There are times

for my mother and hers

When my pen refuses its ink to me,

inspiration dry as the moon’s alter face,

I think about the bodies, framed and stored –

the menstrual flows that tie me

to my mother and hers,

the subtle brightness of their orbits,

and in that remembrance rises

the image of them among the tall sugar cane,

cutting, stripping, pressing out its juice for me,

their green earthed scent

permeating into my dreams,

the sweat of their love silently soaking into me,

its dormant catkins now springing

fresh from under my unturned flesh –

and I am reminded that there is more

to my life than this infertile moment.

My purpose is not to dig for words;

I have freshly pressed juice and memories

adding meaning to me and my chosen.


© PilgermannBM 2023
UKA Editor's Pick!
Views: 689
critique and comments welcome.
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I’ve read this several times, and each time I reflect on it with admiration. If you dug for these words I’d be surprised because they read as if they have flowed from the heart.


A deep and powerful poem, finely crafted, PilgermannBM. Very impressive.
Despite the masculine pseudonym, I seem to detect a female identity.
Best wishes, Luigi.

Last edited 1 year ago by ionicus

Lovely PilgermammBM. Perhaps you have tapped into your feminine side to inspire you, unless, as Luigi says …..


Yes, indeed. And now we know your gender.


I have come back to this; a most eloquent and evocative poem; I can’t praise it too highly.
I can almost taste the sugar cane juice – it brought memories.


I call this ‘free verse’ though not sure if that’s the correct definition; and while I’m still somewhat bound by rhyming, this piece just soars on its own wings, and not the borrowed wings of others; a well-deserved nomination.

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