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Open Poetry #44
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Quest for Grace
| Open Poetry #44 |
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Quest for Grace |
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Marc-Andre Senior Member
since 2008-12-07
Posts 501 |
In the inner court the lifting fog unveiled a cold March morning As I trod the herringbone brick path that led me to a place Seen in one disturbing vision, though I couldn’t name a reason, In my mind a wild obsession, dream that I could not erase; T’was as if on it there rested the fate of the human race: Find a lady christened Grace. Eerily the town was sleeping, no sound breaking nature’s rustling, Black crows ravaged garbage while the alley cats mice would deface; From the North the wind got blowing, frozen sparrows started singing, In the sky a pale sun rising, sand and dust filling the space; In grey space faint sun rays, breeze and sand were shuffling on my face: But of Grace there was no trace. When I reached the stairwell landing of the tan torn face brick building Soon my iced up nostrils thawed with the bouquet of bouillabaisse; But of human steps or breath no sound but my responding echo; On the inner walls a fresco, on the floor a broken vase And some weathered relics from a golden age we can’t replace: Then I heard a double bass. With the double bass still playing, towards heights my way was winding As my heart was wildly pounding, charcoal sweat flowed down my face; As I climbed, a decrescendo, but my pulse in a stringendo, Moistened walls gave innuendo there my ghost I would encase, My remaining lifeblood wasted in a pointless chase of Grace; On the wall there leaned a mace. Coated in dank clay a shovel lay on red shale in a spandrel Through a cleft I saw a shadow, could it be the one of Grace? It was then I heard a rumble as the stairs below would crumble Walls shook plaster off in tumble, thus revealing a high place As I clutched the cast iron handrail, dangling feet in empty space, Struggling to the spandrel brace. Through the cleft I penetrated one grand sulphur-permeated Hall whose walls the still lifes of Cezanne and of van Gogh would trace, In a corner one antique hearse, blanketed with scrolls of black curse, And graffitied with Rimbaud’s verse, sketches of the Virgin’s face; Soon there closed a lady donning frock made of Chantilly lace: Thus appeared my lady Grace. Ashen was her smooth complexion though she bore no imperfection But coagulated blood that smeared her angelical face; Eyes were red as crimson tulips,she had charming purple full lips, But her neck and shoulders bore rips that e’en time could not efface; Soon I was laid on an ebony four-poster bed by Grace, Strongly held in her embrace. First as hard and cold as marble, murmuring exotic garble, She was like basalt that fused and melted, bonding in embrace; And inside her flowed pure manna, an eruption of hot lava, As she wildly cried “hosanna”, making love in that high place Thus I had succumbed to the existence’s game, the prisoner’s base, As I’d soon be told by Grace. On the balcony she and I, viewed the abyss fused with night sky As she firmly held my hand, she said Sheol was named the place; “Don’t despair, it’s not Gehanna,” her words flowing like pure manna Saying we shall our Rosetta stone decipher at our pace; I’ve had no desire since that time to rejoin the livings’ base: In Sheol I found my Grace. |
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| © Copyright 2009 Marc-Andre Germain - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Heart Shots Junior Member
since 2009-01-16
Posts 11 |
Very nice write. I am glad you found your Grace. |
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Earth Angel Member Empyrean
since 2002-08-27
Posts 40215Realms of Light |
My word! Good Lord! That was one Amazing quest for Grace!!! Excellent write! Engaged ~ and held, my rapt attention from beginning to end! Your descriptive imagery was mind-blowing! Love & God's Good Grace, EA  |
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Marc-Andre Senior Member
since 2008-12-07
Posts 501 |
Thanks for reading and taking the time to leave such nice comments  Mark |
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Robert E. Jordan Member Rara Avis
since 2008-01-25
Posts 8541Philadelphia, Pennsylvania |
Yo Marc-Andre, This tends to all run together. I would guess you're rather young. Read a lot of poetry. The Norton Anthologies are a good choice. Bobby |
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Marc-Andre Senior Member
since 2008-12-07
Posts 501 |
