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I Must Have Drank Too Much Ambrosial Wine
I must have drank too much ambrosial wine
and fallen fast asleep, I must have dreamed:
I walked among the clouds, God at my side
an angel led with a lantern like a star
and all the world was dark beneath my feet.
Heaven was cold and void, an empty chapel
that carried our footsteps through its
vacant corridors, our voices echoed like
the thousand ghosts that came for mass.
The organ played itself, the windows smoked
with incense as prayers rise from purgatory.
It was a requiem for my soul, God said.
I heard the music rise serpentine
from the depths of silence
and tickle the tongues of all the bells,
the brass sang with the voices of angels,
the stained glass choirs themselves rejoiced
as all the world that slept beneath my feet
ere this drear night was over leapt awake
with ejaculations, in a language I do not understand.
The lamp beside my bed was bright as day,
God enthroned was captured in a little, wooden frame,
the window was open, the wind was grieving
when morning came.
Comments
judyanne
Fri, 2015-04-03 06:56
a captivating write William
great descriptive, your muses are obviously back... :)
one tiny thing
prayers rise from purgatory - unless I've read it wrong, i think you need ' rose' to keep the tense
and I love the ending
love judy
xxx
'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)
mand
Sat, 2015-04-04 02:44
HI William
Very descriptive and effective use of language and imagery! Glad to see you're muse is back up and flowing. :)
Love to you
Mand xxxxx
Geezer
Fri, 2015-04-03 11:07
Very descriptive...
I think maybe it was just enough wine, not too much!
Your title; while a little lengthy, was quite apt. The description of a dream was evident from the first and it seemed quite well hung together. ~ Gee
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Dalton
Fri, 2015-04-03 15:44
I see Sir William you are standing with Enoch tonight
I must applaud this write. Its witty and yet picturesque. Has moments of pith and pun. And yet that must be yanked back because, I feel, its so well written. And of course the subject matter pleases me. I'm just pissed I didn't write it myself. I think I like the middle verse mostly, but you should be proud of the opening lines, integral so as not to put the reader off. The scene in the last verse "God in a wooden box" as far as the subject goes I'm sure He has a sense of humour. As long as its meant well, I feel in part to cheer men's souls, theres no sin in it. Doesn't really matter what I think about that. Fine write. Keep them coming
John
wesley snow
Fri, 2015-04-03 19:02
The hell with the poem
welcome back... I mean really back, writing and posting. The poem is superb by the way.
W. H. Snow
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley
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William Saint George
Fri, 2015-04-03 21:54
Thanks Wes.
Thanks Wes.
It certainly feels good to write again.
No verse is free for the man who wants to do a good job. - TS Eliot
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