the eyes of all hope . . .

 

~

 

latin and spanish    understanding neither  

sitting beside yenny    mass floating to the rafters    

settling on the painted icons    primary colors

and gilt    i smile at her    she is rapt   

 

some say the bower of nature

is all the church they need    were i

but i'm not    but were i    i would come 

kneel and be graced    mass floating

 

over me    settling on my shoulders

so that i may be rapt   words superfluous    

better without them    but for

the sound    icons    vestments    colored glass

 

modestly framed    enough for me    

ego enim accépi a dómino . . .

and why not    the bower will be there

before and after    and the company is good

 

~ 

 

 

 





Poetry by one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 692 times
Written on 2016-02-28 at 14:39

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


shells
You sound like you take from religion what you want and that's more than enough.
2016-03-01


josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
This is a tapestry. woven of experience, care, and reverence. I find that Mass is a fundamental part of my week. A capstone that allows me to literally dot the I and render complete, seven days of labor in a mostly Godless world. You've in way I could never, put all that into a unique perspective. I'll read this again and again.
2016-03-01


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
This is excellent. It artfully describes what one is to get from going to church, I think.
2016-03-01



The company makes all the difference. I'm a lapsed Catholic, but I still find the wash of sensation, imagery, symbol and theater of Catholicism deeply poetic. I love the blend rapture, disconnection, and mystery here, which I think is the essential poetic experience.
2016-02-29



This brings back memories of the feeling of well being and of feeling safe and protected I felt when I would enter the huge cathedrals of my country when I was a child and my mother would take me by the hand into the Catholic church where I was awed by the solemnity of the ceremony, quiet, reverend, mysterious with the beautiful occasional chanting in Latin. It was a place of safety and reverence. I can feel that in this poem. I am thinking that the title refers to a place of safety where one can find hope. It may not have to do with church, but that is what I felt upon reading it. More of the peace and safety than of any religion.
Ashe
2016-02-28