??? Bobby, not too sure I'm following you here...What do you mean by "it all runs together?" I do read a lot of poetry, and have done so for over at least ten years. I'm not old, but not very young either. Yes, the Norton Anthologies are good. But it's the first time I see someone suggesting that I lack background reading...I'm somewhat puzzled by your comment, please enlighten me Mark |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
Mark, bobby has been designated by Ocean as one of the dozen or so folks who actually have something to contribute, so maybe he will be back to enlighten you . Maybe we will all learn something . I think it was well written , makes me want to dig one out of my what happen pile. |
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ethome Member Patricius
since 2000-05-14
Posts 11858New Brunswick Canada |
In my opinion this is full of many many excellent word pictures, similies, metaphors, highly illustrative......AND it's also winsome to the in depth mood reader. However, the actual meaning of 'sheol' is mankind's common grave so there's imagination here to create a poetic structure to virtualize a place that doesn't actualy exist. That's my grace on the piece......(smile) Eric |
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Marc-Andre Senior Member
since 2008-12-07
Posts 501 |
Thanks for the feedback, Eric. It might help the reader here to know that "Sheol" (referred to in the Old Testament) was the abode of souls awaiting resurrection whereas "Gehanna" (as far as I know, only found in the New Testament) is hell proper, the place of everlasting misery. Also, a "high place" was a Jewish temple or altar usually built on a hill. I claim poetic license here for the few inconsistencies in building this surreal setting. If you do have suggestions that would better the poem, please don't hesitate to let me know. Chopsticks, thanks for reading and for the feedback. I'm sure that I have something to learn from Bobby, just as I've got something to learn from you and everybody else, and that WITHOUT exception (I once heard heavy metal singer Ronnie James Dio say that whenever there is one person who is touched/pleased, music has reason to be. I believe that the same goes for poetry.) I did feel his post was somewhat condescending...I won't speculate at whether it was so intended, and I do hope indeed that he will come back and leave us with something more constructive Here's what I do have an issue with, and I quote: "as one of the dozen or so folks who actually have something to contribute" I'll take it that I have nothing to contribute, and therefore: I shan’t pollute this board anew; I’ll leave it to the chosen few. Mark P.S. For those who do enjoy my poetry, I will only post poems on the "poetry workshop" forum in the future. Thanks for your support. [This message has been edited by Marc-Andre (01-17-2009 07:06 AM).] |
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ethome Member Patricius
since 2000-05-14
Posts 11858New Brunswick Canada |
While several derivations for the Hebrew word she’ohl′ have been offered, apparently it is derived from the Hebrew verb sha·’al′, meaning “ask; request.” Regarding Sheol, in A Compendious Hebrew Lexicon, Samuel Pike stated that it is “the common receptacle or region of the dead; so called from the insatiability of the grave, which is as it were always asking or craving more.” (Cambridge, 1811, p. 148) This would indicate that Sheol is the place (not a condition) that asks for or demands all without distinction, as it receives the dead of mankind within it.—Ge 37:35, ftn; Pr 30:15, 16. There is no English word that conveys the precise sense of the Hebrew word she’ohl′. Commenting on the use of the word “hell” in Bible translation, Collier’s Encyclopedia (1986, Vol. 12, p. 28) says: “Since Sheol in Old Testament times referred simply to the abode of the dead and suggested no moral distinctions, the word ‘hell,’ as understood today, is not a happy translation.” More recent versions transliterate the word into English as “Sheol.”—RS, AT, NW. Regarding Sheol, the Encyclopaedia Britannica (1971, Vol. 11, p. 276) noted: “Sheol was located somewhere ‘under’ the earth. . . . The state of the dead was one of neither pain nor pleasure. Neither reward for the righteous nor punishment for the wicked was associated with Sheol. The good and the bad alike, tyrants and saints, kings and orphans, Israelites and gentiles—all slept together without awareness of one another.” |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
“ I will only post poems on the "poetry workshop “ Not a bad idea Mark, nobody there will assume an air of superiority . I heard this from an old sailor : “ Don’t let them scuttle your scuppers Or you will be washed out to sea Don’t let them rub your nose in it Brush off your hands and keep on germfree” |
