Poetry Forum

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Worth unravels;
merit of a different age bleeds across the years
and paints my lips, garishly
and with open shame.

Light becomes nothing more
than the force that casts the shadow
of the cathedral spire.
And we pray, knees against stone
inside the apse, looking down,
rejecting even the muted sunlight.

We shiver as we mumble,
sweat and spit on our chins,
pathetic and unexcused, to heaven;
eyes up and slick hands clasped.

The sweeping lines of my grey dress
have collected dust;
your hair is longer now--
it sways slightly in front of your face,
matted with grease.

That is all that I can see of you.
It has been so long.
I have forgotten the words of my prayer;
nothing of that remains in my voice.







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Just a couple of suggestions from me - Could you not lose the two ands that begins the last two lines of V1? Or at least the last one.

merit of a different age bleeds across the years,
paints my lips garishly,
with open shame

In verse 2 -

Light becomes nothing more
than the force that casts the shadow
of the cathedral spire. - You could make light seem like an even lesser force by using the indefinite article, rather than making it definite.

Light becomes nothing more
than a force that casts the shadow
of the cathedral spire.

Two verses really caught my eye - The last one, which makes a really strong finish, and -

We shiver as we mumble,
sweat and spit on our chins,
pathetic and unexcused, to heaven;
eyes up and slick hands clasped.

Nice one

Barrie

Worth unravels;
merit of a different age bleeds across the years
and paints my lips, garishly
and with open shame.

The title refers to fear of something known only to the poet. I like the fact that there is enough instinctual word play that I don't have to know the whole story to get the point. But this felt less like fear and more like deep shame or 'open shame' which threads throughout the poem.
In the first verse my suggestion is to leave out 'bleeds across the years'--I get the image of blood red lips (garish paint) without having to be told. This is a very effective opening. I can understand why you would want to work in 'the years' as setting up the story of two lovers, unrequited, struggling together but entirely separated by their own contritions.

We shiver as we mumble,
sweat and spit on our chins,
pathetic and unexcused, to heaven;
eyes up and slick hands clasped.

I agree with Barrie that this is a very strong verse with powerful images. "Eyes up and slick hands clasped" is excellent and describes this agony--the need for forgiveness. And in the torment of these two souls is a lack of recognition for each other. Because all of this is figurative, I am thinking that this relationship is of the spirit and not the physical body or dealing with close proximity. Maybe the two were separated at some time and haven't seen each other in a while but still remember and are living the consequences of a shipwrecked relationship--in silence and in old age.

That is all that I can see of you.
It has been so long.
I have forgotten the words of my prayer;
nothing of that remains in my voice.

I like the ending but for me the last line made me read it over again. "nothing of that remains in my voice." Of course it was the words of his/her prayer. This lacks the descriptiveness of the beginning stanzas--I would like to see what those words were that have been stripped from the voice.

Cheers,
Kim

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Thank you to both Barrie and Kim for the suggestions-- I appreciate the reviews and I've changed the poem a bit since I agreed with everything that was said...

I did have some trouble with modifying the word "that" in the last line of the poem, as Kim suggested, and I wasn't up to changing it until I was entirely sure of having a good replacement...



Worth unravels;
merit of a different age
paints my lips, garishly
and with open shame.

Light becomes nothing more
than the force that casts the shadow
of a cathedral spire.
And we pray, knees against stone
inside the apse, looking down,
rejecting even the muted sunlight.

We shiver as we mumble,
sweat and spit on our chins,
pathetic and unexcused, to heaven;
eyes up and slick hands clasped.

The sweeping lines of my grey dress
have collected dust;
your hair is longer now--
it sways slightly in front of your face,
matted with grease.

That is all that I can see of you.
It has been so long.
I have forgotten the words of my prayer;
nothing of that remains in my voice.





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