little or poor or shoddy to the hearers but the lowliness and humble birth of the King who wasn't born in a palace, the wise then being made foolish and the mighty toppled through the contrast against the weak and base things. But that is just a suggestion of thought and not an assertion. Specially as I have no personal experience or knowledge of the Charleston style of worship.
I never found out why he: I never found out why he clung to that phrase . . . in every sermon I heard him preach (which was a few, not many, but far too many for my preference) . . . he would repeat far more than any Scriptural quotation or citation. Because of my intense dislike of his preaching style (very much a ShadyCreeker and not a Charlestoner), my wife urged me not to speak to him other than "Good Morning," and I complied with her wishes to keep the peace.
You're quite welcome.
This: You're quite welcome.
This reference that said preacher made towards Jesus being little or small is quite unusual, as a matter of fact I'd never heard the thought prior. I wonder if, perhaps, he thought it was a way to make people who might feel small or little - feel less so. If Jesus was "little" and is their savior, than they might be bigger than they appear, as well. I don't know, just a ponderance.
What ever his intentions, it does fly against the portrayal of Jesus in the Bible, as well as other texts not included there-in. And, of course, the shroud, which as far as I'm aware is regarded in the various sects of Christianity as authentic (or at least likely to be so).
Thank you, Sir. The preacher: Thank you, Sir. The preacher in question is deceased, and I am fairly sure that known who knew him will ever visit this website, but I think his attempts to create an impression of a "little man Jesus" was just this side of---if not actual---blasphemy. The Gospels seems to indicate that Jesus was a man of some physical stature---especially when one considers that, during his apprehension in the Garden of Gethsamene, the temple guards fell back and down as soon as he made Himself known to them. I happen to believe that the Shroud of Turin is authentic, and it, of course, gives us the image of a man of considerable stature and strength.
But thank you very much for the comment and the compliment. I am so glad to have heard from you.
Only by a case of deduction,: Only by a case of deduction, having noticed as an avid reader that the scope and intensity and manner of reading varied differently when Muse sourced in contrast to curriculum forced. It felt like the Muse had a syllabus all her own that at times intersected the madness or the brilliance of school generated reading lists. Thanks for responding and sharing your thoughts.
Fine painting of a a moment : ..to capture a broader experience. I felt the flying droplets of foam from my ephemeral pew.
P/s All words were once a violation of the language that existed before them. Oh, the the awful sin the first coherant words - the non-grunts, non-growls and non-squeaks - must have been. Please continue risking violation, as to aid poetry : )