Mother
Oct 9th, 2009 | By R Jay Slais | Category: Poetry | 270 viewsOh dark mother, wound me
with ten knives in the heart
toward that side, toward that bright time
toward that spring time without ashes
………………………………Pablo Neruda
The solitary seed of me swims in arrows of sun,
a conception sequestered by dusk and dawn,
tremor of climatic rain, the black water of night
fell in sheets. Fill the hollow, the bread mans crust
risen, I scratch and I claw
and I struggle to finally see.
Matrimonial daisy, you flourish
in short season, your yellow heart of life,
bountiful nectar, that set me free.
Oh dark mother, wound me.
Storm winds gather in cloud conspiracies,
ruining over the land like a herd
of carnivorous butterflies, a cyclonic trample
of wings that steal blood, flatten bones,
stems drain dry. Fallen
onto the earth, you depart.
Child of clay, silence of statue,
no saving grace when everlasting night.
Oh mother, fingers of heaven have torn us apart
with ten knives in the heart.
I dwell in layers of crushed bone and dust,
a field filled with empty skulls, any growth
plowed under, row after row after row.
A seed again, flowing up a sacred stairway,
agony upon air, the promise of crops.
My mother, now your memory sublime
as rancid heat splits my shell, taken to the edge,
a cloak of husked sun, fodder for famished bird,
eviscerate regret, metamorphous in rime
toward that side, toward that bright time.
New eyes, it is hard to encounter myself,
creature of ice melt, the thaw of great solitude.
Stubborn wounds thrive in geothermal waters.
Submerge me in factories of neutral air, regenerate
ancient legs with their flowing red sinuous ties. Stand
in awe, the dominant screams of hummingbird clashes,
reverently pause sipping nectar, remember the daisies
and how she loved them. In white fingered yellow suns,
I follow the storm, look out on thunderbolt flashes
toward that springtime without ashes.
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About R Jay Slais: Some of R Jay Slais’ recent publications include poems at Barnwood, MiPOesias, Oranges & Sardines, The Pedestal Magazine , The Rose & Thorn, and Twisted Tongue. A single father raising his two teenagers, he fell in love with poetry and himself on the same day. He writes from his home in Romeo Michigan while working as an engineer/inventor for a Metro Detroit automotive industry supplier. |
©2009 R Jay Slais All Rights Reserved
Hey, thanks for publishing my poem Carl and T21 staff!
It’s an honor to be a part of your magazine.
Just a small note about this one. It was one of my only attempts at form poetry as I normally write free verse (except the thousand rhyming poems I wrote when I first started that are locked away in a box somewhere…lol) .
This form is called Glosa.
Here’s a synopsis of a glosa poem.
The Glosa,
is an early Renaissance form that was developed by poets of the Spanish court in the 14th and 15th centuries. In a glosa, tribute is paid to another poet. The opening quatrain, called a cabeza, is by another poet, and each of their four lines are imbedded elsewhere in the glosa.
The opening quatrain is followed by four stanzas, each of which is generally ten lines long, that elaborate or “glosses” on the cabeza chosen. Each ending line (10th line) of the four following stanzas is taken from the cabeza.
The usual rhyme scheme of a glosa is final word rhyming of the 6th, 9th and the borrowed 10th lines.
Thanks again!
R Jay
Bobby, I loved this poem when I read it (posted anonymously so I didn’t know it was yours!!).. I love Pablo Neruda too..
Why thank you Piquita, that is very sweet of you to say.
Yep. Pablo rocks huh!
Smiles!!