Tuesday, October 04, 2005

journal entry #2

Morning Song

Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.

Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival, New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safetly. We stand round blankly at walls.

I'm no more your mother
Than the cloud taht distills a mirrow to refelct its own slow
Effacement at the wind's hand.

All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen.
A far sea moves in my ear.

One cry, and i stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat's. The window square

Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons.

I really enjoyed this poem because it gives such a beautifully joyful feeling to the event of that which the poet speaks. I really like how the poet doesn't stay in a "regular" sentence structure between the line breaks and stanza breaks. I liked how the sentence seems to just be cut short. The mixture of simple, familiar nouns and descriptive pronouns (ie. Victorian) really bring life, color and picture to the event being described. What I liked the most, however, was how the title of the poem is "Morning Song" and it wasn't until the very end of the poem until song was brought back into the picture with, "Your handful of notes..." It all just really tied the whole poem together.

2 Comments:

Blogger Naseem said...

I agree with brianne this poem does bring beautiful joyful moment to the event. It makes the process of childbirth seem even more spirtual and intimate. i also like the speakers choice of words because they are unusual but flow together very well.

9:06 PM  
Blogger Danny said...

Really interesting poem. I like how it slowly reveals what is going on using a plethora of images. Agreed, there is alot of life, color and visual vividness to the event being described. The development is pretty cool too, how we start with one sort of metaphorical morning or birth, and end with the literal morning song, or the baby's "clear vowels (that) rise like balloons".

9:05 PM  

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