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    dots Submission Name: Trinity in Five Partsdots

    Author: saartha
    ASL Info:    27/F/US
    Elite Ratio:    4.03 - 230/390/136
    Words: 116
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 890
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 832


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsTrinity in Five Partsdots

    I can never remember
    if I have really been baptized.
    There are silvered dreams
    of a man holding me under,
    holding me under,
    forgetting his words.

    My mother searched
    for the right church
    instead of religion.
    It was a race with crosses
    as batons, and I
    dropped mine entirely.

    Like every four-year-old
    I drank my grapejuice
    before the blessing.

    One pastor was
    a bigot, one priest
    uninspired. One church
    had an ugly paint job.

    Father was a pagan
    who found God his own
    unspiritual way. I took all
    my best qualities from him,
    all my worst, too.

    Submitted on 2008-07-27 20:01:49     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!

    ||| Comments |||
      I think these are interesting, but also sort of sitting there waiting for you.

    they could be more condensed. #2 for example, it may or not relate to you, your situation, but i thought it might be more punchy if the narrator was dropped, dropped as in lost, and as you have it she sort of was, but i wanted that to be about the mother daughter relationship, maybe the daughter being back bleacher'd
    or something caustic, as that would give it a light shade deal.
    | Posted on 2010-02-12 00:00:00 | by Daniel Barlow | [ Reply to This ]
      I like this one too. Although the last stanza could have been better. Other than that it's a good poem.
    | Posted on 2008-11-21 00:00:00 | by Paradox | [ Reply to This ]
      Once again, you awe me. Reading your work always leaves me a little bit tongue-tied. (In a very, very good way.) I feel as if I've just seen something to big for words miraculously put into them. I'm sorry I can't be more helpful, especially considering all the help you've given me, only to say, please don't change anything about this poem.
    | Posted on 2008-10-16 00:00:00 | by liquid | [ Reply to This ]
      i have a few ramblings id like to send your way [and really... theyre only ramblings...]

    Like every four-year-old

    i know this catholic-baptist-methodist confusion.
    see... i go to a baptist church. my mother took me there when i was 3 and ive mostly been going there ever since. though after my mother left my father and i started staying with her every second weekend we would go to all sorts of different churches the weekends i was with her. so one weekend i would be baptist and the next i might be church of christ or presbytarian... who knows.

    its interestng though.
    coz when i read about your mother picking churches not religions all i can think of is my mother trying to find a hairdresser. i swear she put more effort into finding a hairdresser than she did into finding a church.
    and i remember being 7 and being at a hairdresser we'd never been to before and the nice lady said something to me and i said "oh dont worry... if you screw my mums hair up we wont be back here again..."

    Father was a pagan
    who found God his own
    unspiritual way. I took all
    my best qualities from him,
    and all my worst, too

    i love my dad. i adore him. he has nothing to do with god/church at all [and some days it seems that church/god is all i am] and as a result he is always telling me jokes that i think are sposed to be blasphemous but i almost die laughing at.
    once he told me the pub was his church and he was baptised in beer... [just so you can get a gauge as to where he is at haha]

    having said that my dad has tried to teach me a few things about god along the way... when i was 3 and a half he was teaching me about easter and so when a pastor at the combined easter service asked the kids why we celebrated easter i jumped up and grabbed the microphone and said "coz jesus died on the hot cross bun!"
    my mother was mortified.
    my father is still proud...

    these are my ramblings.
    i enjoyed your piece very much.

    | Posted on 2008-07-30 00:00:00 | by Someones Epiphany | [ Reply to This ]
      That witty title of yours really draws attention to the structure... the old unity of the trinity all fragmented and divided into too many different memories and denominations it can't fit you or you can't fit it...

    hmm I think there's also quite a contrast between the mother always trying to belong but never finding something that works, and the father going about it his own way. It's not too hard to extrapolate some kind of moral about how being an outsider has stronger positives (and stronger negatives) as a way of thinking/living/feeling/etc then attempting to always squeeze yourself into something else. And I don't mean "moral" in the preachy Aesop sense, more a conclusion that arises organically or something. And I'm not sure I really mean "organically"... meh I'm suffering from it being summer, please forgive my rambling. I think I may just crawl away someplace and melt...

    I liked the poem.
    | Posted on 2008-07-28 00:00:00 | by Icarus | [ Reply to This ]
      Hey Saartha,

    The title of this poem drew me to it; I thought that it was quite original There are some neat ideas here. I think that you could hold back a little on what it revealed and give a little less information. The style of the poem sort of supports that. There's a lot of flow and connection between verses and something maybe more tangential I think would work. I know that the subject changes in each verse but there's something there that feels too much. An example of this would be:

    'My mother searched
    for the right church
    instead of religion.'


    'Like every four-year-old

    and the 4th verse that mentions the qualities of different churches. I think the variety that the narrator experienced is slightly overstated and by saying less you could say more -- I know it sounds cliché but I think it's true in this case. I really do like verse 3 and I think that it'd be a good opener; you could even jiggle the verses around a little so that the story goes back and forth a little. Here's how I'd put your poem:

    Like every four-year-old
    I drank my grapejuice
    before the blessing.

    I can never remember
    if I have really been baptized.
    There are silvered dreams
    of a man holding me under,
    holding me under,
    forgetting his words.

    My mother searched.
    It was a race with crosses
    as batons, and I
    dropped mine entirely.

    Father was a pagan
    who found God his own
    unspiritual way. I took all
    my best qualities from him,
    and all my worst, too.

    One pastor
    a bigot, one priest
    uninspired. One church
    an ugly paint job.

    In this case, the idea is immediately introduced and it gives the reader something to work with. That's a bit messy but there are some ideas that you can work with if you want. I added an 'and' to the end of the Father verse. I think this verse does good coming after the Mother verse because it presents that contrast. I took the

    'for the right church
    instead of religion. '

    out because I think it says too much. That doesn't matter though. I think the verse is empty without it so you'd need something to replace it with something. I also put verse 4 at the end because I think that places importance on the role that other factors played on the narrator's rejection of the church and leaves the reader with those lasting thoughts.

    So did you grow up in different churches? It sounds like there would've been a bit of hassle! Some churches focus so much on trivial things but they don't look at what we all have in common.

    | Posted on 2008-07-27 00:00:00 | by Camo Star | [ Reply to This ]

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