May 24th, 2010 / 4:23 pm
Snippets
Snippets
Alexis Orgera—
Are there cool poems and/or stories about motherhood? This is a serious, not sarcastic, question.
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Meta
http://www.amazon.com/Not-Mothers-Only-Child-Getting-Child-Rearing/dp/0977106489
The Rebecca Wolff/Catherine Wagner antho.
Or, the greatest mutha poem, evuh by Jennifer L. Knox:
Burt Reynolds FAQ
Burt Reynolds is the son of six grizzly bear brothers
and the Holy Goddess of Cherry Trees. He was born
from his mother’s nose, which ensures lifelong
charisma. Before he could walk, alligators would
gather to watch him wrestle other babies. He
excelled at all sport–especially football, baseball,
gymnastics, rugby, tennis, archery, swimming,
sailing and horseback riding. At school, he was not
the brightest student in the class, but he was the
luckiest: Whenever the teacher called upon him, he
would guess the answer correctly. When he was
seven, he grew his first mustache, which wealthy
older women fought for the privilege of combing
through with gold paint. He was made a general in
the President’s Army, but on the eve he was to leave
for battle, robbers clobbered his knees with a tar-
covered club. Burt was crushed because his knees
were crushed, but he never cried. The president’s
queen said, “Stay here and read me stories,”
because he was also the most talented storyteller in
the land. He rose to great power, which made the
priests and princes jealous. After the night a
murderer poured mercury into his ear as he lay
sleeping, he became The Lion Who Did Not Want to
Be Loved. But the people would not let him not be
loved. Neither would Burt be pinned. The match is
still going–no one knows who will win. At night Burt
returns to his home on the edge of a fire pit with a
lush green yard full of tigers waiting for him to read
a story, like the old days. Burt does not believe he’ll
have no need for toupees in heaven. In summer, his
mustache still grows unruly with lily of the valley.
I really liked Kate Daniel’s Four Testimonies. The writing of Chantal Chawaf are also excellent. Perhaps check out Mother Love/Mother Earth and just ignore the terrible-fucking-title. Neither, I suppose, are exclusively about motherhood, but I think they would work.
rachel zucker Museum of Accidents
http://wavepoetry.com/catalog/78-museum-of-accidents
Almost anything written by Paula Bomer is a great story about motherhood. Her forthcoming collection, Baby, is just… incredible.
There’s this:
http://www.pankmagazine.com/?p=636
and this:
http://www.opencity.org/bomer.html
and this:
http://emprisereview.com/volume-11current-issue/the-music-of-a-deaf-genius/
to get you started.
Hey Alexis, check this book out for motherhood poems, it’s a good one:
http://www.upne.com/0-9771064-8-9.html
Jayne Anne Phillip’s story “Bluegill” is all kinds of great. Think it is in the Norton POMO anthology, and elsewhere.
Also Zucker’s Bad Wife Handbook
The Mother by Gwendolyn Brooks
Alice Munro’s “Miles City, Montana” is terrific.
Also “The Children Stay” and “Jakarta” (both from The Love Of A Good Woman).
An obvious/older choice would be Sylvia Plath, “Nick and the Candlestick” or “The Night Dances.” The former actually made one of my students cry in class once.
I also feel like Alice Notley has some poems about motherhood and having a family and being a poet, from back in her early pre-prophetic days.
http://www.amazon.com/Not-Mothers-Only-Child-Getting-Child-Rearing/dp/0977106489
The Rebecca Wolff/Catherine Wagner antho.
