Tuesday Poem: Ripple by Helen Heath

Monday, 17th January, 2011

Ripple

The floor has a ripple

in it, which is funny

because the carpet is blue

like the sea and the baby

is pulling and chewing

on your nipple so hard

that it bleeds

and her little legs kick-

kick you, her hands find

your hair and pull hard

and there's a roaring

in your ears that might

be the sea and they ask

you if you're blue and

you say you just need

some sleep then everything

will be alright but now

the floor has a ripple in it.

 

 

I think I may have forgotten to let you all know that I have some new work over at Turbine 10. Here is one of the pieces.

Easing back into the Tuesday Poem...

If you would like to submit a poem to be published on my blog as a Tuesday Poem (They can be previously published) contact me.

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Comments

oh so witty and sharp

Ooh I find this poem hard to read because I think I'm still in ripple-land, but I love it and mothers all over the world will thank you for writing it. xx Helen

Helen, this poem - marvellous. So marvellous. It is the sister poem I think to the hub poem this week by T. Clear. Another commentary on 'the womanly art of caring.' Thank you. Mary

wicked little poem - love it, r

I love the shape of this poem, the way the rippling floor contains the searing middle.

Mm, there's a hardness to this poem that is delightful. Thanks for posting, Helen!

I read 'witty, sharp, wicked', but it still makes me melt - the kick-kick and the hand in your hair - but I'm a Granny now and in love with my granddaughter - so I'm blinded by love with the image of a mother feeding even if the floor ripples and she's bone tired - it's the tug of love that I love and what's a little blood.

Helen, that poem is lovely. Not an experience I have had directly, but I know it well from my friends. Being a mother isn't all sweetness and light, especially not when you're so tired you're asleep on your feet. I also love the rhythms you set up, and the water swimming dreamy blueness. Beautiful.

I like the cleverness of the poem's construction and the mix of hard reality and dreaminess in the content.