between the hushed slosh
of waves and vacuum hiss
of heaven, shambles
heavy humanity
in a trickled smoke of cars
with tears flowed beneath visors
for what was Once between
the birth from creationist soup
to the touch of God
upon their crumpled hoods
how it was all so easy, then;
cotton candy pink
Eden wallowed
in Walmart shopping carts
milk and honey overflowed
and tended by the migrant's
somber spit and polish
the steady hand
on every shoulder
the Word in ready hand
and thought left
best behind obedience
now, above cities of society
where stark sameness clusters
barnacle hard
against a shift of tides
some intrepid fly an Art
hung on brilliant stars,
high atop horizons
previously gifted to gods
and we begin
to take our place
as eyes snap open
in this crowning touch of grace
A contest entry
- No Black Pits of Blackness II: A contest stolen without permission by cvillelisa.
800 points, ended February 9, 2007, 11 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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I think I figured out why I like it so much. It is creeping toward something Important. Yes. It may not be there yet but how could it? -
Well done.
Lisa is always right. She has the nose.
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my goodness
Do I know you? I don't know who you are but I am looking forward to find out when this contest closes.
This piece s e e p s
into the reader slowly (at least for me) after many reads. Some are able to pick up on the nuances of a poem like this faster than I can thats for sure.
Upon my first read I thought -- mmmm, I don't think I like it very much. But my, my, my I couldn't dismiss it. So I kept reading it and the more I read the more something happened. Your style is very aloof and unsentimental here but something -- wisdom maybe? eminates. I admire that.
When I like something that I don't understand why I like, it helps for me to break it down. Dismantling a bit if you will so I can put it back together in my own small brain. Here are a few thoughts as I read this:
between the hushed slosh
of waves and vacuum hiss
of heaven, shambles
heavy humanity
in a trickled smoke of cars
with tears flowed beneath visors
for what was Once between
the birth from creationist soup
to the touch of God
upon their crumpled hoods
how it was all so easy, then;
Had you ever considered a space between the opening 4 Lines and the next 6? So much there and when run together I had trouble getting it all in. Once I broke it up and gave myself a bit of a breather to realize "holy shite this is a poem about Humanity" things began to settle.
I am usually an "of" police but you prove that they can stack like that and work just fine must be the wonderful imagery you got in that opener of the slosh and the hiss -- between here and heaven. The place we are stuck.
My ears are pricked slightly by the tenses: shambles and then flowed -- but I think I have a handle on that better now.
I can't help but just think of miles and miles of highway traffic, people just droning on to work, slaves to the system -- (and yes that REM music video did come to mind Everybody Hurts Sometimes).
cotton candy Eden pink
wallowed in Walmart shopping carts
milk and honey overflowed
and tended by the migrant's
somber spit and polish
the steady hand
on every shoulder
the Word in ready hand
and thought left
best behind obedience
Walmart is Evil. And how you slyly slip that in here. Sly, sly, sly. Eden? Hah. Oh the migrant worker -- and the Bible is here and the lemming like ways of "follow, follow, follow" do not think for yourself or go against what has been set out as Good and Right.
I am not sure if I like Eden in the first line I keep reading it as:
cotton candy pink
Eden wallowed in Walmart shopping carts
but that's me. And I'm a pain in the ass and going to tell you because I get very selfish when reading poems I like.
now, above cities of society
where stark sameness clusters
barnacle hard
against a shift of tides
some intrepid fly an Art
hung on brilliant stars,
high atop horizons
previously gifted to gods
and we begin
to take our place
as eyes snap open
in this crowning touch of grace
Amen. Let's effin hope so. That is all I can say about that last bit. Amen. I do believe only Art can save us. Mostly because I think Art and Love go hand in hand somehow, I haven't figured it out yet but this is a new theory I'm exploring. Through Art -- is acceptance and Love speaks the language of acceptance.
Argh you got me rambling.
I love this. Thank you very much for this poem gift. I don't know if you broke rules. I don't care. Ed didn't have this on his shortlist but I must overrule him. I must.
Lisa
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Thank you so very much for your thoughtful and most insightful commentary. Your suggestions for altering the piece make very much sense. I thank you for those and plan on incorporating them.
I wish to thank you, as well, for the gold. I must admit to complete and utter surprise. But it was a very nice one. Thank you.
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oops.. pokes myself in the eye!!!
thanks Liza for pointing me this way, great plumery
it snaps on the eye and on the mind it wanders... hanging against midnight, waiting... waiting.. with hands .. ...
dreams are crazy things...
i really love this one
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those last lines...leave me with an image of humanity ..reaching out into the stars..
I can't ask for anything more..
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