Last night as I rest in my sleep
Through a dream I felt sand beneath my feet
In the distance stands a great throne made of ancient oak
Seated is a grey haired old Man
His feature where strong but his face was drawn
In serious thought of what I know not yet
Slowly I approach kneeling to rest
Beneath a look from eyes that where old but wise
He greets me with a mournful smile
In cloth he is draped of the finest design
In hope I wait to hear his mind speak words I feel
Of troublesome time.
“This land” he says in a growl tone that rise the spirit of my soul
“Was once own by one who cared who loved who cherish it all,
then from his life there born children equal in their race
and this land where he once roam became home for his own human race,
but as their time roll on grown up divided they became
refusing to share spoiled to the core delusion as they greed for more,
for the one who give had long since gone for he could no longer call,
the land where he once roam his home,
As their decades pass and centuries they became
his people mourn in hope that he would some day return
but in their human greed they fail to see
that this is now their home all the land and seas,
Then soon their greed turn to hate for all living things
even their neighbours even their friends
and the one who give just sits and waits
as in disgust he watch his own human race,
Destruction and carnage became their daily routine
and his people versus people how their blood runs free
and as for their children how he grieve for these
for they are been taught by what they hear and see,
and soon, they shall inherit what they will receive”
The grey haired old Man in his throne he sinks as his eyes stares he pause to think
His face I study how powerful he seem and then suddenly again he speaks
“In a world of plenty they had it all yet he still hears their sadden calls
finally he decide they do deserve one more chance to see that he cares,
so answering their call is the one he choose
with his gift of life their saviour he becomes
but in a world divide he dearly tries to teach their mind the fate of life,
but only those who seek his words they greet as many more where undecide
and for some, their evil reach new high”
The grey haired old Man his face crease in a harsh tone I hear these words he speaks
“They spit they stone they mocked his name
even those who believe just hung their heads in shame
and for many the proved was in his deeds but still they refuse to believe,
on trial he stands like a common thief convicted even before his judges meets
They tease him whip him call him a king a king of people covered in sin,
Then on his head they place a crown to show their appreciation a crown of thorns,
a cross they carve was their ultimate treat
and many watch as he drag it along the streets,
finally on their cross they lay him down “crucify” was his judges call,
so they hung him by nails through his hands and feet like an animal and still they mourn.
Their saviour he sent to answer their call
but in horror he watch waiting for word that would put this human race to a end,
words that this brave Man, refuse to send”
The grey haired old Man bowed his head to my feet I rise and his hands I felt
With looks of sorrow he rise his head in gentle tone these words he said
“From their cross hung his flesh like a piece of meat
without life his soul in thy kingdom we greet
with open arms I comfort him for their saviour, is my son.
I give them life this human race yet they betray their only fate
now again I grieve but not for them but for my son,
who wish to return to a world which is dying,
from their own Human waste”
As I rest in my sleep to a new dawn I wake in a world that I love to begin a new day
Sad thoughts of a dream which happen long ago
My hopes for a future when our troubles will be no more
But my feeling are for one whose human race betrayed
But that was in the past I hear many say
Yes our lives has improved greatly since then
But I do wish in hope that his son shall remain
in his Father kingdom where he shall be safe,
Why - Look around - we are still the same HUMAN RACE
Or are we --- Fact or Fiction.
(10-10-2016, 03:14 AM)Reflection Wrote: CONSCIENCE OF GUILT
Last night as I rest in my sleep
Through a dream I felt sand beneath my feet
In the distance stands a great throne made of ancient oak
Seated is a grey hair old Man
His feature where strong but his face was drawn
...
But I do wish in hope that his son shall remain
in his Father kingdom where he shall be safe,
Why - Look around - we are still the same HUMAN RACE
Or are we --- Fact or Fiction.
------------------------------------
Welcome to critique (as subject rather than critic).
Your story is clear, and has an interesting twist: sympathy for the Christ and his likely willingness to do the whole thing over despite the Father's plan. Adducing disagreement within the Trinity is probalby some form of heresy, but a pretty mild one these days. Taking a familiar plot in an unexpected direction shows inspiration.
Framing the story as a dream steps back a pace; perhaps that's a good idea, perhaps unnecessary. It does help justify use of common symbols since the frame is from your subconscious.
Writing in the present tense, with some apparent grammatic errors ("grey hair old Man" instead of "grey haired" for example) emphasizes that this is a dream, constructing itself on the fly: the viewpoint sees the grey hair first, then the old Man in full. The same could be said for inversions ("their savior he becomes") which are somewhat frowned upon these days, but the sequence can be explained by the dream's stream of images and objects.
