Prayer to an empty heaven

[trophos]

edit 1 - thanks to Mikeodial for the stanza break suggestions

Let love keep its distance.
Let me delight in the scent of clean laundry.
Let there be sheets to fold, trash to take out,
coffee to make in the mornings, alarm clocks to set.

Let the evening sun wash my walls with gold,
but let love keep its distance.
I will walk in parks on afternoons
which would otherwise be empty, I will walk
and watch the pigeons circling overhead.
There will be no room for eagles.
My life will be crowded with the quotidian,
my life will pass apart from passion.
Not for me the sea-tangled curls of Ariadne,
the sacrifice of Alcestis, the wild rage of Achilles
with its infinity of regret.

Grant me instead
proper piety, and a yearning for a solitary bed.
I will wander in the wide palm of some unnamed lake,
fishing with neither bait nor hook. Let there be a light wind.
Let the clouds be thin. Let there be nothing spectacular.

When evening falls I will sit in an unexceptional house
beside a casual fire, rocking in a rocking chair
that has no past attached to it.
Let there be no full moons for me.

In spring and summer I will watch peonies open
in my garden, in the fall I will gather sweet peas
from the vine, and in winter watch the snow cover all sign
of my most mild efforts. Thus let the years go by, changing only
in the unchanging rotation of the seasons, changing only
in the slant of shadows from the trees. Let the trees grow tall.

Let me never desire more than a clean bathtub and hot water to fill it.
Let me forget the long lament of loneliness.
Let love keep its distance.

***

Let love keep its distance.
Let me delight in the scent of clean laundry.
Let there be sheets to fold, trash to take out,
coffee to make in the mornings, alarm clocks to set.
Let the evening sun wash my walls with gold,
but let love keep its distance.
I will walk in parks on afternoons
which would otherwise be empty, I will walk
and watch the pigeons circling overhead.
There will be no room for eagles.
My life will be crowded with the quotidian,
my life will pass apart from passion.
Not for me the sea-tangled curls of Ariadne,
the sacrifice of Alcestis, the wild rage of Achilles
with its infinity of regret. Grant me instead
proper piety, and a yearning for a solitary bed.
I will wander in the wide palm of some unnamed lake,
fishing with neither bait nor hook. Let there be a light wind.
Let the clouds be thin. Let there be nothing spectacular.
When evening falls I will sit in an unexceptional house
beside a casual fire, rocking in a rocking chair
that has no past attached to it. Let there be no full moons for me.
In spring and summer I will watch peonies open
in my garden, in the fall I will gather sweet peas
from the vine, and in winter watch the snow cover all sign
of my most mild efforts. Thus let the years go by, changing only
in the unchanging rotation of the seasons, changing only
in the slant of shadows from the trees. Let the trees grow tall.
Let me never desire more than a clean bathtub and hot water to fill it.
Let me forget the long lament of loneliness.
Let love keep its distance.

[Mikeodial]

Prayer to an empty heaven

Let love keep its distance.
Let me delight in the scent of clean laundry.
Let there be sheets to fold, trash to take out,
coffee to make in the mornings, alarm clocks to set.

Let the evening sun wash my walls golden,
but let love keep its distance.
I will walk in parks on afternoons
which would otherwise be empty,
I will walk and watch the pigeons circling overhead.
There will be no room for eagles.
My life will be crowded with the quotidian,
my life will pass apart from passion.
Not for me the sea-tangled curls of Ariadne,
the sacrifice of Alcestis, the wild rage of Achilles
with its infinity of regret.

Grant me instead
proper piety, and a yearning for a solitary bed.
I will wander in the wide palm of some unnamed lake,
fishing with neither bait nor hook.
Let there be a light wind.
Let the clouds be thin.
Let there be nothing spectacular.

When evening falls I will sit in an unexceptional house
beside a casual fire, rocking in a rocking chair
that has no past attached to it.
Let there be no full moons for me.

In spring and summer I will watch peonies open
in my garden, in the fall I will gather sweet peas
from the vine, and in winter watch the snow cover all sign
of my most mild efforts. Thus let the years go by, changing only
in the unchanging rotation of the seasons, changing only
in the slant of shadows from the trees. Let the trees grow tall.

Let me never desire more than a clean bathtub and hot water to fill it.
Let me forget the long lament of loneliness.
Let love keep its distance.





I think this connects more with the reader when broken into some verses as above.

