Free verse № 106302
The Riddle of Creation
Imagine knowing there is no such thing as death,
Knowing you will be reunited with passed loved ones,
Sure that God is watching you with loving eyes,
Waiting with a shining world ready to receive you.
Imagine knowing without a shade of doubt
God will take care of His own.
What comfort to know the riddle of creation.
25 comments
Once upon a time there was a poetry website unpolluted by the dismal contributions of garden variety troglodytes. Unfortunately that Utopia didn't have a snowball's chance. What with morons and imbeciles throughout the globe with ready access to a keyboard and an internet connection. So it goes. All things wind down to a kind of muddy miserable indifference. This site has transformed into a 500 pound drooling mongoloid who thinks she sports a thong just as seductively as Anna Kornikova(sp). What's worse is when she's confronted by an accurate reflection in a full length mirror, she declares her right to do as she pleases. Of course this should come as no surprise, seeing how low standards are pervasive throughout modern culture, but still it is heartbreaking. The silver has become dross, the wine mixed with water.
How much thought did you put into this poem? How much have you studied about the craft of writing poetry? If this poem is any measure I would have to assume the answer to both these questions would be 'none'.
The title presumes you know what the riddle is, which is completely impossible because of the strong possibility there's no riddle at all. Your poem doesn't even deal with creation, the six lines you've written deal exclusively with redemption and the unconditional love of an omnipotent deity.
Now, all that aside, you are telling and not showing, which for me, is the hallmark of a crap poem. In your Quiet Hills poem you show us what's going on, you leave it to the reader to decide the meaning. Your emotions and contemplations are revealed by the words you've chosen to build the images. Here you are flat out telling me that God has a special Wonderland where we all go after death and all the dear ones are there wearing party hats, hiding behind the furniture just waiting to shout surprise everytime someone new steps in. There's no reason why you shouldn't believe and hope for such loving justice,I agree it would be grand. My opinion is, if you want to write a poem about your faith in the power of love to redeem this tragedy of living then it would be far more interesting and touching to show me what in your life has convinced you of this. That goes for any poem about any subject. As the audience I want to share the experience of the poet, I don't want to be told 'hey this is what I think'. As far as craft goes, there is not even one of the usual devices of poetry found here.
Now as far as the actual language, there is such a thing as death, whether or not it's only earthly death is besides the point. Things die, and we suffer and grow because of it. Death is important, it allows us to appreciate life. So right of the bat your asking us to imagine something that is impossible to imagine. You contradict yourself in the 2nd line by saying 'passed' you can argue all you want, but in every languages that I know of, 'passing' is simply a euphomism for death. In the couplet the second line is really a threat. "...His own."? This implies some are not His. You know it isn't really Heaven if not everyone gets to go. The last line your stating you know the riddle of creation? Do you? And if you honestly do, you're not touching on it here. Enless you're saying the riddle of creation is God loves you. How is that a riddle?
This poem is pretty obviously the exact opposite of "a promotional poem for God". The idea of a "riddle of creation" that it's a "comfort" to know would be foreign and absurd to any right-minded God-believer, for one thing. And any Christian, Hindoo, or Islam silly enough to think of creation as a riddle would be comforted by the thought that he knew the answer, not the riddle, anyway.
Let me save you some time. The riddle is some variation on, "Does this life-long wearying trudge through neck-high guff-drifts mean anything more than the senile after-supper ramblings of a forgotten elderly as he is dressed for bed?"
But you already knew that, because you're not pursuing the riddle; you're pursuing the ANSWER to the riddle, get it???!?
If I'm wrong and you ARE pursuing the riddle, then you are the most hopeless person alive, and should devote your time to riddles that will have a more immediate impact on your existence, such as "How can I remember to put my pants on OUTSIDE my underpants?" (Hint: a mnemonic!) or "Now, where did I leave my children?" (Frozen Foods!)
I don't understand. Are you writing in "tongues?"
I'm guessing that you're talking about god'swife's comment, though. I don't think it was really the subjsct matter that upset her as much as the comment by Macfan. See, many people on here are of the mindset that you should not encourage those that should not continue to embarrass themselves by posting to this or any other poetry site. I include myself in that mindset (although I'm probably one of the ones who should stop embarrasing themselves). I just choose to not be as harsh as some other people.
and hey, mediocre's good enough for me. ;0)
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