Or, the greatest mutha poem, evuh by Jennifer L. Knox:
Burt Reynolds FAQ
Burt Reynolds is the son of six grizzly bear brothers
and the Holy Goddess of Cherry Trees. He was born
from his mother’s nose, which ensures lifelong
charisma. Before he could walk, alligators would
gather to watch him wrestle other babies. He
excelled at all sport–especially football, baseball,
gymnastics, rugby, tennis, archery, swimming,
sailing and horseback riding. At school, he was not
the brightest student in the class, but he was the
luckiest: Whenever the teacher called upon him, he
would guess the answer correctly. When he was
seven, he grew his first mustache, which wealthy
older women fought for the privilege of combing
through with gold paint. He was made a general in
the President’s Army, but on the eve he was to leave
for battle, robbers clobbered his knees with a tar-
covered club. Burt was crushed because his knees
were crushed, but he never cried. The president’s
queen said, “Stay here and read me stories,”
because he was also the most talented storyteller in
the land. He rose to great power, which made the
priests and princes jealous. After the night a
murderer poured mercury into his ear as he lay
sleeping, he became The Lion Who Did Not Want to
Be Loved. But the people would not let him not be
loved. Neither would Burt be pinned. The match is
still going–no one knows who will win. At night Burt
returns to his home on the edge of a fire pit with a
lush green yard full of tigers waiting for him to read
a story, like the old days. Burt does not believe he’ll
have no need for toupees in heaven. In summer, his
mustache still grows unruly with lily of the valley.
I really liked Kate Daniel’s Four Testimonies. The writing of Chantal Chawaf are also excellent. Perhaps check out Mother Love/Mother Earth and just ignore the terrible-fucking-title. Neither, I suppose, are exclusively about motherhood, but I think they would work.
rachel zucker Museum of Accidents
http://wavepoetry.com/catalog/78-museum-of-accidents
noy holland’s collection for fc2
Almost anything written by Paula Bomer is a great story about motherhood. Her forthcoming collection, Baby, is just… incredible.
There’s this:
http://www.pankmagazine.com/?p=636
and this:
http://www.opencity.org/bomer.html
and this:
http://emprisereview.com/volume-11current-issue/the-music-of-a-deaf-genius/
to get you started.
Hey Alexis, check this book out for motherhood poems, it’s a good one:
http://www.upne.com/0-9771064-8-9.html
Jayne Anne Phillip’s story “Bluegill” is all kinds of great. Think it is in the Norton POMO anthology, and elsewhere.
Also Zucker’s Bad Wife Handbook
The Mother by Gwendolyn Brooks
Alice Munro’s “Miles City, Montana” is terrific.
Also “The Children Stay” and “Jakarta” (both from The Love Of A Good Woman).
An obvious/older choice would be Sylvia Plath, “Nick and the Candlestick” or “The Night Dances.” The former actually made one of my students cry in class once.
I also feel like Alice Notley has some poems about motherhood and having a family and being a poet, from back in her early pre-prophetic days.
noy holland’s collection for fc2
“Hey,Yeah right, Get a Life” by Helen Simpson is a brilliant collection of short stories about motherhood.
http://www.amazon.com/Hey-Yeah-Right-Get-Life/dp/0099284227/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1274775029&sr=8-1
Seconded!
Also, That Baby by Lindsay Hunter is magic: http://www.everyday-genius.com/2010/04/lindsay-hunter.html
And (if I may be so crass), my review of Scorch Atlas digs on the moms in the book: http://www.otherother.org/2010/05/on-expectations-and-the-women-of-scorch-atlas-2/
You might check out Beth Ann Fennelly’s work.
Sarah Vap’s poetry book, Faulkner’s Rosary, is all about being a mother.
“Hey,Yeah right, Get a Life” by Helen Simpson is a brilliant collection of short stories about motherhood.
http://www.amazon.com/Hey-Yeah-Right-Get-Life/dp/0099284227/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1274775029&sr=8-1
Seconded!
Also, That Baby by Lindsay Hunter is magic: http://www.everyday-genius.com/2010/04/lindsay-hunter.html
And (if I may be so crass), my review of Scorch Atlas digs on the moms in the book: http://www.otherother.org/2010/05/on-expectations-and-the-women-of-scorch-atlas-2/
“People Like That Are the Only People Here: Canonical Babbling in Peed Onk” by Lorrie Moore.
I was going to suggest Fennelly– I really like her poem “Yield”, but couldn’t find the full text anywhere online.
Roman Fever by Edith Wharton is a steamy little story that involves two mothers reflecting on their lives as friends while their daughters romp around Rome. The last sentence makes my heart pace just thinking of it!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roman_Fever
the ending of that story really impressed me
You might check out Beth Ann Fennelly’s work.
Ditto on Zucker.
Sarah Vap’s poetry book, Faulkner’s Rosary, is all about being a mother.
