Wednesday, January 15, 2014

White Knuckles

There will be murderous rage.
Swallow it.
It's your wafer at this murmurous mass.
Open the door to the blue scald silence,
and call it spirituous.

Your tongue is your last, best offering.
Hollow it;
split it in half.
Wreath it round the yew tree
so the curious

can weigh the wild of your mourning.

For Brendan's prompt at Real Toads

28 comments:

Susan said...

Aiee! The rending garment and furrowed cheeks of mourning applied to tongue, words and thought. Split, they make displays, snake forward, lie. Hide the knuckles. Who can handle true rage and grief?

Fireblossom said...

This is raw, and disturbing and in-your-face genuine.

Kerry O'Connor said...

So hard to put human pain and suffering into words, but you have found a way. This is so affecting, MZ.

blueoran said...

I don't think we can write by Plath's lamp without grinding our verbal knuckles against a skull -- her's, ours, the moon's, whatever. This is 200 proof recognition of what is found there. Great stuff, MZ.

blueoran said...

Another thing -- the door opened here is always a question mark, asking, do you really want to go there? Axes like this cannot tread lightly. I wonder if this is why Ted Hughes burnt Sylvia Plath's final journal after she committed suicide -- not to protect himself, I don't think but to protect her children from premature exposure. As we all would protect our loved ones from our poems' hardest and worst.

blueoran said...

Another thing -- the door opened here is always a question mark, asking, do you really want to go there? Axes like this cannot tread lightly. I wonder if this is why Ted Hughes burnt Sylvia Plath's final journal after she committed suicide -- not to protect himself, I don't think but to protect her children from premature exposure. As we all would protect our loved ones from our poems' hardest and worst.

georgeplace2013 said...

blueoran "As we all would protect our loved ones from our poems' hardest and worst." I think you may be right with that statement. I know there are some poems-really emotionally raw - I don't want to share with anyone.

The tongue, who can tame it. Your poem is amazing.

howanxious said...

Powerful. Intense. I loved it, for it said so many unsaid things. Great writing.
-HA

Sam Edge Author said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Sam Edge Author said...

This is how I felt reading the original poem by Plath - angry and powerful

Sam Edge Author said...

This is how I felt reading the original poem by Plath - angry and powerful

hedgewitch said...

As always, your words are both informal ballet and sharp slap, a dance and a cold drenching in the dark belly of an ocean that seems calm and beautiful but has monsters below. Really fine writing, MZ.

Robyn Greenhouse said...

I'm sure there were and still are so many curious to keep finding more and more details of Sylvia's life and death. White knuckles - the perfect title for your poem.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

OH! MY! GOODNESS!Plath lives again. I adore the "blue scald silence". The tongue around the yew tree "so the curious can weigh the wild of your mourning is just out of the park brilliant.

my heart's love songs said...

this rocked me back on my heels with the power of it! stunning, MZ!

Sioux's Page said...

Mama Zen--This is searing.

wkkortas said...

Terrifically paced, with just the right amount of detachment to keep it from goiing off the rails. Top-notch work.

Margaret said...

…and call it spirituous. I do belive Sylvia sought it - but obviously wasnt' successful. This drips pain.

steph said...

Such emotion, and then that finale so the curious can weigh the wild of your mourning. I love that.. and the whole poem.

Vandana Sharma said...

A power packed piece:)

Susie Clevenger said...

I have felt this. I never thought I would be the one so overcome with grief I would scream why at the foot of a tombstone...but I found myself there crying out questions that will never be answered...powerful writing

Sumana Roy said...

I like 'Your tongue is your last, best offering.'....powerful write up

Lorraine said...

you couldn't have called it better, this is...I have no words but it's understood and its hollow

Grace said...

"Your tongue is your last, best offering". - I love this second stanza best & the way it rolls to "wild of your mourning" ~

Helen said...

"Swallow it. Hollow it." Your command is my wish. Great write.

grapeling said...

this is brilliant ~

razzamadazzle said...

Wow! So much emotion in here.

aspiritofsimplicity said...

i like the split tongue and the last line very much. Very nice.