Triptych 1: Mass

Gold cherry
Poem of the week
Pick of the Month

By Philip Sidney

Tue, 05 Jan 2016
  • 9626 reads
22 comments
 

Mother in a mantilla

rubs her spit dampened

handkerchief across a child’s face,

not clean enough for God,

who lives inside and judges us all.

 

She unpurses lips to reveal

a tight mouth drawn on

with matt lipstick,

fit to speak the strange words

from another time.

 

Her bag snaps shut

and with a brisk neat clip of feet

she pulls a dreaming girl

through the yawning mouth

of worship.

 

Sunday best behaviour means

sitting and standing like the others,

linger with the kneeling,

head against wood to smell

a trace of weekday prayers.

 

The priest has the nicest clothes

knows all the words

sings them like a lullaby and

bows his head as boys ring bells

and waft sweet smoke to beckon sleep.

 

Stories are droned in an ancient language

so children make up their own to speed up time

from sweet-faced pictures in high windows

but not from the people who face the front,

it’s rude to stare at them.

 

Ritual ordeal affects a change -

out on the pavement

masks drop

smiles 

exchanged for gossip

 

the crowd thins -

threads toward

a steamy drift

of roasting flesh

and cabbage.

 

Certificate 12
Poem

Comments

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

A perfect child's matter-of-fact voice - well done

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Thank you insert.smiley

 

Thanks for the cherries!

Submitted by celticman on

beautiful and true -god knows it's true and so do you. 

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Thank you celticman :)

Submitted by Ewan on

Yo hubiese estado en España, verdad.

A terrific poem

Ewan

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Muchas gracias. :)

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

This is our Facebook and Twitter Pick of the Day!

Get a great reading recommendation everyday. Please share/retweet!

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Thank you so much for the beautiful golden cherries!

Submitted by airyfairy on

Very evocative - brought back a great many memories.  Many congrats on the well deserved golden cherries!

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Thanks airyfairy! 

Submitted by Bee on

Loved this.

Bee

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Thank you Bee :)

Submitted by jeand on

Hi Helen

A very well done poem - and no doubt very near what many children would think about a Mass. I think this one was a Greek Orthodox one - with the emphasis on foreign language and the bells and incense. Not that the English and Roman masses weren't like that in the past. I have struggled through long services in the Russian and Greek churches on occasion - and although it was interesting to experience, I wouldn't chose that as a weekly routine anymore.

Jean

Jean Day

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Thanks Jean, it's part memory from the masses of my early childhood. :)

Submitted by Jane Hyphen on

This is really lovely. I found it very calming, like being inside a church but maybe as a little fly instead of a person with all the silly expectations and guilt.

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Thanks Jane, although it's church I was keeping religion out of it.  :)

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

This is our Poem of the Week - congratulations!

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Wow!  What a lovely surprise:) thank you for the pick! smiley

Submitted by blighters rock on

Yep, the buildings are built and man's been debunked. It's all pretty similar these days, just different. Excellent words from a true poet.

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

It was always thus, thanks Blighters.  True poet - you made my day. smiley

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

This is our Poem of the Month - congratulations!

 

Submitted by forest_for_ever on

yes

Boy!  This took me back.  My mum was an expert at hanky-scrubbing cleanliness.  I was always dressed up in my best for Sunday School and often remember her preening me in exactly the same way.

Loved the poem.