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  • The Faith

    Leached of secrets
    Leaking silence
    Vision-goaded
    Battered victim
    Stumbled bloodholed

    Gritty the sect
    Indelibly
    Desert-riddled
    Fat elements'
    Brink-fed empire

    Sacralised gouts
    Pled in the beast
    And blade-thickened
    Shows to the proud
    Universal child

    Primly system
    Monstered rebel
    Cradle threeward
    Mustard seedling
    To scything tool

    Nestling wings
    Unsprung at bells
    And homilies
    Weather ever
    Hopes to flutter
    Last edited by grant hayes; 01-30-2017, 05:33 PM.

  • #2
    As always a fantastic poem excellent word choices colour and emotion.I read it but what does it mean to me- an attack on faith -my first thought as I started to read but by the time I finished faith could be seen as a miracle in the background created.On a subject like this to achieve any ambiguity is hard to do. Despite your own opinions the reader can still have their own insight and that is a rare achievement

    Comment


    • grant hayes
      grant hayes commented
      Editing a comment
      I'm glad you found more than critique in the piece, Parkinsonspoet. That shows you're a perceptive reader, and I am always touched when I can hold the interest of such a reader. Thank you.

    • Parkinsonspoet
      Parkinsonspoet commented
      Editing a comment
      Grant you do more than hold my interest. After the colour in the poem I ponder my own faith .A poem that has inspired thought what more can I say.

  • #3
    Sounds not to be for the faint of heart. I confess that I can't make all of the connections clearly, but you've done another masterful job of maintaining a strict count with, as Parkinsonspoet stated, excellent word choices.

    Comment


    • grant hayes
      grant hayes commented
      Editing a comment
      The capitalisation of every line and the omission of punctuation make those connections more difficult, I daresay, Rhymist; not that they are straightforward anyway. I varied the 4-syllable line count at two points: five syllables at 3:5 and three at 5:1. The overall syllable count of 100 is maintained, however, in five stanzas of five lines each. Five squared within a century.
      Apart from that, it's all a bit of a palaver 😊

  • #4
    grant hayes I read this once through staying with the 'mustard seedling'.... i was intrigued by the meaning and the vision. A warning? growth? evil? I went back to 'monster'
    Second read i had to stop and let the wonder of the last stanza and the:
    Nestling wings
    Unsprung at bells
    And homilies
    Weathered ever
    Hopes to flutter

    sit with me. Parable/Bible: Matthew?
    Could the mustard seedling be more Buddhist? . Kisa searching for mustard seeds from those who were never touched by death... in the end she learned that life and everything really is about impermanence. Acceptance leads to peace. Hope. Here is where we can flutter!

    a poem here that i can feel very deeply... if i got your intent or not!!

    Comment


    • #5
      Hi Suz-zen. The mustard seedling is a reference to Christ's parable in which he likens the kingdom (or reign) of God to the growth of the mustard plant from the tiniest of seeds.

      Overall, the poem is kind of a precis of Christianity's development as a 'faith':

      Stanza 1: Christ's Passion
      Stanza 2: the early church in the Roman world
      Stanza 3: the effect of martyrdom
      Stanza 4: the development of trinitarian orthodoxy
      Stanza 5: the spiritual needs left unaddressed by the movement.

      I thank you for the Buddhist reference; I didn't know that story, though the nub of it - that life is impermanence - is unsurprising in a Buddhist context.

      I guess this piece is an attempt to compress history and meaning into a hard crystal. I'm glad that it imparted meaning to you; that is always a prize.

      Comment


      • #6
        The following gloss is offered for those readers who may wish to glean the sense of this piece:

        Leached of secrets and leaking silence, the vision-goaded, butted victim (Christ) stumbled, blood-holed.

        Gritty, the sect indelibly desert-riddled (filled with ascetic spirituality) the fat elements' brink-fed empire (the 'world').

        Sacralised gouts (of blood, tears and emotion) pled in the beast- and blade-thickened shows (arena) to the proud, universal child (sense of indignation).

        System (creeds, theology) primly monstered rebel cradle (early gospel) threeward (trinity), mustard seedling (as in Christ's parable) to racking tool.

        Nestling wings unsprung (not inspired) at bells
        and homilies (emblems of regulated piety) weathered ever (endured) hopes to flutter (transcendence frustrated).

        Comment


        • imrogue
          imrogue commented
          Editing a comment
          Thank you for enlightening us about this piece. Very interesting indeed. I liked the strict syllable count totalling to 100. :-))

        • grant hayes
          grant hayes commented
          Editing a comment
          ^ ^ Try as I might to compress things wordwise, Rhymist, the results won't stay in my pocket.

          One day I shall write the world into a thimble and choke on it.

        • grant hayes
          grant hayes commented
          Editing a comment
          ^ ^ imrogue, I always luff to count.

      • #7
        This poem, your poems god and life itself. Emergence, fragments and symbols, enough to know but remaining inviting and mysterious. Even though completely never understood we follow, at least I did with the title in mind

        Comment


        • grant hayes
          grant hayes commented
          Editing a comment
          'Emergence, fragments and symbols' ... I like that, the second. Thank you for dropping by and for venturing out with my lines.

      • #8
        Grant, Your excellent exegesis and gloss for this very dense and mysterious poem is most appreciated by this creature of little brain.

        Comment


        • #9
          Tanner, dense is my skull and any mystery therein is so much cranial fog.

          Five stewed verbs wrapped themselves in a dumpling god-bothered dough:

          stumbled
          riddled
          pled
          monstered
          weathered

          Those who tasted hummed with puzzled tongues.

          Comment


          • RhymeLovingWriter
            RhymeLovingWriter commented
            Editing a comment
            That's where you started with this??? I find that simply amazing.

          • grant hayes
            grant hayes commented
            Editing a comment
            I guess the mystery is not so mysterious after all, Rhymist.

        • #10
          Hello grant, Short, sharp and capitalised with grand language. Enjoyable, interesting, intriguing and at times beweldering but never boring. I love everything about this poem; subject, form, style, the lot. Well done indeed. Regards, Tony.

          Comment


          • #11
            Bewildering but never boring is a fine way to bee, Tony. Thank you for such lovely compliments.

            Comment


            • #12
              this passionate and logical description of faith shines through the fog.

              Comment


              • #13
                Passion and logic, perhaps not such an odd couple, eh, lunar glide. Fog is of war, faith is too.

                Comment


                • #14
                  I used to rail against such poetry, to vague or sparse, somehow it left me wanting. Yet it grows on one with time. My picture maybe over exposed as I learn to appreciate it. Grant the Master.

                  Comment


                  • grant hayes
                    grant hayes commented
                    Editing a comment
                    divot, I have to guard against a too-abrupt concision, a too-abstruse referentiality. Pieces like this, for me, are somewhat more experimental, or even a kind of training; the ones I myself feel best about are the less constrained, more lyrical pieces. Thank you for taking the time to 'try out' this erstwhile irksome style
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