| Poem: Submit | Random | Best | Worst | Recent | Comments |
|
JJâs Church (Free verse) by Dovina Soft candles flicker through vodka
while quiet voices prepare.
Pastor Sheala works the pulpit
serving comfort and wine.
Church Administrator, Rose
looks at books and over shoulders.
Ushers prepare the elements
for perhaps the last supper.
And I, the only parishioner
break substitutionary bread
sip transubstantiated blood
read the word
and receive a blessing.
Amen
Up the ladder:
Astronomy and Pharmaceuticals
Down the ladder:
To Fly
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 7.0
Posted: March 15, 2005 7:13 AM PST; Last modified: March 16, 2005 6:35 AM PSTWeighted score: 5.537883 Overall Rank: 2615 Comments:
[8]
edpeterson @ 68.79.58.164
|
15-Mar-05/9:05 AM
|
Reply
Substitutionary is funny. Dyn-O-MITE!
[n/a]
Dovina @ 12.72.10.39
> edpeterson
|
15-Mar-05/12:38 PM
|
Reply
Funny, I wasnât laughing when I ate the bread and wrote the line.
What's this about? Since the elders are setting "tables," there must be quite a few of them (since the poem mentions 1 paritioner, 1 administrator, and 1 pastor). Is the poem about the otherizing -- everyone but you is an elder/pastor/administrator? Like your other religious-themed poetry, I'm afraid the meaning is lost on me.
Thatâs ok. I donât expect everyone to relate events the way I do or remember traumas and pleasures so similar to mine that connections pop up spontaneously in the same way they do for me. Maybe the reason I write so many poems, and so many of them are not understood is that my history is more tangled in incongruities than most. Itâs comments like yours that show me a need to get beyond the place of feeling a connection to the place where I can relate it someone of different background.
I was sitting at a bar one evening recently, the only customer in the place, while Sheala, the bartender, dealt me the comforting talk a bartender is supposed to. Itâs her profession to serve wine and comfort, and she did it with the concern and dedication of a church pastor. The bar seemed like a pulpit in my youthful church, and the waiters setting tables in the adjoining restaurant seemed like the elders, admittedly a stretch. Watching over everything was Rose, the proprietor. Thereâs a deep connection between bar emotions and church emotions. Check it out sometime when youâre in either place.
By the grace of god, I no longer visit churches _or_ bars. Thanks for the explanation. One of the better things about poemranker: it's interesting to get inside the mind of the poet. Of course, this is one of the worst parts of poemranker, as well: the mind of a poet can be an ugly place. The poem makes much more sense now. Thanks for clarifying.
The metaphor is too clumsy. If the setting is a bar make the setting a bar. Gently allude to the nature of a church, the wine, amen, comfort etc. There is no way in the world we can be expected to assume the elders are waiters. How about using a religious word like transubstantiation figuratively.
The waiters are more related to ushers, I think, than elders. I used the idea of transubstantiation in âsip the bloodâ but might try to work the word in too.
what a loaf.
I'll never go to another steakhouse bar and feel secular again. JJ's Steakhouse Church is a holey (sic) place
What are you using as "substitutionary bread" in a bar? Pretzels?
Other than that(My own silly curious nature), good comparison.
The pretzels or breadsticks substitute for flesh of a dying person. In the church sacrament, bread substitutes for, and identifies the worshiper with, the body of Jesus. In the bar, I was thinking of my own death, but thought the poem would ramble too much if I went into that.
I love how you avoided the question by giving an open ended answer to a closed question. "I asked what you used as subtitutionary bread", not, what the substitutionary bread ment. lol. I have been a humble patron to both churches, and a bars.
"for perhaps the last supper. And I, the only parishioner" Vague, but its there. Your questioning death was the key reason I love this. It fit perfect. Some more images of perhaps, a confessional of some sort(Karoke), stained glass windows(Only think dirty or broken window), and an offering plate(Tip cup maybe), would be easily inserted, and play up the comparison a bit more. <3 Jason
she said pretzels.
Actually, she said "pretzels or breadsticks", which unless you count breadsticks and pretzels as the same thing. Which, unless I'm seriously more dim than even I imagined, they are not.
<3 Jason
Yeah, stained/dirty glass, offering plate/tip jar - good suggestions. Then there's the laying on of hands (on thighs, and have you ever seen someone slain in the spirit or passed out on the floor of a bar? I hate to think what the Brits will come up with.
Heaven help us all...
303 view(s)
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
