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Eulogy

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Dave
Posts: 1991
Joined: Mon Jan 08, 2018 9:07 am

Eulogy

Post by Dave » Mon Aug 17, 2020 4:23 am

This is an old poem I have rediscovered:

Eulogy
 
The days start on Sunday
with lies I feel safe behind.

There's laughter too.
Coins and smiles I give gladly,
so I may take more.

The hymns drift into a murmur
until stillness descends a second time.
Colours flood the stained glass.

Expectant the congregation
files towards the altar
on which sacrifice prolongs life.

I let doubt melt on my tongue.
Faith tastes of sun and earth.
 
Last edited by Dave on Tue Aug 18, 2020 4:32 am, edited 1 time in total.

Matty11
Posts: 1585
Joined: Thu Jan 11, 2018 7:58 pm

Re: Eulogy

Post by Matty11 » Mon Aug 17, 2020 3:00 pm

hi Dave,
The poem made me think of Colm's contract poem in a way - do this /get that arrangement. The concluding line felt pagan, as if Christain faith feeds from age-old, innate insecurities/anxieties. Liked the stained glass line, reminded me of cathedrals built to awe the medieval mind, colour their bleak existences.

enjoyed

Phil

Dave
Posts: 1991
Joined: Mon Jan 08, 2018 9:07 am

Re: Eulogy

Post by Dave » Tue Aug 18, 2020 4:30 am

Thanks Matty
I have written a number of poems about church though I am really not religious. However, I do like the rituals and the sense of the mysterious. The sun and earth are of course the wine and bread which symbolically or not are the body and blood. How pagan can it possibly be? I did notice a really stupid line in the poem now whereby the congregation line up for communion on the knees :-).
Interesting connection you make to Colm's poem , certainly see that.
Dave

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Colm Roe
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Joined: Sun Jan 07, 2018 12:45 am

Re: Eulogy

Post by Colm Roe » Tue Aug 25, 2020 6:08 pm

The days start on Sunday
with lies I feel safe behind.

I let doubt melt on my tongue.
Faith tastes of sun and earth.


The body between the 1st and last stanzas are good. But those stanzas are so good.
They start and wrap it up wonderfully.
Especially
with lies I feel safe behind.
I let doubt melt on my tongue.

A poem in itself.

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