Haughty hypocritical holy-rollers Speak of damnation and hellfires I sit, tiny in my patent leather and white nylon, And soak it all in. Pass the collection plate, let me throw quarters at my sins in hopes That I, repentant lamb, humble mouse, Might find His favor. I want forgiveness! I want to be Saved from myself, this Eight year old heathen, O Lord! Hallelujah! Another soul is saved. I wade through the waters of salvation In a noisy backroom baptistry I wait for the change, restless, impatient It doesn't come. *This poem is a change for me, and needs improvement. I've worked it over and changed lines, words, stanzas, but I still feel it's lacking. Any comments or criticism is welcome and needed!
This is a great poem. At first I was unsure about the patent leather and white nylon. My thoughts turned to kinky nurses. It made more sense when I found out the age of the writer. I love the fact that it's written from a child's viewpoint. That's when they tend to suck us in. The first line is great. I've always been a fan of alliteration. The third verse is very touching. I can feel her guilt, her burden, her fear. And the last two lines are just superb. A great finish. Good job! Looking forward to more from you. Peace, A.
I wasn't sure about the title, but the poem is really good. The capitalization of His is a perfect touch. Sometimes putting something aside for a few weeks and coming back to it helps, but I think it's hellacious.