In a few places this seems to go a bit far - for example, "a animal" when most written and spoken English calls for "an." I would gently suggest running through the poem and editing phrases like this that will distract most readers because they look so erroneous.
You make some very fine points - for example, always capitalizing the old Man but not the son or his attributes ("savior"), which carries through your (technically heretical) theme where the son is less than the Father. The [S]on unwilling to bring on the Apocalypse is a particularly intriguing idea; so is the viewpoint hoping the son will remain in heaven for his own safety.
You have some good internal rhymes and, especially, alliteration. I would, very lightly, suggest an edit following standard grammar and conversational word order without inversions, particularly when the old Man is speaking. Try using those, plus past tense for most of the action, and see how you like it. It's a long work and you put a lot of thought into it.
You've put forth many interesting aspects. Religious context is safe in a dream because dreams are interpreted. If you think Jesus character is safe in heaven here I think you're the Jesus in your dream. So ending on fact or fiction I think spoils the rest. And more, the bulk of the story is being told through a nameless man, and youre the narrator, automatically including me, and that's how you got me to keep reading, because sentence structures need some concentrated effort. Dreams are really difficult to share, tending towards exhausting symbolism, but I think you're on a good track. Thanks for sharing!
Great to read your thoughts on this, I wrote this a good few years back and first time getting feedback on it.
Starting of with the dream was more going with the flow of thoughts and getting me to the next part, the old man and letting him talk giving him emotion and anger and reason the rest followed in similar ways, then waking up from the dream back into a world we all live in and know very well, i suppose this poetical tale if i can call it that is all about asking questions which i didn't but because of the poetry of words i let the main character "the old man" talk.
As for the last line "Fact or Fiction" again waking up from a dream but another reason is i often thought about what it must have been like thousands of years back for the writers of books like the old and new testament and how they must of had to spend many times in deep thought laying out what they and others believe to be fact, using best our imagination in words is a wonderful gift a writer has and those writers obviously believe their imagination and probably dreams as well was more fact than the limited knowledge of their real world, planet universe that they live in at that time, but i do often wonder if they where writing those books today would they say it was fact, or fiction, sorry for going on i'm rambling now
I've edit those words Dukealien I didn't notice them until you point them out, but i always had a problem with editing this not really knowing if the commas are in the right place or should I use capital letters at the start of some or all the lines.
Nice edit, unfortunately I did not include a copy of the original state of the poem, so cannot comment accurately on the changes. It's possible to update the original post while retaining a copy or copies of previous edits there, hidden inside "pre verse" tags so they're not normally seen. I'll include a copy of the current edit at the end of this coment so you can see how that works - it's helpful to critics, though it does involve some extra work on your part.
At the risk of rewriting - considered a serious sin of critics in some quarters, here is what I mean by standard grammar and word order - your fifth stanza, and recast in past tense:
Quote:The grey haired old Man bowed his head to my feet I rise and his hands I felt
With looks of sorrow he rise his head in gentle tone these words he said
“From their cross hung his flesh like a piece of meat
without life his soul in thy kingdom we greet
with open arms I comfort him for their saviour, is my son.
I give them life this human race yet they betray their only fate
now again I grieve but not for them but for my son,
who wish to return to a world which is dying,
from their own Human waste”
The grey haired old Man bowed his head; to my feet I rose and felt his hands
With looks of sorrow he raised his head; in gentle tone these words he said
“From their cross hung his flesh like a piece of meat
without life his soul in my kingdom we greeted
with open arms I comforted him for their saviour [no comma] is my son.
I gave them life this human race yet they betrayed their only fate
now again I grieve but not for them but for my son,
who wishes to return to a world which is dying[no comma]
from their own Human waste”
This is only an example, lacks the immediacy of your poetry, and is certainly not the only way to do it. In particular, it loses the meat/greet rhyme. And anyway, dreams are inconsistent. This is just to explain what I mean by consistent grammar and verb tense, and I apologize again for the rewrite.
CONSCIENCE OF GUILT
Last night as I rest in my sleep
Through a dream I felt sand beneath my feet
In the distance stands a great throne made of ancient oak
Seated is a grey haired old Man
His feature where strong but his face was drawn
In serious thought of what I know not yet
Slowly I approach kneeling to rest
Beneath a look from eyes that where old but wise
He greets me with a mournful smile
In cloth he is draped of the finest design
In hope I wait to hear his mind speak words I feel
Of troublesome time.
