Reviewing another Poet's work, suddenly I remembered that old church...and included few words about it in my review
I wish to share with all of you that day
I was tired, not afraid,
after a bloody battle,
when I was lost
in a countryside
of ruins surrounding
a baddly beaten church,
where I went
looking for a moment
of comfort and peace.
The wooden pews and benches
smelled of musty decay
after many rains
coming throug the ceiling holes
made with pupose
by some artillery rounds,
which didn't spare
woman, sick, a child
or the House of God.
All was covered with
masonry's dust and decay,
not even Him on the cross
was spared by Man,
on one hip I could see
deep embedded
of shrapnel a piece of metal,
flown in the last days
of nineteen forty five.
I will remember that church
for as long as I live,
when I wasn't afraid...
just tired.
George, this poem is filled with images which I think is still hard for you to describe because of the hurt you felt for the taking of lives and the destruction of Jesus on the cross. Your voice echoes the evil doings you felt on that day and a continual reminder lingers every day. This is a great piece of writing...one that I shall remember for a long time.
Reviewed by LadyJtalks LadyJzTalkZone (Reader)
Reviewed on April 11, 2007
No one is spared in war zones. A beautiful write yet a hard memory to see. Lady J
very intiguing perceptions you recaptured here Georg...I can't imagine being in the midst of a battle, but have seen the aftermath of the churches in Yugoslavia back in 1996. We're talking 12 century art...destroyed by bullets of a 21st century...sad.
I proceeded to take pictures of the art that was painted on the walls, bullet holes and all, scanned them into my Adobe program to match and patch the work back to its original form...wiping out the effects of a war!
I have been too tired at times...too tired to even feel, I can relate with your write in that sense, but for different reasons
A excellent write Georg~
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
You carry us back to that broken shell of a church with powerfully imaged verse; one doesn't just read your words, they see, smell, and touch them...well done, indeed.
"...not even Him on the cross
was spared by man,
on one hip I could see
deep imbedded
of shrapnel, a piece of metal,
flown in the last days
of nineteen forty five..."
Even houses of worship not safe. Heartbreaking lines.
I will remember that church
for as long as I live,
You depict the horrors of war extremely well, my friend, and as you point out, mankind usually spares nothing in his penchant for warfare, even houses of worship.
An other outstanding write
Thank you Georg for the imagery and even the scent
of a moment in the past
I too sometimes can still smell that unique scent of what a old residential structure smelled like, when neglected,
in those days they used to leave furniture behind. we were kids, not knowing any better, we used to enter old half demolished building sites, to look for what we used to call tresures, or to nestle as if it was a club house.
Peace be with you
1945...world war two...yip my daddy told us so much about that war...and each time I read something reminding me of those horrifying years tears just fill my eyes!! I miss my father so very much!!
Thanks for sharing...I could actually smell this musty odor!!
George, this is very good -- I'm glad you found some solace, even though the church was nearly destroyed. War is hell, no matter whether it was then, now, or God forbid sometime down the road. An excellent write, my friend.
Love,
CJ
This book consists of a 150 pages of Christian poetry about the end of time and the Second coming of Jesus Christ not as a servant but as a King, the King of kings. To bring righteousness and peace to the earth and restore the government of God! Peac
In "A Touch of Your Presence" are words that would inspire, encourage and strengthen one's soul when faced with challenges and difficulties and to know the awesomeness of God's power.
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Aberjhani
"The Musty Odor of Faith" flows from the stream of experience to the lake of reminiscence that keeps live the memory of a history of a great observer.
I salute You, Poet.
In admiration,
Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU
Be safe,
Karen
Reindeer
I proceeded to take pictures of the art that was painted on the walls, bullet holes and all, scanned them into my Adobe program to match and patch the work back to its original form...wiping out the effects of a war!
I have been too tired at times...too tired to even feel, I can relate with your write in that sense, but for different reasons
A excellent write Georg~
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
You carry us back to that broken shell of a church with powerfully imaged verse; one doesn't just read your words, they see, smell, and touch them...well done, indeed.
"...not even Him on the cross
was spared by man,
on one hip I could see
deep imbedded
of shrapnel, a piece of metal,
flown in the last days
of nineteen forty five..."
Even houses of worship not safe. Heartbreaking lines.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. :(
for as long as I live,
You depict the horrors of war extremely well, my friend, and as you point out, mankind usually spares nothing in his penchant for warfare, even houses of worship.
An other outstanding write
Thank you Georg for the imagery and even the scent
of a moment in the past
I too sometimes can still smell that unique scent of what a old residential structure smelled like, when neglected,
in those days they used to leave furniture behind. we were kids, not knowing any better, we used to enter old half demolished building sites, to look for what we used to call tresures, or to nestle as if it was a club house.
Peace be with you
William
Thanks for sharing...I could actually smell this musty odor!!
Love Tinka
Love,
CJ