Poetry Forum

Say this is so. Posit the resurrection.
What follows? What a waking up. What
mystic reassembly on the spot
of burned or buried flesh and bones and hair
while angels trail hosannas through the air.

Yes, the angels are all very dashing, there's no doubt,
but it's not them you want to be worried about,
it's those little black fellows. Look at them. Little beasts.
They're rounding up the simoniacal priests
at fork point, pronging the lechers through that door,
and they're really giving the wrathful what for.
See, through a welter of freshly abandoned hopes,
that batch of frankly frantic heretical popes.
And you who loved not wisely but too well,
I bet you never thought you were going to hell
for it. No. Never mind, just join that queue.
Give them your name, and they'll find a place for you.
Then what? Fall down foaming, squeak or squeal,
you've had your lot. There is no appeal.

That's it. That's my problem. That's what's wrong.
Life is short, eternity is long.
Is there, in time, no end to all this pain?
If God is Love, where is His gentle rain?

Finite error, infinite correction.

Gidday

Pre-trib?
Post-trib?
Pre-millenial?
A-millenial?
Post-millenial?

You didn't give much away here. An entertaining read - made me think of Hieronymus Bosch and his gruesome scenes of hell.

There were some parts I felt the rhythm didn't flow (but who am I to talk). What a great thing to do in church - write poetry. I haven't been for a lonnng time.

I particularly liked the finale

Finite error, infinite correction.

Methinks you are questioning the faith.

Cheers
Dave

David

This puzzled me -

"And you who loved not wisely but too well,
I bet you never thought you were going to hell
for it. No." - What was it about?

I liked this part -

......"Look at them. Little beasts.
They're rounding up the simoniacal priests
at fork point, pronging the lechers through that door,
and they're really giving the wrathful what for"

and, like Dave, I really like the -

"Finite error, infinite correction."

Nice one.

Mick

"

Pre-trib?
Post-trib?
Pre-millenial?
A-millenial?
Post-millenial?

hehe I was thinking the same thing

Dave, Mick, Caleb, thanks for taking the time to read and comment.

I didn't actually write it in church, although my wife was there at the time, riding shotgun on her Brownies and Rainbows at the Harvest Festival.

You're right about the rhythm in the second section, Dave. It's supposed to be a conversation (nearly put that in the title, but it's too long as it is), and the second speaker is much looser. Should still be five stresses per line, though, even if not ten syllables.

For the "dashing" angels, I was thinking of knights in armour (or, possibly, Spitfire pilots), and as for the little beasts, I think it was something like this - http://www.uni-potsdam.de/u/germanistik ... elle_5.gif ... not nice. San Gimignano, in case you were wondering.

It was Othello who admitted that he had loved not wisely but too well, but you could equally well apply the phrase to, say, Ophelia (perhaps) and, more pertinently, Romeo and Juliet - for whom read the medieval equivalent, Francesca da Rimini and her lover (whose name no one, least of all I, can ever remember).

She, together with the simoniacal priests, the lechers, the wrathful, the abandoned hopes and the heretical popes (not a good sub-class to be in), comes from Dante's Inferno. He placed her in the Second Circle of Hell, which compared with the others is not too bad, but you wouldn't want to spend your holiday there. "These souls are blown about to and fro by a violent storm, without hope of rest."

People have always sympathised with her in this fate, and you get the feeling that Dante felt sorry for her as well. He didn't relent though.

Incidentally, have you noticed how Dante shares with Elvis the very rare distinction of only ever being referred to by his Christian name, not his surname? No-one ever talks about Presley (or, if they do, you presume they're referring to the Troggs).

Finally, the gentle rain is from the Merchant of Venice, of course. Which kind of makes God Shylock, demanding his pound of flesh. Which is kind of the point I was making, or at least considering. Finite error, infinite correction.

Again, thanks for your comments guys. I think I may desist from my tedious religious musings for a while, make contact with the real world again.

Cheers

David

P.S. Vaya con Elvis

This was amusing and intriguing when I read it and didn't comment, and it's still amusing after I read your backgrounding and finally can comment. Those frescos in the entryway to the little church in San Gimignano are almost as horrific as the exhibits in the well-advertised museum of tortures nearby. Those fires of hell were so important to the middle ages and rennaisance: it is a wonder they are so prominently admired in theory, but in fact ignored now. The fact that this is piece a dialogue was lost on me; that fact clarifies a great deal. I wonder if there is a way, by italics or indentation, to so indicate, because it makes a difference to know that.

The gist of the discussion of course, speaks to historical christian concensus, which ignores the other possible conclusion: historical christian conscensus is wrong; God is all-merciful, there is no such thing as sin, and there is no retribution, just karma, which simply ends eventually in bliss — too simple, too logical, but certainly and objectively more reasonable. But how can you get to that conclusion when you start out with a war god?

Thanks for reading and commenting rw.

"God is all-merciful, there is no such thing as sin, and there is no retribution, just karma, which simply ends eventually in bliss" - I think I would sign up for that right now. (But what's in the small print?)

Cheers

David

We all are. Karma is the fine print. 'Nuff said?

I'm not sure "eschatology" is the right word, after reading your explanation of the poem. Maybe: damnation, spiritual warfare, eternal perspective, atonement...these all have more relevance and are words with a Christian flare.

I just say this because, even though "eschatology" is "the End Times," these refer to the End of the World, usually not the end of one's life.

- Caleb

I don't think this is tedious at all. It's exactly how religious musings ought to be served up - smothered in lashings of doubt. I found the structure really engaging; most of the couplets were superb (hopes / popes was a little too heavy even for this, I thought); the voices were almost perfect. I'd change the title which still sounds portentous after you've read the poem. Pseud is right that eschatology ain't this. I didn't comment the first time because I was lazy, but this is my favourite PG poem of the last while, and I do read them all.

them all? You poor sod.

He's called a devote (with the accent on the last "e" which I can never fucking find)!

They're very shy and rare. Don't fucking offend him. He might go away and then no one would be around to read Duncan's shit.

Quickly, quietly, creep back into the bushes.

hahaha...well, any devot'e' around here can surely take a joke...except, well, we go into names.

Actually while I'm at it, I'll say I agree with you, k-j, that this is not tedious. Obviously we're opposite ends of the ideological spectrum, cynical and believer, but David, you've somehow appealed to both sides. Well done.

Into the bushes I retire before k-j starts shouting,

- Caleb

Thanks for reading and commenting chaps. As you say, Caleb, both ends of the spectrum.

k-j, I really thought it was eschatology (although I agree the title is a bit annoyingly fey). Last Things. What could be more final than the Last Judgement? (Just found a great picture - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Torcellomosaic.jpg).

I don't doubt that my theology may be a bit shaky, and I've mixed a few things up. I have nothing to declare but my ignorance.