“People Like That Are the Only People Here: Canonical Babbling in Peed Onk” by Lorrie Moore.
I was going to suggest Fennelly– I really like her poem “Yield”, but couldn’t find the full text anywhere online.
Roman Fever by Edith Wharton is a steamy little story that involves two mothers reflecting on their lives as friends while their daughters romp around Rome. The last sentence makes my heart pace just thinking of it!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roman_Fever
the ending of that story really impressed me
Ditto on Zucker.
This is great! Thanks so much for the input!
WHAT A LITTLE GIRL
HAD ON HER MIND
What a little girl had on her mind was:
Why do the shoulders of other men’s wives
give off so strong a smell like magnolia;
or like gardenias?
What is it,
that faint veil of mist,
over the shoulders of other men’s wives?
She wanted to have one,
that wonderful thing
even the prettiest virgin cannot have.
The little girl grew up.
She became a wife and then a mother.
One day she suddenly realized;
the tenderness
that gathers over the shoulders of wives,
is only fatigue
from loving others day after day.
-IBARAGI NORIKO
LABOR PAINS
I am sick today,
sick in my body,
eyes wide open, silent,
I lie on the bed of childbirth.
Why do I, so used to the nearness of death,
to pain and blood and screaming,
now uncontrollably tremble with dread?
A nice young doctor tried to comfort me,
and talked about the joy of giving birth.
Since I know better than he about this matter,
what good purpose can his prattle serve?
Knowledge is not reality.
Experience belongs to the past.
Let those who lack immediacy be silent.
Let observers be content to observe.
I am all alone,
totally, utterly, entirely on my own,
gnawing my lips, holding my body rigid,
waiting on inexorable fate.
There is only one truth.
I shall give birth to a child,
truth driving outward from my inwardness.
Neither good nor bad; real, no sham about it.
With the first labor pains,
suddenly the sun goes pale.
The indifferent world goes strangely calm.
I am alone.
It is alone I am.
-YOSANO AKIKO
This is great! Thanks so much for the input!
WHAT A LITTLE GIRL
HAD ON HER MIND
What a little girl had on her mind was:
Why do the shoulders of other men’s wives
give off so strong a smell like magnolia;
or like gardenias?
What is it,
that faint veil of mist,
over the shoulders of other men’s wives?
She wanted to have one,
that wonderful thing
even the prettiest virgin cannot have.
The little girl grew up.
She became a wife and then a mother.
One day she suddenly realized;
the tenderness
that gathers over the shoulders of wives,
is only fatigue
from loving others day after day.
-IBARAGI NORIKO
LABOR PAINS
I am sick today,
sick in my body,
eyes wide open, silent,
I lie on the bed of childbirth.
Why do I, so used to the nearness of death,
to pain and blood and screaming,
now uncontrollably tremble with dread?
A nice young doctor tried to comfort me,
and talked about the joy of giving birth.
Since I know better than he about this matter,
what good purpose can his prattle serve?
Knowledge is not reality.
Experience belongs to the past.
Let those who lack immediacy be silent.
Let observers be content to observe.
I am all alone,
totally, utterly, entirely on my own,
gnawing my lips, holding my body rigid,
waiting on inexorable fate.
There is only one truth.
I shall give birth to a child,
truth driving outward from my inwardness.
Neither good nor bad; real, no sham about it.
With the first labor pains,
suddenly the sun goes pale.
The indifferent world goes strangely calm.
I am alone.
It is alone I am.
-YOSANO AKIKO
Sons and Lovers.
Here’s an online journal I recently learned about (not new but new to me) called The Mom Egg, “publish[ing] work by mothers about everything and by everyone about mothers and motherhood.”
Sons and Lovers.
Here’s an online journal I recently learned about (not new but new to me) called The Mom Egg, “publish[ing] work by mothers about everything and by everyone about mothers and motherhood.”
Shirley Jackson’s two accounts of her Vermont household, Life Among The Savages and Raising Demons, sort of qualify. They’re very funny, which is more important.
Shirley Jackson’s two accounts of her Vermont household, Life Among The Savages and Raising Demons, sort of qualify. They’re very funny, which is more important.