I keep meaning to go
To the church I so
Often pass. It’s gravestones
Say, “skin and bone
Must fade away”.
So I know
I will go
To church one day.
I keep meaning to go
To the church I so
Often pass. It’s gravestones
Say, “skin and bone
Must fade away”.
So I know
I will go
To church one day.
Sometimes, when I consider the state of the world, I am reminded of the Irish poet W. B. Yeats’s poem The Second Coming. I am no millenarian, however the poet’s Second Coming continues to resonate with me
Caught in useless thought
On a sunny day,
I entered that place
Of light and shade.
That unknown space
Where we
Are made
To face
Our own mortality.
On hearing the bells chime
I think on time.
Although there is no
Clock in the church tower
To measure my brief hour.
Seeming.
Yet merely
Dreaming,
Until we
Enter eternity.
A tall tree
Arrested me
As I
Passed by
The churchyard yesterday.
When I
Go away
The tree will stay.
And others will pass by.
And, perhaps, think as I.
Beyond dark
And light,
I face
Eternal night.
I have recently subscribed to the Poetry Foundation’s Audio Poem of the Day. The poem for Monday 6 July is Emily Dickinson’s “I Started Early – Took My Dog”, https://www.poetryfoundation.org/podcasts/75386/i-started-early-took-my-dog-656.
To me, Dickinson’s poem is full of erotic imagery:
“But no Man moved Me – till the Tide
Went past my simple Shoe –
And past my Apron – and my Belt
And past my Boddice – too –
And made as He would eat me up –
As wholly as a Dew
Opon a Dandelion’s Sleeve –
And then – I started – too –
And He – He followed – close behind –
I felt His Silver Heel
Opon my Ancle – Then My Shoes
Would overflow with Pearl –
Until We met the Solid Town –
No One He seemed to know –
And bowing – with a Mighty look –
At me – The Sea withdrew –”.
The above could be read as a description of the sexual act. In particular the poem’s ending, “the sea withdrew” does, I think need no further comment from me.
Dickinson was a deeply religious lady. Yet religion and the erotic are not mutually exclusive. But perhaps my interpretation is wrong, and the poem is what it says it is, a description of a woman’s trip (real or imagined) to the sea, and how the tide nearly overwhelmed her.
I would, as always be interested in the views of my readers.
There are no gods.
Men are but sods
In the end
My friend.
Yet we strive
To stay alive.
And some pretend
That there are gods.
But we are sods
In the end
My friend.
Though, the poet’s work may survive
Long after his eyes
Have closed.
And, who knows,
Perchance he may find, at his end
That we are more than mere
Sods.
Yet I fear
That there are no gods.
And we are but sods
In the end
My friend.
A humorous reimagining of Church of England services in the light of the Corana Virus/COVID-19, https://www.salisburyreview.com/blog/certain-amendments-to-the-liturgy-and-hymnody-of-the-church-of-england-for-the-duration-of-the-present-emergency/.