Isn't there a danger of being too cerebral when we read poetry at the
intensity and with the depth of analysis that you and Carl are practicing
here. Don't misunderstand me, the List is a workshop, work is submitted for
comment and so comment is presumably invited. In-depth analysis can benefit
the analyser and the analysed and is to be applauded when it does. I do not
think I read Thomas or Heaney or Hughes, though with that degree of
intensity and I have to admit that if I did I feel I would miss much that is
required to be 'enjoyed' in a piece. If I were required to write an essay or
even perhaps if I were intrigued as to how a poet had managed to make a poem
capture me so well I might pull a poem apart. But when we pull a poem apart
aren't we just left with a handful of words.
The poem in question spoke to me through the repetition which was repeated
almost like a mantra, almost a reassurance of the poet by the poet but try
as she might she was developing all the things she disliked and feared ( or
perhaps just did not want to recognise as inherent in herself ) in her own
mother. All the evidence she presented indicated that perhaps she was
becoming that which she averred she was not and a fine tension was evident
but more than that that there exists a sisterhood which cannot be shaken off
nor dismissed by a five word assertion. Now that is how the poem struck me
straight off and I do not think analysis would let me glean morethan that
nor do I think I would gain more as poet and a person, a man, by indulging
in any greater depth of reading. That is just my opinion , of course, and I
am a mere man reading a poem written by a woman about the nature of her
womanhood and dare not go to close to such a subject. regards Arthur.
----- Original Message -----
From: "Bob Cooper" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Tuesday, May 06, 2003 1:03 PM
Subject: Re: I am not my mother


> Hi Carl,
> No, you're not alone. I recognise what you're saying. I wondered about the
> addressed line: "I am not my mother" too. In the end, tho, I wondered
about
> all of the complexities of making such a statement - of how it both did
and
> didn't make sense - and, even tho I could never make it myself (perhaps
> because I'm a bloke), I felt it worked by expressing the kind of anger
that
> rarely needs, or uses, rational words to express.
> Your point about it being a phrase that can be seen as scaffolding, tho,
is
> well worth considering! So I'm now thinking - because most of the words
are
> short, because there's so much energy in how things are phrased - it's
worth
> considering a draft without them...
> But I wouldn't go as far as hinting at "insanity" (which almost sounds
like
> Plath's "Daddy, Daddy!), I'd rather think of it as a poem that's pushing
> itself towards the boudaries of what can be said and understood by
others -
> and I'm often thinking I ought to try and do that more myself.
> I'm also aware that we're two blokes! But perhaps because we can see the
> form more than experience the content, see the trees and not just the
whole
> wood, that a spectator can see more of the game, that your points have to
be
> examined carefully.
> Bob
>
>
>
>
>
> >From: Carl Reimann <[log in to unmask]>
> >Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
> >To: [log in to unmask]
> >Subject: Re: I am not my mother
> >Date: Mon, 5 May 2003 15:12:59 -0400
> >
> >It seems that regarding this poem I stand alone: it is liked by everyone
> >else. So, perhaps I should make some greater effort to substantiate my
> >opinion that the driving insight is unpolished and requires, or
> >amounts to, repetition. Here is one way to look at it. Try substituting
> >"She was my mother" for each instance of "I am not my mother". What you
> >will find is that the poem is equally coherent yet flush with a
> >different insight. What this means is that the driving insight boils
> >down to the repetition of the one sentence: the rest of the poem does
> >not soundly support or inform the repeated clause. Another experiment:
> >try removing the repeated clause. What you might find in doing so is
> >that the poem becomes less overt, more subtle. One wouldn't be compelled
> >to encounter again and again the rather strange statement, "I am not my
> >mother", which nobody is anyway, and have to wonder what it really means.
> >It's almost as though "I am not my mother" is just a placeholder for the
> >writer, like a scaffold for builders, to be removed after the fact.
> >Nobody wants to look at the overt scaffold structure of a finished
> >building, but the structure is present, hinted at, supporting the
> >finished product.
> >
> >Another way to look at it is, suppose "I am not my mother" to be the
> >lunatic screams of a crazed and institutionalized person. Is it hard to
> >imagine that? The strangeness of it, the repetitions, amount to a form
> >of insanity. It strikes me as out of place.
> >
> >I think what has happened with this poem is that the readers have been
> >too willing to infuse it with their own interpretations, to give it the
> >benefit of the doubt. People read it with a view to their experiences of
> >their own mothers, etc., and I think its poetical nature is being
> >examined less closely. The details surrounding the lilac bush are rather
> >insipid, I think because so much repetition has been relied upon. The
> >writer here is essentially leaving scaffolding in place after the
> >building is declared finished.
> >
> >
> >Carl
> >=======
> >I am not my mother
> >
> >I throw away some of her
> >threadbare towels
> >that once belonged to my grandmother
> >the demanding mother-in-law
> >my mother hated
> >
> >I am not my mother
> >The lilac tree perfumed
> >our yard purple every May
> >I purchase a few lilac sprigs
> >their price dear
> >
> >I am not my mother
> >I save her knickknacks
> >the Dresden iceskater
> >my father gave her
> >because they met
> >at the Ice Arena in Chicago
> >the elves and miniature houses
> >just because they were hers
> >One elf gets shattered in the laundry
> >stuck between the towels
> >I wash
> >thinking I'm going to keep them
> >
> >I am not my mother
> >I wonder what my daughters
> >are doing for me for Mother's
> >Day   Whether they remember
> >
> >I am not my mother
> >Her picture on my nightstand
> >I want to talk with her
> >but she clearly said
> >even though ailing from dementia
> >     You're loudmouthed
> >     dirty and that is why your
> >     husband left
> >
> >I am not my mother
> >My mother cried a lot
> >My father yelled at her
> >a lot  I did not want to cry
> >but cried too when my husband
> >yelled at me
> >
> >I am not my mother
> >Bedroom doors were always
> >open   Mine is always closed
> >I know someone now
> >who knows me
> >a grown woman
> >perfect like lilacs in May
> >
> >I am not my mother
>
> _________________________________________________________________
> Use MSN Messenger to send music and pics to your friends
> http://www.msn.co.uk/messenger