“This land” he says in a growl tone that rise the spirit of my soul
“Was once own by one who cared who loved who cherish it all,
then from his life there born children equal in their race
and this land where he once roam became home for his own human race,
but as their time roll on grown up divided they became
refusing to share spoiled to the core delusion as they greed for more,
for the one who give had long since gone for he could no longer call,
the land where he once roam his home,
As their decades pass and centuries they became
his people mourn in hope that he would some day return
but in their human greed they fail to see
that this is now their home all the land and seas,
Then soon their greed turn to hate for all living things
even their neighbours even their friends
and the one who give just sits and waits
as in disgust he watch his own human race,
Destruction and carnage became their daily routine
and his people versus people how their blood runs free
and as for their children how he grieve for these
for they are been taught by what they hear and see,
and soon, they shall inherit what they will receive”
The grey haired old Man in his throne he sinks as his eyes stares he pause to think
His face I study how powerful he seem and then suddenly again he speaks
“In a world of plenty they had it all yet he still hears their sadden calls
finally he decide they do deserve one more chance to see that he cares,
so answering their call is the one he choose
with his gift of life their saviour he becomes
but in a world divide he dearly tries to teach their mind the fate of life,
but only those who seek his words they greet as many more where undecide
and for some, their evil reach new high”
The grey haired old Man his face crease in a harsh tone I hear these words he speaks
“They spit they stone they mocked his name
even those who believe just hung their heads in shame
and for many the proved was in his deeds but still they refuse to believe,
on trial he stands like a common thief convicted even before his judges meets
They tease him whip him call him a king a king of people covered in sin,
Then on his head they place a crown to show their appreciation a crown of thorns,
a cross they carve was their ultimate treat
and many watch as he drag it along the streets,
finally on their cross they lay him down “crucify” was his judges call,
so they hung him by nails through his hands and feet like an animal and still they mourn.
Their saviour he sent to answer their call
but in horror he watch waiting for word that would put this human race to a end,
words that this brave Man, refuse to send”
The grey haired old Man bowed his head to my feet I rise and his hands I felt
With looks of sorrow he rise his head in gentle tone these words he said
“From their cross hung his flesh like a piece of meat
without life his soul in thy kingdom we greet
with open arms I comfort him for their saviour, is my son.
I give them life this human race yet they betray their only fate
now again I grieve but not for them but for my son,
who wish to return to a world which is dying,
from their own Human waste”
As I rest in my sleep to a new dawn I wake in a world that I love to begin a new day
Sad thoughts of a dream which happen long ago
My hopes for a future when our troubles will be no more
But my feeling are for one whose human race betrayed
But that was in the past I hear many say
Yes our lives has improved greatly since then
But I do wish in hope that his son shall remain
in his Father kingdom where he shall be safe,
Why - Look around - we are still the same HUMAN RACE
Or are we --- Fact or Fiction.
(10-17-2016, 05:58 AM)dukealien Wrote: Nice edit, unfortunately I did not include a copy of the original state of the poem, so cannot comment accurately on the changes. It's possible to update the original post while retaining a copy or copies of previous edits there, hidden inside "pre verse" tags so they're not normally seen. I'll include a copy of the current edit at the end of this coment so you can see how that works - it's helpful to critics, though it does involve some extra work on your part.
At the risk of rewriting - considered a serious sin of critics in some quarters, here is what I mean by standard grammar and word order - your fifth stanza, and recast in past tense:
Quote:The grey haired old Man bowed his head to my feet I rise and his hands I felt
With looks of sorrow he rise his head in gentle tone these words he said
“From their cross hung his flesh like a piece of meat
without life his soul in thy kingdom we greet
with open arms I comfort him for their saviour, is my son.
I give them life this human race yet they betray their only fate
now again I grieve but not for them but for my son,
who wish to return to a world which is dying,
from their own Human waste”
The grey haired old Man bowed his head; to my feet I rose and felt his hands
With looks of sorrow he raised his head; in gentle tone these words he said
“From their cross hung his flesh like a piece of meat
without life his soul in my kingdom we greeted
with open arms I comforted him for their saviour [no comma] is my son.
