The Consolations of Writing

Hope

Impossibly

darting

amidst the cars,

an aquamarine

balloon dances

on Cemetery Road,

waltzing over

lanes and under

wheels, through traffic,

soaring up

and dropping down,

beneath these engines,

over bonnets;

indomitable,

it flies,

resting on

the traffic isle,

then gaining strength

to fly once more

across the one

remaining lane,

eager wheels

charging on,

balloon remaining,

through it all,

unbroken and

airborne,

withstanding the

fumes and the

traffic’s swift pulse

reaching, at last,

the other side

of autumn trees

and age-worn fence

to soar once more

atop the tombs

of the Melbourne

General Cemetery.

George Herbert – The Broken Altar

As April comes to an end, my time spent with the poetry of George Herbert also comes to its conclusion. Here is the essay that I have written, reflecting on Herbert’s work and his influence on me. I hope you enjoy reading it.

The Broken Altar

Quatrain (V)

And so it seems to me that I

Might rest now underneath Your sky,

Sunset like redeeming blood,

The rainbow-aftermath of flood.

He that made the ear (After George Herbert’s “Longing”)

My last George Herbert-inspired poem is a bit different to the other three. This time I have decided to use just two lines from his poem, “Longing”, as the stimulus for my own poem:

Lord heare! Shall he that made the ear

Not heare?

It seemed a great place to start. The original poem is quite long so I won’t include it in this post. But you can read it here if you are interested. My poem is written in the form of a villanelle, which is a traditional French form that involves the cycling repetition of two refrains. I hope you enjoy it!

He that made the ear (After George Herbert’s “Longing”)

My heart lies at Your feet in fear.

My vision trembles and thoughts cry:

Shall He that made the ear not hear?

I wait through all the waiting year,

Bringing You my waning sigh;

My heart lies at Your feet in fear

And yet this quiet hope hangs near,

A question with no firm reply:

Shall He that made the ear not hear?

I watch, in hope You will appear;

Lord, hear! I cry. My words aim high –

My heart lies at Your feet in fear.

Clouds laugh at me and vacuums jeer;

But there is time still to defy.

Shall He that made the ear not hear?

The heavens sit, a blank frontier,

Yet nothing hides there from Your eye.

My heart lies at Your feet in fear…

Shall He that made the ear not hear?

Quatrain (IV)

More generous than all my dreams could make You,

You overflow when I am most dry.

When my heart proves me false, You prove most true,

My failure the question, Your love the reply.

Quatrain (III)

Without ground beneath feet I am stumbling,

Without bearings I’m caught out of place.

But to You in this vacuum and rumbling

I can turn, for You shape the dark space.

Obsession (After George Herbert’s “Affliction (IV)”)

The fact that George Herbert wrote a number of poems of called “Affliction” tells us something about the nature of his life and the hardships, many of them internal, that he endured. Today’s poem is based on his fourth “Affliction” poem, a poem that resonates strongly with me despite the four hundred years that have passed since it was written.

Obsession (After “Affliction (IV)”)

Torn beyond my recognition,

Lord, here I wait

At Your tall gate,

Too small to hope or beg permission,

Too weakened by the distance, height

Which seems to cut You from my sight.

I do not dare to dream or fear.

Just this I know:

Go where I go,

These nagging, dragging thoughts are near,

Accusing me in my own voice;

Even silence threatens noise.

My prayers echo inside my mind.

I cling to them;

Your garment’s hem

Is hard and harder now to find,

And though my praying does not cease,

It has no knowledge of Your peace.

Oh God, if You can’t calm these waves,

They will swamp me

In turgid sea

While my obsession raves and raves.

If You are life, then break through cloud

And still the thunder, ranting loud –

Then I may rest within Your arms

Which lift me high,

Your love’s reply

To every gate which locks and bars,

And all my battles shall be won

And I shall dwell in Your Well done.

Affliction (IV) – George Herbert

Broken in pieces all asunder,

Lord, hunt me not,

A thing forgot,

Once a poore creature, now a wonder,

A wonder tortur’d in the space

Betwixt this world and that of grace.

My thoughts are all a case of knives,

Wounding my heart

With scatter’d smart,

As watring pots give flowers their lives.

Nothing their furie can controll,

While they do wound and prick my soul.

All my attendants are at strife,

Quitting their place

Unto my face:

Nothing performs the task of life:

The elements are let loose to fight,

And while I live, trie out their right.

Oh help, my God! let not their plot

Kill them and me,

And also thee,

Who art my life: dissolve the knot,

As the sunne scatters by his light

All the rebellions of the night.

Then shall those powers, which work for grief,

Enter thy pay,

And day by day

Labour thy praise, and my relief;

With care and courage building me,

Till I reach heav’n, and much more, thee.

Quatrain (II)

I fell at your feet with the burden I carried

Dragging my shoulders and soul to the ground.

“The burden is mine, child,” you said while I tarried,

Unable to rise and afraid to lay down.

Quatrain

From a day of wandering and buzzing,

My thoughts tangled up in their thrall,

With vines of coiled hopes faintly budding –

Dear God, straighten me; be my all.

Ex-Nihilo

If it is true,

then what I see as debris, dross,

may be somehow rearranged in You,

an altar where Your praises sing

and shine, though made of ash.

For no-one but You has eyes to see

the insides of the dark yet change

its composites and make it bright.

Only You who spoke the Word

can see the light explode.

If it is true

that you made the light ex-nihilo

and formed the domes, contained the seas

and turned the third day into dawn,

then I may be remade

though bloody red, dusty from the fight

and screaming into dark and soot,

and anti-matter in my mind;

You, it’s true, repair the black holes

in our souls and let in life.