A God Listens

A God Listens

A Poem by JustPlainHere
"

A draft.

"
A spire shoots out
like the bare bone
of a frigid earth,
buttress swinging
like wings
a half fossil -
gargoyles too aged to break
from their mold -

      (would have to shed their green,
        their own sky.)

   The earth has an aperture,
     the wind in it rushing.
        He almost sees
        shadows rise
    on something like windows
        like a late flood,
      a cloud entering the blue
            swallowing and sweeping away
            the comings and goings of all life.

      The congregation,
                        and its plainsong
      spills into lanes now,
                  has become a highway,
        jettisoned across the sky,
                   mushroomed into it - up, up, and above;

   it might still be heard in the long history of itself,
        might have folded around the long, drawn out sound
               of a voice - the guttural, the held tone
                        purposely prolonged - 
                  a pitch recognizing a pitch - one fourth of its harmony,
      might have latched onto
                  a tunneling sound in the wind,
      streaming past a pair of doors
            with the traces of a note,
                   that could've been, to someone a few feet away, 
       at a visible distance, mistaken for a choir
                 one eighth or sixteenth of its harmony,
      might have paused in a basin in a desert
                with a slow gradual swaying
    with the memory of the space of a ceiling - 
                the acoustics of the dome
   made to cradle it, shelter it,
           might have quieted
                    in the deafening dark 
                         pit of a throat 
                      that has stopped nourishing itself,
                 that has dried to dust, but still holds
              the propensity for a song, a percentage
                    halved, and halved to eternity,
                           to nothing.
    

© 2023 JustPlainHere


Author's Note

JustPlainHere
A draft, so review away.

My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register




Reviews

So many songs among the spires and steeples, so many bells and calls to prayer across the earth. I sometimes wonder if we aren't one great noise reverberating into heaven or if we can be heard at all above the roar of jet engines and automobiles. I enjoyed the read.

Posted 1 Year Ago


Not only deep but very satisfying to one who longs to create a broader path in what he writes. This show you are not only talented but intelligent as well. Your poem may be a draft but to me it is fantastic the way it sits.

Posted 1 Year Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

JustPlainHere

1 Year Ago

Thank you so much for such kind words. This means quite a bit and will definitely be helpful when i.. read more
Wow! So many thoughts provoked of all that’s come and gone throughout history. If only those spires could talk or send back to us the reverberations of music past. I’d like to be a fly on the wall.

Posted 1 Year Ago



Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

62 Views
3 Reviews
Added on January 18, 2023
Last Updated on January 20, 2023
Tags: Poem, Poetry, Freeverse, Freeform, Spiritual, Humannature, Nature

Author

JustPlainHere
JustPlainHere

FL



About
Poets on life: “Oh, must we dream our dreams and have them, too?” ― Elizabeth Bishop “Art is the child of nature in whom we trace the features of the mothers face.&rdqu.. more..

Writing