The "let me" repetition is compelling, in waves, giving the reader the pause for thought and letting the thought seep in.

Not sure if the final line was a "call to Love" or a call to repel it. Might want to sharpen it up to make your intention clear.

Let love keep its distance.
Let me delight in the scent of clean laundry.
Let there be sheets to fold, trash to take out,
coffee to make in the mornings, alarm clocks to set.
Let the evening sun wash my walls with gold,
but let love keep its distance.
I will walk in parks on afternoons
which would otherwise be empty, I will walk
and watch the pigeons circling overhead.
There will be no room for eagles.
My life will be crowded with the quotidian,
my life will pass apart from passion.
Not for me the sea-tangled curls of Ariadne,
the sacrifice of Alcestis, the wild rage of Achilles
with its infinity of regret. Grant me instead
proper piety, and a yearning for a solitary bed.
I will wander in the wide palm of some unnamed lake,
fishing with neither bait nor hook. Let there be a light wind.
Let the clouds be thin. Let there be nothing spectacular.
When evening falls I will sit in an unexceptional house
beside a casual fire, rocking in a rocking chair
that has no past attached to it. Let there be no full moons for me.
In spring and summer I will watch peonies open
in my garden, in the fall I will gather sweet peas
from the vine, and in winter watch the snow cover all sign
of my most mild efforts. Thus let the years go by, changing only
in the unchanging rotation of the seasons, changing only
in the slant of shadows from the trees. Let the trees grow tall.
Let me never desire more than a clean bathtub and hot water to fill it.
Let me forget the long lament of loneliness.
Let love keep its distance.

[trophos]

ooh, thank you! I love the stanzas, I agree that it's much more accessible that way. I wrote this ages ago, so I had no idea where to start with revisions, it's so settled and done in my head. I'll mess around with the last line. I appreciate the feedback

[rowens]

This is pretty good. I might come back with better ideas. One thing I thought so far was:

Let love keep its distance.
Let me delight in the scent of clean laundry,
sheets to fold, trash to take out,
coffee to make in the mornings, alarm clocks to set.

All I did was trim the third line and make a comma in the second. It messes up your rhythm, but it's something to think about.

[heslopian]

edit 1 - thanks to Mikeodial for the stanza break suggestions

Let love keep its distance.
Let me delight in the scent of clean laundry. On second reading, this could be seen as having a sexual connotation (clean sheets, not muddied with human spillage).
Let there be sheets to fold, trash to take out, This is a small thing, but "trash to take out" is something which, in my pop culture-addled brain, is associated with relationships and families ("it's your turn to take the trash out" etc.), which for me slightly works against your chastity theme.
coffee to make in the mornings, alarm clocks to set.

Let the evening sun wash my walls with gold, This is a bit cliché. I'd probably have started this verse with L3. JMO.
but let love keep its distance.
I will walk in parks on afternoons
which would otherwise be empty, I will walk Slight hint of solipsism here, which I like.
and watch the pigeons circling overhead.
There will be no room for eagles.
My life will be crowded with the quotidian, Hint of a lonely scholar here.
my life will pass apart from passion.
Not for me the sea-tangled curls of Ariadne,
the sacrifice of Alcestis, the wild rage of Achilles
with its infinity of regret. Good shift into mythology; furthers that earlier hint of the scholar.

Grant me instead
proper piety, and a yearning for a solitary bed. "Piety" is a Godly term, which makes me think that this poem is about religious chastity. Is it written from that perspective, or is it more of an atheistic fear of how wounding and possessive romantic love can be?
I will wander in the wide palm of some unnamed lake, This evokes a Jesus-walking-on-water image. Just an observation.
fishing with neither bait nor hook. Ditto, but with the "fishers of men".
Let there be a light wind.
Let the clouds be thin. Let there be nothing spectacular. Great line, rich with an austere un-sentimentality.

When evening falls I will sit in an unexceptional house
beside a casual fire, rocking in a rocking chair
that has no past attached to it. Ditto. Ditto this whole verse, in fact.
Let there be no full moons for me.

In spring and summer I will watch peonies open
in my garden, in the fall I will gather sweet peas
from the vine, and in winter watch the snow cover all sign
of my most mild efforts. Thus let the years go by, changing only
in the unchanging rotation of the seasons, changing only
in the slant of shadows from the trees. Let the trees grow tall. A Wordsworthian reverence for nature coupled with a Dickinsonian sense of solitude in this verse.

