NO SPACE FOR DOUBT

Hello there

Sometimes we need the reminder that life is temporary, and that we can’t take our material gains with us. I think in its simplest terms, this poem reminds us of our mortality.

I’m a big fan of English folklore, and this poem almost reads like a quiet 17th century hymn. It has its own little classic flavour to it.

Thanks for sharing.

-M

"... this poem almost reads like a quiet 17th century hymn. It has its own little classic flavour to it.:

I'd be grateful to see some examples of the 17-century hymns you think this submission (almost) reads like.  Which ones do you have in mind?  

And does a stanza that uses the same word three times [great] really have a classic flavor to it?

…I don’t have a particular one in mind. Neither am I going to sit here wasting my time trying to find one that you’re just gonna argue the toss against anyway. However in terms of the texts I have experienced, it does. That’s me personally. That’s my opinion.

I’m not sure why you feel the need to move in and question everybody who dares comment on something you don’t personally like. Bit of a dick move if I’m honest.

Poetry is subjective. There is no one right answer. If you don’t like it, don’t comment on it, maybe take that stick out of your ass and move on.

Kind Regards.

"…I don’t have a particular one in mind. Neither am I going to sit here wasting my time trying to find one that you’re just gonna argue the toss against anyway. However in terms of the texts I have experienced, it does. That’s me personally. That’s my opinion."

Here's a link to a fair number of them.  FWIW,  I don't see any that resemble what J-Z wrote.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:17th-century_hymns

"I’m not sure why you feel the need to move in and question everybody who dares comment on something you don’t personally like. Bit of a dick move if I’m honest."

I just want to see why anyone who thinks that J-Z's poetic skill, not his message, is good has good grounds for thinking so.and can articulate them

And the claim that poetry is subjective is one that is used to justify self-indulgence and patent inscrutable nonsense.

" If you don’t like it, don’t comment on it,"

Except that J-Z asks for honest criticism of his "work", not his message.

Oh wait! I found one.  

https://bit.ly/42aSXrH

Very dear Missy,
Thank you very much for the way you have described my poem. You gave me great pleasure to describe it in such a way. I can't think of poetry without  a good subject matter and without a perfect rhythm. I believe a good subject matter, and a good, flowing rhythm are the two essential elements that make poetry. Thank you for saying it is like a hymn. Your words are a great encouragement to me. J.Z.

"I believe a good subject matter, and a good, flowing rhythm are the two essential elements that make poetry."

I wonder if old J-Z knows
that if the language used
inside a rhythmed line that flows
unhindered in the way
it runs upon a page
is not itself beguiling, fresh
and full of images and sense
that cause a reader to be swept up in
a new experience
the composition
that the lines are set within
is hardly poetry
no matter how exalted, grand,
its subject’s thought to be.

To wit

God’s grace is like a piece
of haystack cauled with tarmac tops
as ants march pipered in balloons
by women’s underwear
and hallelus from donkey’s thumbs
rise up upon the sterile ground
to dent the hair upon Jill’s jack
alack alack it cries
in strains of hymns alive, fulsome

The subject here
– the likeness of God’s grace-
is quite sublime.
The meter of this composition’s lines
is fine and faultless too.
But as to whether it’s good poetry
the answer is
it isn’t worth a dime.

Could you please tell me how the text you've submitted relates to the title you've given it?  No space for doubt about what?

I see a vital need for earning coins,  
in surplus too,  
despite the fact that fate decrees  
that one day I’ll be dead.  
 
It’s grounded in fact  
that what’s required to thrive  
while I, by God's decree,,  am set  
to be alive upon the earth  
is sustenance  
and the means to meet  
the need to have and keep  
a roof over my head  
to shelter me and those I love  
and stay them safe from harm.  
 
And no belief in realms above  
whatever comfort is attached to it  
will in itself provide them all  
with clothes, and warmth, and food  
nor be accepted by my grocery man  
or those providing me with heat  
and electricity  
as valid currency.  
 
What good does the acceptance  
of an afterlife do for my brood  
or me  
when we are cold  
and hungry in this present life  
and have outstanding bills to pay  
to keep free of a lifetime’s deadly strife?

******
P.S.  This has a good subject and it is set out in a flowing rhythm.   So using your criteria, J-Z, you have to admit that it is poetry.