Sunday Psalm https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/t2395 Runboard| Sunday Psalm en-us Thu, 28 Mar 2024 22:45:22 +0000 Thu, 28 Mar 2024 22:45:22 +0000 https://www.runboard.com/ rssfeeds_managingeditor@runboard.com (Runboard.com RSS feeds managing editor) rssfeeds_webmaster@runboard.com (Runboard.com RSS feeds webmaster) akBBS 60 Re: Sunday Psalmhttps://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p16920,from=rss#post16920https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p16920,from=rss#post16920Terr has a good assessment. Rule one: don't mention yourself unless its self deprecating. nondisclosed_email@example.com (JRPearspn)Mon, 12 May 2014 17:52:51 +0000 Re: Sunday Psalmhttps://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p16908,from=rss#post16908https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p16908,from=rss#post16908Libra, I've long since left off critting your poetry. Prosodically you can be sloppy. Poetically you tend to bring the bacon home and pierce me. Pierce me bad, actually. This poem has so many prosodic problems, too many line shifts in syntax, metrics, and logic. I think I know you don't get that, and that the problem doen't matter to you. But I got to say you would be a much more powerful poet if you paid attention to the close, prosodic stuff. You have so much to say. Terenondisclosed_email@example.com (Terreson)Tue, 06 May 2014 21:21:20 +0000 Sunday Psalmhttps://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p16869,from=rss#post16869https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p16869,from=rss#post16869Sunday Psalm     Am I meant to be a sacrificial lamb as the Universe goes about its merry way? Is this why we pray?   If it's only me -- the great and wise I AM engaging in some self-negating play, what the hey? Life is whatever you make it. So go out there and take it. Never, ever fake it and you'll be ok. Or so they say...   Just a philosopher-poet, suffered to ply my trade. Brilliant skies hover nigh; but, below, fading sight denies acclaim.   Somnolent glide, sinuous, silvery stair. Burnt eyes still, closed to the world. What glimpse might I witness if only I dare? Is there purpose to wandering Earth? Should I care? But what if I'm missing the thrill? What would carry me there?   Over the boundaries; into the wild. Not a safe task to commit to a child. A quest full of questions. A fool's 'oliday. And, have I mentioned, no promise of pay. Just a born again supplicant reshaping the code, creating the tale I'll tell when I'm old.   "Jesus wept and died" I always wondered what that meant. An admonition to us to do the same? Like, "Life sucks, and then you end"? Or, if Jesus died for our sins, did he first weep for our souls -- a holy pity party enfolding us all? So, our sins have been wept for, died for; we carry the blood of the Lamb, like disease. Perhaps His sacrifice would be better released as happy laughter; hugged forgiving; genuine indulgence in feast of experience, balance to weeping and dying. For revelry balances grief; ecstasy balances defeat; and love, of course, is the only balance to love.   Spitting on divine art. Anger overtaking heart. Ripping the world wheel apart, invested in childish rage. "Am I good now, Daddy?" Purging my animal nature. Ripping out the devils under every bed. I tell them, I tell them what you said about Fires of Hell awaiting devotion to unsanctified ways. Daddy, will you love me, keep me safe? My life, all lives, for You! I humbly sacrifice all life to You. 'Cause you're my Man, my Holy Truth and Power. Elevate my cause; it is your own.nondisclosed_email@example.com (libramoon)Sun, 13 Apr 2014 14:50:12 +0000