Thread: Beneath the Grass He Sleeps

removed for publication

Very nice poem Svir. The last lines are a good ending, a bit of an unexpected twist... always a great finish. The only nit I have is a very small one.
In this line:

like a cool benign blanket.

I think if you cut the 'like', it would make the image feel more alive and immediate to the reader.

Either way, great job!

I agree with gumby, this is a sweet poem. simple descriptive imagery that provides a strong vehicle for setting the contrast between the two comparative themes. On the first reading I got caught up on the transition from stanza four to the following stanza, but then again, I generally am in these kind of tricks. "I sneezed yellow" is a wonderfully obscure phrase. It stands alone in some mysterious way, yet provides a sharp, "pause imperative" that propels the reader into the following stanza. I am not like gumby in so far as thinking the like has got to go in the fifth st. As it stands it forms a very subtle simile and maybe gives a purpose to sneezing yellow. The ending makes a bold and emphatic statement, while still retaining a simplicity, which provides much of the charm to this piece.

regards

jeffrey

Originally Posted by SvirVolgate

Beneath the Grass He Sleeps (He? Or They?)

It took me twenty two years
to realize that my parents’ Catholic church
was built across from an Indian burial mound. (Check Out The Works Of George Catlin And His Paintings Held In The Smithsonian)

I’ve sat on both, the long, stained
wooden pews, filled with smelly old women (Im Not Sure I Understand This Part)
and their guilty husbands,

and the grass-covered pile of dirt
bones, clay-pot shards, and arrowheads.

I’ve breathed in the frankincense
and watched the smoke disperse
and disappear, like a prayer. I’ve sneezed yellow (neat break here)

pollen in the park, helped the trees
copulate and stretch shade (Extremley provacitive....even for trees.....the second story in here is confusing to me, who is the husband and wife?)
across the dead Tocobaga natives, like a cool benign blanket.

I’ve been to both monuments
to corpses since I was a God-eyed boy ,
breaking picnic bread with the Webelos

and I’ve realized: I can’t live on Eucharist alone,
and there’s nothing beneath the grass
worth digging for.

(Thoughtful End)

Beneath took me,
built across with arrowheads
that watched like a prayer

and then stretched the shade across
like a cool benign blanket

I was God-eyed beneath






Where Are You From By The Way?

Absolutely wonderful.....Peace...Jul