Thank you, Adam. I have such mixed feelings about the grandiose imposing structures -- real and virtual -- that human beings erect "to the glory of God." They are beautiful, many of them; in their time, they provided a purpose and a livelihood for many poor families. But but but ... why not spend the time and fortune imitating God-With-Us, who goes looking for the Creator's glory in the homes and hearts of those poor?
Thanks, Elizabeth! Yes, I definitely enjoy meditating on the human stories behind the grand edifices of history. I love architecture, but I can't see a cut stone without also seeing the hands that shaped it and the hearts that broke and mended in its presence. A lot of my poetry plays within — and tries to expand — the borderland where the grand and the mundane meet. So thank you for taking the time to comment. 🙏
I really enjoy that zoom from the macro to the micro here, and the importance of the detail in the everyday vs the magnificence and grandiosity of time.
Thanks, David! Those are definitely some of the themes I was playing with here, so I'm glad they came through for you. Thanks for taking the time to comment. :)
This is lovely and so true. We traveled to Norwich, UK about a year ago and toured Norwich Cathedral, one of those awe inspiring structure. We even got to meet Budge, the cathedral cat, who was very charming. The scale of those buildings is overwhelming, but the ones that have survived this long feel very special. I'm not a religious person, and I certainly have mixed feelings about all the history/politics/economics that go along with these places, but the craftsmanship, ingenuity, artistry, and sheer pluck in attempting such a thing are constant sources of wonder to me. We followed the winding streets behind the cathedral to a tiny pub that legend has it was present when construction was underway. Apparently it was where the workers would stop for a pint after a long day. It's called the Adam and Eve. The cathedral was beautiful, but my memories of the pub, the human scale of it, the tiny door only as tall as me that my taller husband had to duck through... I think I recall the pub more clearly and fondly. The pub, and Budge.
Thank you, Tara! I love this story! I think I'd have the same reaction you did, about the pub with the tiny door and Budge the charming cat. :) Sounds to me like there's a poem lurking in that pub...
The cathedral, yes; but most importantly the workers. And I might add, the workers made it. It did not make herself. I like much how the poem ends. Good read!
Thank you, Adam. I have such mixed feelings about the grandiose imposing structures -- real and virtual -- that human beings erect "to the glory of God." They are beautiful, many of them; in their time, they provided a purpose and a livelihood for many poor families. But but but ... why not spend the time and fortune imitating God-With-Us, who goes looking for the Creator's glory in the homes and hearts of those poor?
Thanks, Elizabeth! Yes, I definitely enjoy meditating on the human stories behind the grand edifices of history. I love architecture, but I can't see a cut stone without also seeing the hands that shaped it and the hearts that broke and mended in its presence. A lot of my poetry plays within — and tries to expand — the borderland where the grand and the mundane meet. So thank you for taking the time to comment. 🙏
Stunning verse. The sparse poetics, the subtle politics. Beautiful. Best thing I've read today. :-)
Thanks, Dick! I really appreciate the comment. :)
You're very welcome :-)
I really enjoy that zoom from the macro to the micro here, and the importance of the detail in the everyday vs the magnificence and grandiosity of time.
Thanks, David! Those are definitely some of the themes I was playing with here, so I'm glad they came through for you. Thanks for taking the time to comment. :)
Love this 🌟
Thank you, Brian! 🙏
This is lovely and so true. We traveled to Norwich, UK about a year ago and toured Norwich Cathedral, one of those awe inspiring structure. We even got to meet Budge, the cathedral cat, who was very charming. The scale of those buildings is overwhelming, but the ones that have survived this long feel very special. I'm not a religious person, and I certainly have mixed feelings about all the history/politics/economics that go along with these places, but the craftsmanship, ingenuity, artistry, and sheer pluck in attempting such a thing are constant sources of wonder to me. We followed the winding streets behind the cathedral to a tiny pub that legend has it was present when construction was underway. Apparently it was where the workers would stop for a pint after a long day. It's called the Adam and Eve. The cathedral was beautiful, but my memories of the pub, the human scale of it, the tiny door only as tall as me that my taller husband had to duck through... I think I recall the pub more clearly and fondly. The pub, and Budge.
Thank you, Tara! I love this story! I think I'd have the same reaction you did, about the pub with the tiny door and Budge the charming cat. :) Sounds to me like there's a poem lurking in that pub...
The cathedral, yes; but most importantly the workers. And I might add, the workers made it. It did not make herself. I like much how the poem ends. Good read!
Thanks, Luis!