The Boy Sang Circles

First attempt at a prose poem. More description of what this kind of writing is supposed to accomplish can be found in my blog.

Young, yes, but even so the boy sang circles ‘round the sallow priest.  The older man was young, too, almost too young to shoulder his responsibilities.  Undisturbed by time, unbowed by gravity, he was still: tall, straight, like a candle, smelling of tallow, waxy and sinuous.  He burned dimly with certainty, the simple certainty of the taught.  This was the priest, but also burning was the song, the singer, for he sang circles unbroken, in simplicity complete.
Arms outstretched the priest defended himself, swept harm away, thin fingers waving like long grass.  The boy’s fingers were smaller still, spurs of heedless logic erected on innocent hands, too monkey-like to grasp the necessity of tradition.
"So, God knows what we will do tomorrow?”
"Yes, yes," answered the priest, annoyed already.  Always annoyed at the impositions of children, who call and caterwaul when they have not learned respect, who do not learn respect in an age of information, who do not shut their eyes against the dark awe of the ineffable in a time where physical science is evident even in their blinking flashing facile toys.  They could discern the shimmer of self-importance in any lie and, exploiting it, point out hypocrisy.  Even if the word was unknown to them.
Still spinning, light glinting from him, the boy was marvellous and profound without even trying.  "But we do what we want?"  His head flamed too, not the guttering candle flame but instead the true brightness of a star.
"Yes, yes," answered the priest, "we have free will."
"But God wants what is best?"  The boy sang, the circle tightened.
"Yes, yes," answered the priest.  "God always wants the best.  Everything is for the best, for God has willed it."
"So what I do tomorrow God already sees.  What God wants is the best.  If what he saw was not best, he would change it."  The boy was concluding that everything was for the best, all he did was for the best, for this was always the best of all possible worlds.  And his head rang with the circuit of the song, for it came back around and completed itself.

The priest pinched fingers at his nose.  "You do not understand."

Author's Note

Prose poetry.

Reviews

[Elephants & Coyotes]

Ohh, how much do I love this!
And, your VOICE.
I love stumbling across great writers - but, it's even better when they find me, first!
The mood setting of this piece is perfect, and I love the idea being played with.
And, the way you spoke of each bit of it,
"almost too young to shoulder his responsibilities."
"Undisturbed by time, unbowed by gravity"
and THIS
"spurs of heedless logic erected on innocent hands, too monkey-like to grasp the necessity of tradition."

I want to quote this entire piece and comment on each, bit by bit, just to show you "how" I am appreciating it.

Can't wait to read more of your work!

[TLK]

I've had a number of ideas for prose poetry burning inside me since I learned of the concept just a few weeks ago. This is the most recent idea I had -- yet simultaneously it was the one that needed to be written with the most demand. I just really enjoyed the idea of the boy spinning around the priest, like an impossibly thin moral guardian trying to use a hula-hoop.

My own current definition of prose poetry is that it has consonance (which I can do), assonance (which I'm still working on -- what I have feels accidental, but then again maybe that is a good thing), and rhythm. It can feature and rhyme, including internal rhyme, but rhyme is often the least important part of any poetry to me so I do not worry about it.

However, being poetry, it MUST have imagery. I thought about the priest's hands and immediately needed to juxtapose the child's. I thought that his grubby paws could show a lack of an adult's grip on the world, a lack of the certainty of mature strength. The boy can ask questions and demolish systems simply because he is small, lithe, fast, can weave between the answers and does not need their dependability because he has not yet put down roots.

So, that's why I included that image.

[Elephants & Coyotes]

Love the decisions you made in this!
Assonance is fun and sneaky.
It makes your pieces work in ways similar to rhyme, without the elementary feel.

I like to rhyme in offbeat ways or use things like alliteration and assonance - but sparingly.

Alliteration can be overdone easily, when you set out to use it, on purpose. Sometimes, it just "happens," at the perfect moments.

But, when you stumble across just the right amount of alliteration, at just the right moment in a poem, it can have a great affect!

Lovee discussing poetry and what makes it work.
I'm still very much an amateur, as I don't understand a LOT that I do and try to do. But, it's a lovely pasttime that does wonders for me and my perspective of and approach to the world.

[TLK]

I'm a little addicted to alliteration. I find it really hard to edit it out when it comes up, even if it is an overwhelming profusion.

[Elephants & Coyotes]

A little assonance goin' on, in that comment.. =p

[Pax]

their talk was interesting...
"So, God knows what we will do tomorrow?”
~ i think that there are more than on what we know about god...its still a mysterious case for me but then i believe his just there watching...

[TLK]

I am very pleased that this piece prompted thoughts in you. You are a very receptive reader.

[Emmanuel Ezeagwu]

In one word: ...Fascinating.

[TLK]

Thank you for being fascinated.

[Lilly Negoi]

circles in the sand :)

i can't help being biased towards the boy - although officially i'm a christian, orthodox, unofficially i have this issue with the traditions of religion and priests and so on. therefore i couldn't stop a smile when i got to the line "if what he saw was not the best, he would change it" - what a beautifully comfortable umbrella under which to shelter one's self-assurance!

i like the tone of this, a little ambiguous, with a shade of uncertainty and a grain of "maybe" left hanging unsaid at the corner of lines :).

[TLK]

There are probably maybes at the corner of my mouth. I am infested with them. They are the lice that thrive in the pelt of the doubtful monkey.

[Alex Hunter]

Very detailed and interesting. Being Jewish, I've never known much about priests and stuff. This poem was has a very smooth atmosphere and I enjoyed this poem very much :). Also, the ending stood out to me. The boy speaks his thoughts in a very intelligent way and yet, the priest says the boy doesn't understand.

[TLK]

I don't know much about priests either, I managed to avoid them even though one side of my family was Eastern Orthodox.

I wonder if the priest will ever realise that his disparaging of the child was false...