For a Mother Who Doesn’t Sleep


       for Mum

Unlasting, the same as
the creases in a sleeve,
a here today-gone-tomorrow-type
action.
Almost baffling;
the amount of shell-worn
trowels and pincers you’ve
stuck into the earth
at godless hours,
the salted water
and lasting smiles
with two dogs
in the corner.
The breaking of morning,
the creeps it takes:
first the leaves
of the hazelnut tree,
then the whitish path
where it curves like tallow,
sneaking up
on the bathing bird
in the centre of it all.
Stopping to tap its
finger
on the side of
your temple,
almost gone now,
a soft yet finite
incognito.
Unlasting, the same as
the creases in a sleeve,
the bird is gone,
but chased by the sun
and the wafts of
wind over
the gangrels
of grass –
steeped and steady
he leaves the water
sonorously,
and then there was you –

Β© Eve Redwater 2012

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33 thoughts on “For a Mother Who Doesn’t Sleep

  1. I’m still looking for a metaphor and imagery to frame all I want to capture about my mother. I’m probably searching for the impossible, but this beautiful poem gives me hope.

  2. Hi Eve, I couldn’t find a place to comment on Unwelcome, so combining comments on both poems here–you have such wonderfully unique and sensual phrases and juxtapositions–in Unwelcome especially–the daguerrotypes and foxes–the different seasons, the inhuming of the moon under the stairs–many interesting caught moments. K.

    • Thank you! Sorry about you not being able to comment on Unwelcome! I’ve had a few people mention this now, but I’m still not sure why that would be, perhaps someone can help shed some insight? πŸ™‚

      I’m really happy that you like my poems, and thank you for taking the time to read and comment on them too! Please feel free to stop by any time!

    • Thank you for reading Maryanne! I thought a bit more of a personal post is always welcome – I’m just glad my Mum liked it! So glad you like it, too. That makes me feel really positive. πŸ™‚

  3. you def have a wonderful and unique way of approaching poetry…the time you take of the creep of the sun over so many lines and in intriguing ways…just a small bit that is so intriguing…

  4. The soft slowness of this, accentuated by the thin line, brings this poem up to your usual standard. There is so much beauty in this language:
    the bird is gone,
    but chased by the sun
    and the wafts of
    wind over
    the gangrels
    of grass –

    and then there was you, the summation statement that brings the beauty home to your mother.
    Good poetry means, but does not say and great poetry does not mean, but is. I have to say that this poem is. It is of itself, layered with subtle meanings that demand a second and third reading. The originality of it strikes so hard at the senses, in a gentle, almost creeping way, it almost leaves you breathless.

    • “Good poetry means, but does not say and great poetry does not mean, but is.” – that’s such a fantastic thought, I’ll keep that with me from now on. πŸ™‚

      Thank you for such a wonderfully heartfelt comment, I’m so happy that you like it Thomas!

  5. Yours is the first blog layout that caused me problems in trying to comment. Finally figured out how to do it.

    Thanks for letting me camp out in your blog this morning. I had a great time and tried to leave my campsite as clean as when I arrived.

    I won’t go back to the posts I read today to comment, but next time I come camping, expect a few more comments from me.

    • Oh, no! Not more commenting problems! I’m beginning to think it really is WordPress’s sudden change in the commenting system, what trouble did you have if I might ask?

      Thank you for camping at Redwaters, I hope our services left you refreshed and well rested for the trials of the day ahead. Please stop by any time. You are most welcome. πŸ™‚

      See you soon!

      Eve x

      • All the other blogs that have had a similar layout as yours always had a little spot at the end of the blog post that said something like “15 comments” or “leave a comment” and then you just clicked there to leave a comment. In yours I finally figured out that I needed to click on the post title to leave a comment.

        • Ah, I see. Thank you! That’s a shame if it causes problems, though I’m not sure if it’s something I can edit with this theme, I’ll keep an eye on it!
          In the mean time, the Guestbook is always there to help out if any one gets stuck – or fancies talking about anything off-topic. πŸ™‚

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