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 2022
Views: 405
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.
Allen
Allen, this was a moment when I was staring out of the window, children asleep, and my mind a dry well, when suddenly these images began to appear, and i was reminded just how powerful a mother’s love is and how it has coloured and driven my writing.
Thank you.
A deep and powerful poem, finely crafted, PilgermannBM. Very impressive.
Despite the masculine pseudonym, I seem to detect a female identity.
Best wishes, Luigi.
Lovely PilgermammBM. Perhaps you have tapped into your feminine side to inspire you, unless, as Luigi says …..
Val
Val, Luigi has a sharp eye and an even sharper ear for the way that language is used and how it reveals the writer!
Yes, indeed. And now we know your gender.
val
Thank you Luigi. This is written for and dedicated to my mother, who despite all she has seen and endured during her life still finds time to radiate a love that is deep, endless and without question. I just hope that I, as a mother, can do the same for my children.
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.
My dear Dodgem, thank you. I am pleasantly surprised by your comments. A dedication to love given does not need any digging for words, and this was gratitude for a mother who has shielded her children, protected them and shared herself in moments that i wear as a glittering necklace of 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.
Best….Dougie