There must be hundreds of them
putting holes in the clouds
around my house.
They are pointing --
a choir of ivory fingers
declaring without volume,
suggesting without words;
street signs for lost sheep
like me.
How many times
have I tried to be found,
knees pressing the face of the earth,
swallowed in the shadows
of these enlightened pillars?
Oh quiet God,
If only I could open my flesh
and count the grass stains
on my soul.
If only I had a ladder long enough
to plant steeples on the edge of the atmosphere
and point them down
to earth.
Author notes
Please give me time to decipher the signs, please forgive me for time that I've wasted. I'm a doubting Thomas; I'll take your promise, though I know nothing's safe. Oh me of little faith. - Nickel Creek
Comments
1 - 25 of 25
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Just the first stanza could easily stand alone.
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I loveee ;lovee lovee this...this is so beautifuly written and I am very excited after reading this. YOu are truly talented and I am so happy you shared this with others..thank you!
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sigh
I always seem to come back to this one. mesmorizing
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This is such a very beautiful and touching poem as most of your work is. Again it is a pleasure to read your heart and soul. thanks for the wonderful read
huggles
Lena -
This is beautiful! You have such a powerful sense of cadence. It's such a powerful poem.
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quite interesting. i like the image of the ivory fingers a lot.
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i loved it
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your words like ivory and silk on a page
you touch me with thoughts you have gave
I love what I see and the way you pen thank
you for sharing your awesome gift♥
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Simply beautiful. You have a grace with words.
Write on.
~*~SP~*~ -
absolutely gorgeous! I really enjoyed this one.
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I loved the line about grass stains on my soul. I think i have those as well. The images in this poem are incredible - the steeples putting holes in the clouds, street signs for lost souls, plant steeples on the edge of the atmosphere....wonderful pictures in my head from this poem.
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Absolutely inspiring...
I disagree that "putting" should be replaced by "poking"; I feel that the sound, or very concept of "poking" would disrupt the flow of the poem.
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good job its very good
-Oh quiet God,
If only I could open my flesh
and count the grass stains
on my soul.-
that has to be my favorite part
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I see what you mean ...
but this is very incisive and a damned good poem. The melancholy works well here.
I'd say "poking holes" rather than "putting holes". The ending of this is particularly powerful, although the entirety of this is an excellent job. It's poignant without being maudlin, and the feelings in this are really universal. I suspect every human being has felt this way at one time or another, but few indeed have been able to express it so coherently.
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I like it. Questioning religion using churches. Good analogy.
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This is beautiful. You're opening was fantastic, some great images in this.
nicely done, enjoyed it,
~ w -
This is a steeple on the edge of the atmosphere.
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Corey... I love the picture you painted with the first three stanzas. Maybe it is just me and I have just been soo out of the poetry loop for soo long that I can't seem to acquire the true meaning of the last two... I know it must be amazing, because it sounds so dramatic and deep to your core. So, if you would so indulge me, maybe a bit of an enlightening could ensue... for old time's sake? ( :
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Absolutely.
The poem is about doubt. In the opening two stanzas, I'm trying to portray steeples as constant physical reminders that God is up there. There's a shift in the third stanza (my response to seeing the steeples). In stanza #3, I'm using grass stains as imagery for prayer (knees bent on the ground). "Open up my flesh" and "on my soul" is the way I emphasize how relentlessly I prayed. In a nutshell, that stanza is saying "if I could show you how hard I've tried" (to believe). In the final stanza, I bring back the steeples as an extended metaphor. Since they stand for "pointers" or "reminders", I'm basically saying, "If I could only climb up there (wherever God is) and plant steeples facing the earth (where I am)." Here at the end, I'm using steeples to remind God, "I'm down here" (answer me).
I hope that's not too confusing
. For me, the difficulty of free verse (and often any kind of poetry) is knowing what to say and what not to say. Say too much and you've taken the poetry out of your poem; say too little and the meaning is too abstract for anyone to wrap their minds around. 
Thanks for the comment! Long time no see.
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Ahh
the third stanza makes better sense to me now I've read this. It confused me a little, but didn't cause me to misinterpret the last lines.
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i love this. almost like i love you. call me.
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"up up up up up up points the spires of the steeple, and god's work isn't done by god, but done by people."
you amaze me, still, four years later. -
Sounds like a quaint place with so many church steeples. A reader gets a visual of them and tree lined streets with shops,book stores. Nice free verse,very descriptive piece.
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In fact, I enjoyed this so much, I need to give you more props.
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The first two stanzas are beautiful... but the last two are what make it a Corey Harvard poem.
Grass stains of the soul- awesome.
And the final stanza- didn't see it coming, and LOVED it.
About time.
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