Amen

[tectak]

V. 2 adjusted L2 and L3
adjusted last 3 lines slightly

Tonight, the doorway frames a still of you, asleep
in silence waiting to be snapped by footsteps.
I want to hear of a table splayed with sweet potato,
graces pressed through joined hands, a chorus of Amen.
I missed that word, flying over Appalachia;
the last strum of a collapsing arpeggio
before a meal. Amen is something to be shared,
regardless of belief, like small talk, fish, or bread.
When absent, its weight hangs in the air,
a spent chandelier burned by the switch.
Once the first roll is sliced, the plates fill
and glasses empty, it feels too late
to claim, like an apology, or
even worse, regret.



V. 1
Tonight, the doorway frames a still of you, asleep,
unaware of my weight uncoiled at your side.
In the silence of what will blur into memory,
I want to hear of a table splayed with sweet potato,
graces pressed through joined hands, a chorus of Amen.
I missed that word, flying over Appalachia;
the last strum of a collapsing arpeggio
before a meal. Amen is something to be shared,
regardless of belief, like small talk, fish, or bread.
When absent, its weight hangs in the air,
a spent chandelier burned by the switch;
when the first roll is sliced, the plates fill
and glasses empty, it feels too late
to claim, like an apology, or
even worse, regret.

Hi phil,
It would be churlish to pick away at this beautiful piece...like photoshopping a Constable!
I can still see phil in the content but not in the construction. This is a departure from your normal "style" and amen to that. I like it very much.
To me, there are only issues between what you can "see"in your head and what you submit to the page. As usual, the impression of profundity is there but sometimes the translation into poetic visualisation seems to be unsophisticated, as if the translator had a limited vocabulary to work with. Please take this the right way. What it means is that your ideas seem to overwhelm your ability to pin down the words. Given the choice I would prefer ideas over words but this is poetry!
In the first few lines you create an image which is complete and easily assimilated by the reader. I am contented by this and have a good feeling.....I am confident that this is my kind of poem......but then you seem to hurry and stick in a quick fix that just leaves me stuck to the words. "....waiting to be snapped by footsteps" is shifting the concept just too suddenly. "Framed," a "still" and "snapped" cannot be misconstrued. They are terms used in photography......Kodak Brownie, even....but where do you get the expression "snapped by footsteps" from? Unless Footsteps is the butler, I am cast adrift.....if mixed metaphors is where we are at!
The rest is pure philatone with wickedly off-centre descriptive leaps ( splayed with sweet potato) and great transitional leaps of sentiment from the flight over the Appalachians to the unpicked arpeggio to the slicing of a (bread?) roll in one (thanks erthona) Ginsbergian breath. (If reading out loud, of course. The punctuation is refreshingly present!)
I sometimes ask a friend or two to read my stuff out loud. I choose those who despise poetic endeavour and promise each time that this one will change their mind. It never does, but they are brutal in their infuriatingly simplistic criticism of even the tiniest inclusion of poetic licence. I note their comments and sometimes I even act on them.........as you should here. Or not.
The chandelier and switch bit is still up there with A Whiter shade of Pale but not quite into Blinded by the Light!
Work that out you clever bastard!
Loved it,
Best,
Tectak

PS. A better title would be AMEN! IMO