I have scissored hair and ashed forehead
in open-faced grief: I have no modesty left;
no high-held head of hope,
no black-veiled serene step past pitiful pews,
no faithful smile in your return
this is grief, my god, this is grovel
turned upside down to a growling god
that could allow this
every mother, ever breathing in
dead smell of stillness
on stopped breath of a son
knows
knows right to the far-flung wail
of wishful thinking
that there are no returns.
This is for keeps; my god, forever,
before we can sink down into the grit
we have just buried you in.
Author notes
jpg provided by contest holder
In a list
A contest entry
- Second Image by PhoenixFox.
700 points, ended September 12, 2007, 11 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 20 of 20
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Fascinating--everything you say is in the picture, even though nothing is really "there." A marvelous poem, equal to the agony in the great Renaissance pieta statues. Well defined in image and language. Congratulations.
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I wanted the poem to speak of all creation as much as one woman...thank you for your comment micol.
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I liked the alliteration you used in this. It worked well and the word choices suited what you were saying. Your poem is rather dark, which I found to be a pleasant surprise. You are right. There are no returns and in life you play for keeps. Thank you for entering!
~Phoenix
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ty so much for your nice comments...it does have its darkness, as did the statue to me...that dark, horrible grief of woman/women.
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The grief and bitter disillusionment of faith
break upon the page here. You take a saint's face
of anguish and bring a deep meaning clear...
no words {prayers} can mend a mother's broken heart.
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that is tur..and each reacts differently, as does each poet seeing this magnificient picture of this statue.
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I feel the anger, the disallusionment, the despondency, I also feel the pain too...
"this is grief, my god, this is grovel
turned upside down to a growling god
that could allow this"
No Mother should have to experience such grief.
~ Nicholas
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and I beleive every mother has. ty, pen friend
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Simply Supurb
awesome...need I say more?
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ty malabu, what matters is you said something.
and I appreciate it coming from you!
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"no high-held head of hope,
no black-veiled serene step past pitiful pews,
no faithful smile in your return"
Perhaps we cannot know the way of things just yet, my Sister...But when you run low on Hope, you know where I am...Good luck in the contest, Sweetie... Wanda
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funny thing, hope....jsut when you eed her,,,thee she be and such are you, my friend...
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Powerful to the extreme! You manage to portray a mother's grief in a tangible manner that few could fail to comprehend. The third stanza is the most impressive I think, well it stands out the most for me.
Peace Georgia
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ty Gerogia.... I have worked in communites where grief jsut never seems to end... they enver have time to heal from one, or even begin before another comes. I have seen such faces.
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Simply amazing
As prolific as you are, each time I visit your word, I'm the better for it...
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welcome back, my friend and thank you for your comment.
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What a wail of a poem in completeness. I feel this in the pit of my being. To have to bury a child is a haunting thought to me. I have buried a brother, a father, and in no stretch of imagination wish to bury a child. Oh how this poem tears at the spirit. You have painted a sorrowful picture. I can see how the artwork inspired these words. Brilliant work. You are such the talented poet my friend. I am in awe and stand to give ovation! I wish you well in the comp. I do hope the host sees the gift presented here.
Much Love & Respect ♥
Renee
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ty, Renee, I am often taken back to the "silent scream" and think that this statue is the msot absolute expression of every grief woman/man can have.
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Very descriptive, ilked reading this poem alot. I see it is in a contest, and I want to wish you the best of luck. To me u have a gold already. But then again, Im not the judge. Great write!
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ty, silvos, I am a poet who has one prolific Muse... such images as this stir her as she has never been stirred. I do appreciate you stopping by and commenting.
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