Her scars are beauty
Meandering across place and time
Callused, lacerated, are my hero’s hands
A stick in your left. A cutlass in your right.
My hero has no statue. She has no plaque. No prize
I write these lines for her. Who. Now. Is in fleshless form.
Your cutlass echoes... Jesus… your garb as lily white as his skin.
Your burdens are as heavy as his.
My hero carries sugarcane on her head.
Home. In the dimness of dusk, where young ones wait
A callused, lacerated palm caresses each face
After she has set her stick and cutlass aside.
What a great poem!
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Gracias.
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This is one of those good poems that don't rhyme. I still don't get how people do this. Maybe I need to develop more feeling. I think I'm pretty decent at writing poems 'that rhyme', but not like this. For example, I also entered this contest and this is my entry: https://steemit.com/poetrycontest/@johnwjr7/steemitpoetrycontest-6-my-sister-s-hero . I think it's one of my better poems considering I did it in like 10 minutes. Though, since it is a true story, it was easier to write. Please take the time to read it and give me your poetic opinion. I'd also appreciate some advice on writing the non-rhyming poems. Thanks.
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First, thank you so much for your comment. It really means a lot. Before getting into your poem. I must say that I was struck by a seeming preoccupation you have with rhyming. Maybe the aforementioned statement is too strong, but either way. I would caution you against making this a primary focus in your writing. In my experience, all this does is limit artistic expression. Once you limit yourself, you have already lost.
A colleague of mine put a very poignant question to me once when I was explaining a project to him. He asked:
“What wound are you trying to excavate?”
The question remains one of the most important ones I have been asked about my writing to this day. So much so that whenever I sit in front of the screen or the page I ask myself this question continually. We have all been at that place where we feel hurt, many times when things hurt we cannot soothe the pain no matter how hard we try, only time can do that, and even after we have gotten to a place where we have healed the scars reopen.
It is obvious that you were close to your sister. This poem came from a genuine place. The problem I have, however, is that it is telling me how you felt and how you want the reader to feel. I don’t need this, I need to feel for myself. Think about going beyond what you did for her and situate the poem in a place where one can experience this gesture. I will give you an example. When you wrote:
But I do get a warm sensation
when she tells me, "I love you".
My advice is, try not to use this phrase. It is too hackneyed. It is something I have struggled with in my own writing and it is not easy steering clear of this simply because it is the easy route. Let me compare it to:
Home. In the dimness of dusk, where young ones wait
A callused, lacerated palm caresses each face
Without saying it, one knows that there is love there, and one tries to create that imagery. There is pain, but there is warmth accompanying that pain.
You gave her a kidney, that is good. But it feels like it is merely a recounting of events. Make me experience the love. Make me experience the hurt. Make me experience the pain. What wound are you trying to excavate? Answer this question and you will see things from a different vantage point. If other thoughts pop up I will definitely add, if you don’t mind. That said, reading what the greats have written works wonders when combined with ones experiences. I lean more towards prose poetry. I would recommend you read:
Great American Prose Poems—From Poe to the Present
Edited by: David Lehman
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I was recounting the events. I was limited on how much I could write on that one and wanted to get more into it. I can try to 'excavate' more and see what comes out of me. I also will check out some of the prose poems. Thanks for the information.
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My pleasure. I hope this was helpful though. At the end of the day, however, the writer knows best.
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Wow, wow and Thrice WOW!
This poem, and the accompanying comments to John, have caused me to click the follow button below your name.
Firstly, there is deep alliteration with the 's' sound throughout here - which gives it a whispering quality that, when contrasted with the harsh realities of cane cultivation, only serve to highlight the love that much more.
Several other alliterative moments dimness of dusk, hero's hands, flessless form, really round this poem out as pure pleasure to read, something that calls to be read out loud! I couldn't keep it in - it burst forth from my mouth as if with a life of its own!
I love rhyme, but I appreciate all the advice you gave to John and will be contemplating it as I continue to write poetry, and follow you!
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Thanks so much man. Your comments mean so much to me.
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