Free verse № 141390
My Prayer
Spirit of God, flow through me,
Fill my being and set me free
From bondages that this life brings
From money, pride and prejudice.
Spirit of God, sanctify me
Wash me now and make me clean;
That I might learn the path youâve made
For me, that leads to amazing grace.
Spirit of God, I love you so
I live for you and want to know
How I can change my life to be
With you for all eternity.
18 comments
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Your mango pickle poem hinted at some tantalizing things to write about. And the show I watched had some interesting bits about the Portugese influence on the culture and about certain things for which Goa is apparently known (terra cotta art, the food, etc.) You've got a rich and--to me--exotic background to draw on.
Since you mentioned non-Christian reactions, Iâll give you mine. Poems like this, to me, read like the same old tired proselytizing. Thereâs no hook to draw me in. I think there are some fantastic religious poems: Anne Sextonâs âWelcome Morningâ comes to mind (mainly because she weaves in the homey details that make it accessible and, even for a nonbeliever, relevant). I also think thereâs a lot of awful religious poetry. And what makes most of it awful is that it comes off as smug and preachy. Whatever they may think, Christians have no more automatic peace of mind or insight than anyone else. What they may have is a different perspective. If you donât make that perspective interesting and accessible, though, then youâll only attract readers who already believe what you believe. Poetry is in the details.
Good luck with your book.
There is joy
in all:
in the hair I brush each morning,
in the Cannon towel, newly washed,
that I rub my body with each morning,
in the chapel of eggs I cook
each morning,
in the outcry from the kettle
that heats my coffee
each morning,
in the spoon and the chair
that cry "hello there, Anne"
each morning,
in the godhead of the table
that I set my silver, plate, cup upon
each morning.
All this is God,
right here in my pea-green house
each morning
and I mean,
though often forget,
to give thanks,
to faint down by the kitchen table
in a prayer of rejoicing
as the holy birds at the kitchen window
peck into their marriage of seeds.
So while I think of it,
let me paint a thank-you on my palm
for this God, this laughter of the morning,
lest it go unspoken.
The Joy that isn't shared, I've heard,
dies young.
Anne Sexton revels in happy god-aspects of ordinary things in her life. Amanda could use her Goa experience to the same goal, but instead she is expositional and self-searching, but not proselytizing in my opinion. Both are good techniques. I donât prefer either on that basis.
I enjoy Anne Sexton.
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Actually, this poem is quite different from much of Sexton's poetry. She's often much darker. This is one of the few poems among her collection, The Awful Rowing to God, that doesn't deal with her struggle to find peace and balance in her life. In the end, faith didn't save her from suicide.
I'm not sure what you mean by "expositional" in this context. If it were more expositional and less vague and broad, I'd probably like it better. As a nonbeliever, there's nothing in Mandy's poem to draw me in.
I promise it will make your book that much better.
PINK, FLESHY LIFE GIVER.
WOMEN OR MEN?
BOW DOWN.
SUCCUMB!
OUR PASSAGE THROUGH.
WITHOUT IT.
IS BUT NUMB!
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