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The Riddle of Creation (Free verse) by Dovina 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.
Up the ladder:
Library Window
Down the ladder:
Two Mirrors
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 7.3333335
Posted: June 22, 2004 10:14 PM PDT; Last modified: June 22, 2004 10:14 PM PDTWeighted score: 6.1666665 Overall Rank: 1032 Comments:
Perfect for "Seventh Day Adventist's Monthly." Not my pint of ale. Why do we capitalize the word god? It can't be a name. Isn't it an occupation? It is a little like capitalizing the word mechanic or poet. I'll stick to capitalizing only the name of god, Guinness, Jose Cuervo and the like. I know, hate the subject not the poem. -9-
My vote for comment of the month*******
I think it CAN be a name. I bet if someone wanted to they could legally change their name to God (actually, I think someone did not long ago). If you wanted to, I don't see how anyone could stop you...other than....God...
That's a nice little fairy-tale, but I don't buy it.
Not even if I come to Tennessee, listen to your music, and not insist on a hyphenated name?
Depends on if you're female and how hot you are. ;0)
I am a medocre female who has upset everyone on Poemranker by unintentionally making them think I have written a promotional poem for God. That is one of three interpretions, make that four, and I'm looking for anyone who cah see one of the others, better yet, someone who can see the ambiguity that is me, that is this poem, that has lived here before, that is not a bigot. Yes, I am hot now, but not, probably as you want. I drive men away like this.
I don't think you've upset anyone on this site by doing whatever it is you think you've done. Certainly not Dan garcia-Black, who couldn't interpret his way out of a week-old cod-bonnet.
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.
Still, it would be a comfort to KNOW such answers. I envy anyone able to be so comforted, truly envy them. For me, it's a riddle I feel compeled to pursue til I die, even knowing I cannot solve it. I wish no harm or disbelief to people of faith, and hope not to disple their confidence. I like to say I'm wiser and sader, but really I'm just sader.
re "it's a riddle I feel compeled to pursue til I die"
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!)
Then I am the most hopeless person alive.
Forget it.
Zidiot-
I don't understand. Are you writing in "tongues?"
Hey, Zodiac, did you consider that Danâs comment could be taken several ways, as my poem hopefully can. He might have really meant that I would like to see it appear in "Seventh Day Adventist's Monthly" or some similar publication. He could have meant that for it to so appear would be ludicrous. When he says, âPerfect for . . . â heâs probably being facetious, meaning that it is far less than perfect for such a publication because the poem contains hints that such unbreakable faith is not attainable except in self-deception. I think he just might be able to interpret his way out of a week-old cod-bonnet.
You mean... he might have meant what he said - or he might simply have been acting silly?? What an astonishing observation!!!!!1!
PS-I propose that your idea of interpretation is not a correct one.
I don't think you've upset anyone (and if they're upset about something like this they're too stupid to worry about having upset them). I, myself, am not the least bit upset. Everybody's searching for something and if that's what you're searching for then thats cool.
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) 333 view(s)
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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?