My mother used to rise at dawn
And put the percolator on
Thereby preserving for herself
a tiny corner of the day,
safe from the Man's demands.
As the Sun eased away from the river
in whose arms he'd all-night lain;
As day put colour on,
She'd sit and read
Or dream a time,
Savouring her coffee
and the hour.
Sometimes she'd write:
Dear Sam,
The sky is blue.
The birds are singing in the trees.
Ted next door hasn't been too well
And I'm going in for a checkup
Soon.
But the sky isn't blue, not at dawn;
And the birds were screaming in the trees;
And Ted next door had cancer
Too.
And all the things she could have said
about herself
and myself
All these she left unsaid.
So that when she died, all I had
Were these fragments of memory
Like pot-sherds
For me to reconstruct some meaning through.
And now,
I see her everywhere in my looking-glass
But I cannot reach through time
tho I cut myself to ribbons trying.
This,
They call this
Mourning.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 15 of 15
-
very nice
very beautifully written...dont have much time to write an elaborate comment but let me tell you..this poem touched my heart..it has such depth and intensity in it..loved reading it
language: 4, rhythm: 5, subject: 5, tone: 5, form: 5.
-
-
time or not, thanks - it's lovely
to know that something has touched another, best wishes RA
-
-
How amazing how you have tied morning to mourning. I hope the is a poetic exercise vs. a real life experience. If you have lost your mom, I'm so sorry. You have captured a "moment in the day" that reaches out into so much more than that - into a lifetime. The seemingly inoccuous things of life turned into Ted's cancer and her passing. The last two verses are so beautifully tragic.
From verse four on, you have switched from what a mom would present to her son and what the realities are. Mom's try to protect their children from these things and it sounds like that's what she instinctively did.
I wouldn't change anything. I think you did a great job of capturing what you wanted to. Beautiful write.
Butterfly
language: 5, rhythm: 5, subject: 5, tone: 5, form: 5.
-
I loved the flow of words and the title and last line tying in the two themes of mourning and remembering the mother savouring her morning. I think that your writing is very strong creating vivid pictures for the reader. It made me sad also because to lose a parent is to sift through raindrops for remembrance. You can never fully create a picture (maybe that is like losing anyone who truly loved you from the beginning.
I also liked the way you used this woman as an illustration of a mother and a wife-rising before the rest of the family, i find myself being like the mother in the poem, locking up after everyone, being the first to rise in the morning. Being the heart of the family.
I love your writing.language: 3, rhythm: 5, subject: 4, tone: 4, form: 4.
-
-
Thanks, AM...
I am so very glad to please you whose work I like.... yes the memory of my mother rising just to get that sliver of time, of quiet for herself... women are the heart of the world I think. Tho maybe men are its beating... Best and happy New Year to you/
xa
-
-
beautiful
what other words of an elegy can say it all? -
hey riveralex
you have a way of cutting to the core. even though this piece was about your mom i think its universal-the plight of women as mothers and wifes who have to give give give and tell themselves that everything is fine even if it isn't just to have the strength to carry on to keep giving until it kills them. your gifted.
dave -
The best of the four excellent poems I've read by you. The last 5 lines are sublime and the poetic thought of her words being like pot-shards for you to try and reconstuct is .... poetic indeed. Great imagery here. I rise early every morning to write 'morning pages' and you easily captured (and then brilliantly and eloquently corrupted) the feeling of calm the quiet of the house has at that hour of the day. Somehow the chit-chat nature of the person's writing made it more immediate, accessible and real, yet one could understand the frustration of the bereaved and the struggle to hold on to such thin branches of a life. This is mourning indeed. This is the nature of it. Bereavement is one of the few events that ubiquitously inspires poetry, much of it awful alas, but almost all of it needed for some reason by somebody or somebodies, helping to fill a void that somehow nothing else will really help fill. This is far from awful. This is great. Thank you for it. >W<
-
-
I am very pleased
... that you back-checked to read it - I too think it's one of my best, it took some time to write and construct, and my usual process is just to get it down then trim it with the hedge clippers. Or the chain-saw (as appropriate.) Thanks for the thoughtful and close reading - glad it sparked something for you.
Best RX
-
-
relatable
i really like this. it describes almost exactally the process of watching a loved one die; the before and after, not to mention during. I'm not much of a poet at all, but I appriciate it, thanks. -
Reality in the air
This poem floats in memory, in regret, in love, in missing for me.
The first verse sets up so perfectly what is to follow. Our mother's generation had to work hard to find that quiet moment alone.
And the verse with the letter that sounds so mundane and innocent only to have it completely turned unside down by what follows.
This is wonderfully strong and layered writing.
The delicate way that you express your frustration with your/the
mother not sharing her real life so that the narrator has something real of the mother to hold on to. I find that so sincere and truthful.
I like this poem very much and am looking forward to reading others by you.
Eosmia
language: 5, rhythm: 5, subject: 5, tone: 5, form: 5.
-
-
Something we share
I am so pleased that you experience this memory so much as I do - I am sure something in our histories must run parallel - and I appreciate very much your paying it the gift of your attention - thank you for your lovely encouragement.
-
-
This poem is poignant. The way two words of similar sound is used to mean each other is beautiful. The emotion expressed is well controlled. The words float in the air. I am at awe the way you ended it with that one word that grounds the poem to its meaning. The distance you set, on the second to the last stanza was so real and tangible to me. And it feels as if the voice is going to break anytime soon, then reserves itself. It hold on a very thin string that can break, maybe similar to the person in the poem. A honest poem. One thing...last line for second stanza...do you mean it to be "tho" or is it a typo?
glad to have read this.
-iphios -
For me, this was a wow. Perhaps because I could almost picture my own mother sitting early mornings, having coffee, keep a few minutes for herself. I love the way you tie in the title with the ending. It sort of gives it the "full life" or full circle effect.
Glad I clicked. It is a touching read.
-
Good poem, riveralex...
...for me, a very good poem indeed. Unpretentious in style, clear in literal meaning, rich in detail, passionate. At the same time, it has deep resonances for me, really fine use of both "river" and "looking-glass" images (among them, "cut myself to ribbons trying..."), so that the literally plain writing adds up to a poetic glow by the end.
I like its free structure, its apparent looseness as a poem, yet I can sense the labor and reminiscence under its lines, its very fond memories. I lost my mother a few months ago, so this poem rings true: all those missed chances...that helpless feeling.
This is the first of your works I've seen. I'm glad I did. And, welcome to the site!
Lad
Just a note: a couple of months ago, I decided not to use those applause thingies anymore, although I have no problem with others using them if they wish. Those smiley faces reminded me too much of grading student papers with A or B or C or so on; seemed too patronizing to me. I preferred, and do now, comments. Hope you understand.
Adding your comment:
1 - 15 of 15
