Women, split by the seed
since Mr. reached into a cavity,
broke off a fine branch and decorated
it differently. They know. They know
how to be astonished by a squirming
beneath the belly that rises up, like yeast,
like a bubble after a bad burn,
like the hump of a growing camel.
Laying on straw, on a rope bed,
on a spring mattress, on steel,
surprised by a bevy of beasts,
by the hurt look on a non-father’s face,
by the flurry and flutter of wings
riding air like Northern Lights;
a woman knows arcs affectionately.
Oh, women of that sixth instinct
know which spill spreads by dividing,
by diving, by determination, to be divine.
She feels it grow legs to walk away from her,
leaving the scene of the accident,
rising and going out into wars, into weeds,
into deserts and mountains will they go. Away.
But she will recall, recount and retell
the first story of her first time.
In a list
A contest entry
- Ain't I A Woman by Nicole Hanna.
600 points, ended December 11, 2006, 19 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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I sincerey loved this piece. It was surely the one to beat and I was rather intimidated upon first reading this. It had such a classic feel to it, in the works of plath or sexton, and held a grace that lacks in most pieces on this site.
Congrats on a very deserving trophy and such a voice for the feminine.
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excellent-
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your poems are deep with meaning..with many connotations and many situations and emotions and faces of life .i like them
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added
One poem....a Piece of chalk...and I have added you to my favorites. I msut spend some time reading much more of you...that poem clearly knocked my socks off..what power...
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OMG
How have I not found you before! This is fantastic writing. A little bit of new voice, old story and a thunder to the heart. I absolutely love this. "how to be astonished by a squirming
beneath the belly that rises up, like yeast,
like a bubble after a bad burn,
like the hump of a growing camel."
just stunned me to silence of respect...
"She feels it grow legs to walk away from her,
leaving the scene of the accident,
rising and going out into wars, into weeds,
into deserts and mountains will they go."
This one took my breath away. You are on my faves list for sure. I so thoroughly enjoyed every word of this.
hugs Wolfie
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Wow!
What a rich and engrossing tale. Your deeper waters roil here. The voice of mother screams here, for man to understand the foolishness of warrior, the wrap of mothers arms. Your flow of language and phrase ring holy in this, one of my very favorite of yours. I'm glad I made my clumsy attempt to channel estrogen before I read this. I would have shut up and layed by my dish! This piece reverberates with the perfect tone for this contest! -
"She feels it grow legs to walk away from her,
leaving the scene of the accident,
rising and going out into wars, into weeds,
into deserts and mountains will they go. Away.
But she will recall, recount and retell
the first story of her first time."
This empty nest might be the coldest cut of them all.Or if they not journey too far for too long,a blessing. It's the shock of no herd to tend that leaves to weeps. Lots to be said for FREEDOMMMMMMM!
~~Suseann~~
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Ahhhhhhhhhh
After seven children and ten foster chidlren spread their wings, it was really difficult to fit in to the new role I was placed in. I spent a good year sorting out my newfound aloneness. It was lonely, my goodness. The fact that I moved into a fly-in community except for the deep winter road across the ice that I could use, when I wasn't terrified I would fall through, forced me to learn to thrive alone.
there are so many different kinds of aloneness; some self-imposed, some unwanted. But, those times during those four years that I eventually spent there, were defining moments and times.
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