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Angel Unaware: Poems
Angel Unaware: Poems
Angel Unaware: Poems
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Angel Unaware: Poems

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Born in a writers' workshop in Ouray, Colorado, Angel Unaware presents human history as seen through the eyes of various personae. An angel whose assignment is to "observe" humanity writes from the viewpoint of a being who has no comprehension of what it is to be human, giving a unique view to our history. Interspersed throughout are poems from the perspectives of various characters, both Biblical and contemporary. Together the poems function to communicate faith.

Treating Biblical events with sincerity and respect, the poems explore the unity and logicality of a coherent and consistent world view. Phrases and images recur throughout to weave poems and sections together in order to express the sublime.

As literary poetry (a/k/a "academic" poetry, which is a rather stuffy-sounding term), the poems take various forms--sonnet, haiku, ballad, tercet, couplet, and prose poem, as well as other stanza variations and free verse forms. The uses of imagery, paradox, ambiguity, patterns of sound, and other devices serve to intensify the meaning and communication of experience.

From the introductory poems to the final ones, the reader should find poems that enlighten, delight, and possibly even shock, as characters, such as Eve, Bathsheba, and a servant-girl in Nero's court, are given voices to express their perception of events and circumstances.

As the poet Jeff Knorr writes, "When reading poetry, whether we're an experienced reader or not, one thing is certain: Poetry ought to move us [ . . . ] It might make us cry out loud over a page. It may move us to very simple and quiet contemplation of our own life [. . . ] And, poetry may turn us inside out without warning." May you react to these poems with any or all of these responses, and may you enjoy what you read.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherAuthorHouse
Release dateNov 28, 2011
ISBN9781467044981
Angel Unaware: Poems
Author

Victoria Carroll

Victoria Carroll (M.A., English, Creative Writing, Emporia State University) has taught poetry, literature, and composition at ESU, University of Kansas, and at Baker University School of Professional and Graduate Studies. Winner of the 2003 Word Journal Poetry Prize, she has published work in that journal, the Connecticut Review, Flint Hills Review, The Midwest Quarterly, and other journals. Also an accountant, she lives with her husband in rural east Kansas.

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    Angel Unaware - Victoria Carroll

    Contents

    Introduction

    One

    Two

    Three

    Four

    Five

    Addendum

    A Last Word

    In loving memory

    of my father and my mother,

    whom I miss greatly

    but will see again.

    We have gone to the moon.

    We have spoken to angels

    of unspeakable matters …

    —Vassar Miller,

    Culture Shock

    Introduction

    At a touch of my hand

    The air fills with delicate creatures

    From the other world.

    —James Wright,

    Milkweed

    An Angel Travels Across Human Time to Observe History Unfold

    I. What I Observed Before the Current Assignment

    Lucifer, clothed in music and light, cringed

    when the Maker announced to the heavenly host and Spirit,

    This is my Son. (We beheld one brighter than us all—

    so bright, in fact, we had to shield our eyes.)

    It wasn’t Lucifer to whom he pointed. I saw

    the prince of angels wince, he whom we

    had previously looked up to as our leader.

    I saw his countenance grow dark, as though the stars

    had fallen. His notes and chords discordant then,

    I had to plug my ears lest I should hear

    such disharmonious sound. And then a war

    began. One third of my comrades sided with Lucifer,

    convinced he’d win, appoint them to a throne.

    They’re falling still—down,

    and down,

    and down.

    II. Assignment: Earth

    From lowest rank, my charge is simple: observe

    the behavior of these new, human creatures, who

    were made in my Master’s image, though (I think)

    flawed. I find it odd the way they touch,

    press their lips together, and moan. Their words

    I understand. Although they don’t see me (made

    of different stuff), they’re teaching me names of every

    living creature: the dove has wings, the eagle,

    the cockatoo; the kangaroo walks on two legs,

    the cow and horse on four. What a host of diverse

    breathing things! variety of flowers, bushes,

    trees; and, oh! the air that carries scented

    breeze from the greenest, most intriguing tree

    of all—that one, in the garden’s very heart!

    One

    History, not wanted yet,

    Lean’d on her elbow, watching Time, whose course,

    Eventful, should supply her with a theme;

    —William Cowper,

    Yardley Oak

    The Observing Angel Witnesses a Sudden Change

    I

    On temporal assignment from heaven’s regal place

    and atmosphere, I found the surroundings here

    at first to be quite pleasant. I perched beside

    a river with four mouths; its babbling sound

    reminded me of home, stilled and soothed my mood.

    Watching those two was easy—they didn’t do much;

    mostly they walked in the garden or merged into one.

    So I ignored them, preferring to watch the animals.

    Enthralled by the song of wrens in luscious trees,

    I missed the one event that changed my lot—

    or their lot, really—mine by occupation. Ranks

    above me, two cherubim stood guard beside

    the garden’s gate—and we—outside! barred

    from feasting on the fragrant tree of life, whose scent

    was peaches, pears, and apples all in bloom.

    II

    The humans were always talking about their sin

    (which word itself means nothing I understand),

    and how an offering of blood covers it.

    I took a knife to my own skin one time

    and found no fluid there, much less the red

    liquid I see when lambs are slain. I’m like

    the turnips and squash that Cain offered to God.

    (I know because I sliced them when he left,

    angry that God refused them, demanded blood.)

    I’ll give you blood, I heard Cain think. I observed

    him watch Abel’s fluid drain like sap

    onto the well-plowed ground; then he planted him.

    Was he trying to grow him back, or cover the deed?

    Like those from Eden he was banished, but marked for life.

    Eve’s Confession

    I could tell

    the fruit would taste delicious:

    its smell

    lingered in the perfect breeze

    to tease

    my hunger, my appetite for sweet

    fruit, dripping

    of juice. I hesitated a brief

    spell like the falling

    of a leaf. It was too great—

    this promise

    to know all things, to be

    as God

    in full command of all.

    That call

    seemed louder than his words.

    For a moment

    I forgot we

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