my arms are speechless
to the door
to the left
to the kitchen where your
floured breath cooked perfect
childhood and dumplings
and helped me skip past
the slap of diapers
and the meals of maidenhood
and it was so quiet
the way death padded up
like a white cat whose flat blue eyes
told me the story of blood
and cooling sheets
of the way slippers feel
when feet fall asleep
and she gave me her son
his nose snoozing on paws
as yellow as eggs
and lacking the blue
hue of your
nails
and i wanted to die
so i could sit at your table
though the plate may be hollow
and the cup only borrowed
and i cannot say how long you
laid
there
on that afternoon
lips sewn with the secrets
of seafaring men
but now
the moon comes in fragments
its sickle face shaking off
the skin of the day
and i must stand here
unafraid of things like
sleep and cooking
and become as tinged
as a january man
still
sifting
through
the oracle of
your bones
Author notes
for poa...
In a list
A contest entry
- For My Teachers (5300 points) by just rob.
5000 points, ended March 1, 2008, 21 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 21 of 21
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This was such an amazing piece, I had to go back and read it over and over. Well done here. Best to you in the contest
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congratulations on the gold. The vocabulary in this is rich and understanding does not come easily which is a good thing; causing one to ponder over it. Thank you for the entry.
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Oracle is such a beautiful word, in my opinion. So that just set off the whole poem before I even clicked on it.
Your grandmother seems to be a great inspiration to you, or at least something/someone that compells you to write such exquisite poetry. Another beautiful one 
Jeanette*~
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I had to come back to read this...
as I do with favorite authors and poets.
So well done. So deserving.
Kathleen -
You just stroll into allpoetry, as one does. Creating brilliant poetry, like routine; like washing dishes and drying hair. Almost like you are filling time. You are a natural, and brilliant. Congrats on your gold
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Congrats on the gold...a wonderful piece of poetry this is. I loved the imagery in this poem as well as some of the phrases you used like:
lips sewn with the secrets
of seafaring men
and
floured breath cooked perfect
childhood and dumplings
well done
Ruth
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Congratulations on the gold trophy for this brilliant work, I am in awe of the controlled power and beauty of this profoundly sad piece.
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Congrats on the gold. Certainly genius.
Lisa
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From one 'genius' to another...my thanks and bless you...
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Wooo ... that's gold alright!
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congratulations, well deserved gold
al
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Yes ...
you're awesome. Rob is correct. (But of course I already knew that.)
Congrats on your trophy.
-
I discovered that I could actually keep the authors hidden
by avoiding the comments. Here, again, I'm sorely tempted. The starkness of the lack of punctuation, the way this digs at me with cat's claws and metaphor from that second stanza that reduced me to waiting before I could go on, brings to mind someone long absent from my eyes, yet here, in my own little poems, someone who had a resounding impact on the honesty I try to spill. Yeah, this one, I could get with two guesses.
Consider me "tinged" as a january man, in congress with a ghost.
This contest reads like an example to the acedemics of how their politics and cliquishness
is dumbing-down poetry, with a level of artistry that I don't see in the poetry journals anymore. This took my breath away.
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DON'T GO AWAY AGAIN! You possess something I haven't seen in anyone else and I miss reading your work.
Amazing as ever, especially the ending.
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"still
sifting
through
the oracle of
your bones"
Pure genius. Sorrowful, poignant & magnificent. This is why Rob calls you "teacher", my Friend. Good luck in the contest, Sweetie. I'm sorry you wrote this one so well. Wanda
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Wow. You are just so good at writing. I really wish you post a little more often but I guess this kind of stuff takes time. I like how you leave all your ideas and images kind of subtle so that readers can find their own way to the end of your poem and it's meaning. To me though, it sounds like you missing someone that has been gone for awhile and was an important part of your life. You've done such a good job of expressing yourself.
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and I'm so glad he did. I've missed your work, makes me feel like I have a longer road to travel down when it comes to poetry. So many lines, I wish were mine.
Excellent work, if you're not writing when you're not here, you should be, no... you have to.
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I love when you write about her and death.
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The reader is experiencing the dual conflicts of wanting to say congratulations for pouring the purest poetry onto the page and yet it feels audacious, inept and even insensitive to say so, yet I admire how you have poetically painted the hardest weight we ever carry, which is how to walk with part of ourselves no longer with us but in memory, oh yes, a thousand times a day and at night in dreams.A courageous write,cathartic and with your own unique voice.Sending you heart-hugs and respect from across the pond.
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excellence is rare
I have to agree with Dienush...create you do
each stanza could stand alone in brilliance, yet
they weave through our minds and lace life back where it belongs
inside
great to see you girlie
peace and hugs
Muddy
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Wow! Really, this poem is above anything I could say... You create such wonderful, intense images with your words, and make them speak so softly but sharp at the same time. There is no mistaking the feeling here, and yet there is a perfect balance in the way you handle words and achieve this. This is beyond beautiful, so very touching.
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