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ethome Member Patricius
since 2000-05-14
Posts 11858New Brunswick Canada |
I wouldn't be leaving here Marc. You have more to contribute than many others do. However, this is not a competition it's a place to express thoughts tied up in emotions and truths. Don't take a couple of opinions (which I believe were meant to be more helpful than harmful) too seriously and continue to express yourself in a fine poetic manner like you've been doing all along.. Eric |
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Marc-Andre Senior Member
since 2008-12-07
Posts 501 |
Chopsticks, thanks for your support. Your feedbacks are always appreciated, both positive and negative; they are always honest, constructive and fair. Eric, thanks for the extra information on Sheol. As I do intend to dig deeper into it, you do offer some nice start points. Of what I know, it is indeed a place without moral distinction, whereas Gehanna is the place for soul perdition. And indeed, the main inconsistency in the poem is that Sheol is located under ground; I am well aware of that but somehow, "it" insisted on going up...Little actually happened as planned, that's the pleasure I derive from meter and rhymes: they often make me take unexpected turns On that other matter, I do not see myself in a competition either. This is art, not the Olympics. I am open to critiques and can handle negative feedback. And to set the record straight, I didn't take much offense at Bobby's patronizing feedback, but he did pick on my curiosity...There's something in it eluding me, and I want to know. However, I do find the phrase "the dozen or so folks who actually have something to contribute" both offensive and most inappropriate. Taking it humorously, It reminds me of an old definition written in an I-don't-remember-what dictionary: Nobody: everybody in England except about 1,200. |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
“ Taking it humorously, It reminds me of an old definition written in an I-don't-remember-what dictionary: Nobody: everybody in England except about 1,200 ” Mark, that is funny and ironic, remember that the Mayflower brought 12 of them over here. And, they are unique, just like everybody else . |
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Balladeer
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-05
Posts 25505Ft. Lauderdale, Fl USA |
Marc, I agree with you 100%. One can learn from EVERYONE here, even when the learning is negative. Chopsticks may be referring to his own personal views but does not speak for the rest of us. You are a very welcome addition here and your dedication to poetry is to be envied. You do not take offence and are always appreciative of comments, positive and negative. Don't be turned off by inconsequentials. You keep posting and we'll keep reading. |
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Marc-Andre Senior Member
since 2008-12-07
Posts 501 |
Thanks for your supportive words, Balladeer. (By the way, as and when you've got some time, I'd like to have your feedback on "Quest for Grace"; it's written in the meter and rhyming scheme of Poe's The Raven - you've probably noticed that already - and I confess that for the internally-rhyming lines, I've used quite a few near-rhymes - you've surely noticed that already.) As for the "dozen folks or so who actually have something to contribute", I'll here make my peace with "them" with this mini Keatsian ode They’re truly more genteel than Jacob’s sons The twelve Olympians they shall outshine; They’re our appointed jury, our big guns, Their stellar verses God begs to enshrine. Of more import than the Majestic 12, They are the gospel. And I'm Ishmael, Who pens but verses wobbling as dog flews: I should my poems shelve. They must be the lost tribe of Israel For verily they are the Chosen Fews. |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
“ Chopsticks may be referring to his own personal views but does not speak for the rest of us.” You are right my friend and I doubt that you speak for the rest of us. |
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Balladeer
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-05
Posts 25505Ft. Lauderdale, Fl USA |
Marc, I'll be happy to work on it. It may take a little time because there is so much to dissect but I can see already that much of it is perfect while other parts have meter problems....and you took a LOT of liberty with those (Grrr!!!) near rhymes!  I'll get back to you  |
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