I gave them life this human race yet they betrayed their only fate
now again I grieve but not for them but for my son,
who wishes to return to a world which is dying[no comma]
from their own Human waste”
This is only an example, lacks the immediacy of your poetry, and is certainly not the only way to do it. In particular, it loses the meat/greet rhyme. And anyway, dreams are inconsistent. This is just to explain what I mean by consistent grammar and verb tense, and I apologize again for the rewrite.
CONSCIENCE OF GUILT
Last night as I rest in my sleep
Through a dream I felt sand beneath my feet
In the distance stands a great throne made of ancient oak
Seated is a grey haired old Man
His feature where strong but his face was drawn
In serious thought of what I know not yet
Slowly I approach kneeling to rest
Beneath a look from eyes that where old but wise
He greets me with a mournful smile
In cloth he is draped of the finest design
In hope I wait to hear his mind speak words I feel
Of troublesome time.
“This land” he says in a growl tone that rise the spirit of my soul
“Was once own by one who cared who loved who cherish it all,
then from his life there born children equal in their race
and this land where he once roam became home for his own human race,
but as their time roll on grown up divided they became
refusing to share spoiled to the core delusion as they greed for more,
for the one who give had long since gone for he could no longer call,
the land where he once roam his home,
As their decades pass and centuries they became
his people mourn in hope that he would some day return
but in their human greed they fail to see
that this is now their home all the land and seas,
Then soon their greed turn to hate for all living things
even their neighbours even their friends
and the one who give just sits and waits
as in disgust he watch his own human race,
Destruction and carnage became their daily routine
and his people versus people how their blood runs free
and as for their children how he grieve for these
for they are been taught by what they hear and see,
and soon, they shall inherit what they will receive”
The grey haired old Man in his throne he sinks as his eyes stares he pause to think
His face I study how powerful he seem and then suddenly again he speaks
“In a world of plenty they had it all yet he still hears their sadden calls
finally he decide they do deserve one more chance to see that he cares,
so answering their call is the one he choose
with his gift of life their saviour he becomes
but in a world divide he dearly tries to teach their mind the fate of life,
but only those who seek his words they greet as many more where undecide
and for some, their evil reach new high”
The grey haired old Man his face crease in a harsh tone I hear these words he speaks
“They spit they stone they mocked his name
even those who believe just hung their heads in shame
and for many the proved was in his deeds but still they refuse to believe,
on trial he stands like a common thief convicted even before his judges meets
They tease him whip him call him a king a king of people covered in sin,
Then on his head they place a crown to show their appreciation a crown of thorns,
a cross they carve was their ultimate treat
and many watch as he drag it along the streets,
finally on their cross they lay him down “crucify” was his judges call,
so they hung him by nails through his hands and feet like an animal and still they mourn.
Their saviour he sent to answer their call
but in horror he watch waiting for word that would put this human race to a end,
words that this brave Man, refuse to send”
The grey haired old Man bowed his head to my feet I rise and his hands I felt
With looks of sorrow he rise his head in gentle tone these words he said
“From their cross hung his flesh like a piece of meat
without life his soul in thy kingdom we greet
with open arms I comfort him for their saviour, is my son.
I give them life this human race yet they betray their only fate
now again I grieve but not for them but for my son,
who wish to return to a world which is dying,
from their own Human waste”
As I rest in my sleep to a new dawn I wake in a world that I love to begin a new day
Sad thoughts of a dream which happen long ago
My hopes for a future when our troubles will be no more
But my feeling are for one whose human race betrayed
But that was in the past I hear many say
Yes our lives has improved greatly since then
But I do wish in hope that his son shall remain
in his Father kingdom where he shall be safe,
Why - Look around - we are still the same HUMAN RACE
Or are we --- Fact or Fiction.
------------------------------------
Thank you.
"The grey haired old Man bowed his head to my feet I rise and his hands I felt"
"The grey haired old Man bowed his head; to my feet I rose and felt his hands"
Rise is coming from this line.
“This land” he says in a growl tone that rise the spirit of my soul"
Rose is getting up where as rise is rising.
"his hands I felt" rhyme with "bowed his head" but "felt his hands" does not.
"my kingdom" but its not my kingdom its the old man " thy kingdom"
"we greeted" but its a personal greeting between father and son "we greet"
"with open arms I comforted him for their saviour [no comma] is my son"
There has to be a comma (moment of understanding) long lost reunion of father and son.
"who wishes to return to a world which is dying[no comma]"
Yes comma (another moment) wishes (wishes) sounds like begging, he wish to return, means its his own wish, he not asking for permission.
I always thought of this as a spoken word more so than a reading word.