Let me never desire more than a clean bathtub and hot water to fill it.
Let me forget the long lament of loneliness.
Let love keep its distance. Excellent use of the refrain. It was a wise choice to hold it back for a while then let it finish the poem.

The poem feels a lot like a prayer (obviously) by a devout Catholic struggling with lustful thoughts. Only from the title do we get a sense of atheism. I mean that not as a criticism, just an observation. The images are wonderfully sharp and precise, elevating this above a lot of "list" poems (my term for those which revolve around a single premise and express it as a list of images or ideas). Thank you for the read

[trophos]

Thanks so much for your thoughtful feedback! I particularly enjoyed your notes on when it feels religious to you (like in 3rd stanza) - I hadn't even considered that, but I'm delighted you picked it out - that means the poem works on levels I didn't even know about. I guess my thinking was that the absence, almost erasure, of any kind of higher organizing cognizant principle - i.e. god - in the poem would carry out the explicit atheism of the title - apparently not, or at least not necessarily!

I agree with you on the cliche opening of stanza 2 - I'll play around with improving that.

(Hm, now I'm thinking I could do as you suggest and start with L3, but keeping current L3 there as an echo: 'I will walk in parks… / but let love keep its distance. / I will walk…' That's a lot of repetition - especially with the repeated line-initial 'I will walk' - but this poem might have enough repetition already built into it to sustain that.)

'is it more of an atheistic fear of how wounding and possessive romantic love can be?' Hammer, meet head of nail I wrote this in a period following the break-up of a fairly serious relationship when the idea of making a relationship work just seemed exhausting and futile.

cheers

[brokenprism]

Hi. I'm super new, so I don't know if I'm allowed to comment, or if so, how, but I have read a lot of poetry -- I love it, or I wouldn't be here -- so I have some responses to your work, if that's OK. I'll check back to find out.

My first impulse is I like it much better without stanzas. It deserves to be visually dense because the experience you're romanticizing (the Ordinary) is dense with detail, as is your poem.

[trophos]

Hi. I'm super new, so I don't know if I'm allowed to comment, or if so, how, but I have read a lot of poetry -- I love it, or I wouldn't be here -- so I have some responses to your work, if that's OK. I'll check back to find out.

My first impulse is I like it much better without stanzas. It deserves to be visually dense because the experience you're romanticizing (the Ordinary) is dense with detail, as is your poem.

I'm new as well, but my impression is that you're *encouraged* to comment. I'd love to hear your feedback. Thanks!

[brokenprism]

OK, newb, here goes.

I like the idea a lot. I have a ... visceral antipathy to some words; always have. Like 'laundry' and 'spectacular.' Your poem ebbs and flows into and out of a variety of moods, and just when I'm starting to flow with your thought, a word will intrude and jerk me up short. (A pebble in a horse's hoof will throw a general.) A word can be as critical as a line. I'd almost rather see 'linen' than 'laundry' even though not many use linen anymore. I'd rather use a 'wrong' word the reader will pass by than the 'right' one that will stop him.

"Not for me the sea-tangled curls of Ariadne" is a jarring grammatical structure that rushes in from another century just when I was in the present moment with your writing. I'd suggest making it all this color, or change the structure.

Finally, as my elderly parents said recently, "Write shorter emails." This says more about their interpersonal sensibilities than it does about the fact that they're retired and have nowhere to be that MY emails are keeping them from, but think about length. I said to my daughter this summer as she waded in Trillium Lake, speaking carelessly out loud to her friend nearby while parents sat quietly on the shore, "Since water carries sound, if you're going to verbalize every thought that comes into your head, you have a duty to make them interesting." Shore-based applause followed. Can you say what you mean with less? Is there any fat to trim here...? Asking, not saying.

I love this:

"I will wander in the wide palm of some unnamed lake,
fishing with neither bait nor hook. Let there be a light wind."

Then I read 'spectacular...' : )

A chair in which you're rocking is probably a rocking chair -- no need to call it one and use the word twice.

"and in winter watch the snow cover all sign
of my most mild efforts." Efforts at what...? Winter is harsh; whay are your efforts mild? Gardening efforts...?

You are certainly free to ignore all this. It takes a lot of courage to offer up your work -- your Isaac -- and I am not Everyman, so my opinions are... necessarily narrowed by my experience. Keep writing.