Aamoo-ziinzibaakwad means honey in Ojibwe, it is a real name of a real person.

Thank you Steve for your suggestions. I have also changed a couple words.

first revision, slight word changes

Hi stood proud in his war bonnet.
Little Wolf Lake glittered sun drops
in the background.
His son whopped it up
behind the camera,
spilling the glass of vodka
only once on his bare feet.

There are things that should
never be gifted nor received.

Across the lake Ginny poured
her common law husband’s
bottles down the drain,
prayed to her ancestors
to forgive her carelessness
her love-blindness,
her need for a warrior
in a time absent battles.

Hi’s wife watched from the deck.
Aamoo-ziinzibaakwad, her name
given by the rez ladies
because of her sweetness.
She thought of the long walk
around the water to Ginny’s house,
the weight of the bonnet
and buckskin ceremonial suit,
calculated when memory would blur.

There are things that should
never, never be gifted nor received.

Ginny suffered only two fists to the face
before walking the lake road toward
her family’s honor
where halfway around she met
Aamoo-ziinzibaakwad laden with
feather and skin,
pride and apology.

There are moments
that should
never,
never,
never


Original
Hi stood proud in his war bonnet.
Little Wolf Lake glittered sun drops
in the background.
His son whopped it up
behind the camera,
spilling the glass of vodka
only once on his bare feet.

There are things that should
never be gifted nor received.

Across the lake Ginny poured
her common law husband’s
bottles down the drain,
prayed to her ancestors
to forgive her carelessness
her love-blindness,
her need for a warrior
in a time absent battles.

Hi’s wife watched from the deck.
Aamoo-ziinzibaakwad, her name
given by the rez ladies
because of her sweetness.
She thought of the long walk
around the water to Ginny’s house,
the weight of the bonnet
and buckskin ceremonial suit,
calculated when memory would blur.

There are things that should
never, never be gifted nor received.

Ginny suffered only two fists to the face
before walking the lake road toward
her family’s pride
where halfway around she met
Aamoo-ziinzibaakwad laden down
with feather and skin,
pride and apology.

There are moments
that should
never,
never,
never

I will post revision or new versions. Still testing the waters.

yes, multiple degrees.

in the forums i am seeking new eyes and how they read my poems. If there are parts that read disjointed or discombobulated I want to know.

why?

I loved this. I am not so sure that punctation will approve this. The way that it is broke I understand how you want it to be read. I like this very much. Nothing stumbled me. I have no clue why it was reviewed for content. I had wanted to respond days before.

This is a fabulous piece of Americana. I had a friend in college. She weighed all of 90 pounds. Her job was to break the horses. Her dad thought she was suited best for the job. You brought the memory of her back to me. Most importantly you allowed me to see into a world little of us know about. I was particularly close to my uncles. This was just a pleasure to read.

no, it seems that the site has a time delay. A half hour went by and it resolved itself.

however, i tried it again and it worked right away. so, I don't know what the problem was/is.

I agree completely.

Thank you again for your comments and I do appreciate them. I do think that you are not reading what is there in the stanza about Yvette. I understand that it is the writers responsibility to give meaning to the words. I believe that the meaning is in that stanza as long as it is not split up in reading. I believe that it is all there in rather plain English. There are many times when I see exactly where someone points out that my meaning is not there. When I read that stanza the use of the word "photographers" flows from the previous lines. It is not an island to itself. But I am listening to you. I just happen to disagree about that part and my "need" to explain it came from your questioning of it, it is not like I put an asterisk next to it then explained it at the bottom of the poem.


This is not a lively paced poem and I am sorry if that is not to your liking. Perhaps there will be other poems of mine that will suit that purpose better. This poem is meant to be slow in pace. There are many tempos in poetry. This writer wants this pace for this story/poem. I want the pace to fit in with how people move in used bookstores. Browsing is not fast paced and lively for the most part and certainly not so when we are talking of a grieving/mournful person. I have thought of how I wanted to present this piece. I thought that I wanted it slow.

mayo

I loved the description of the 'she' in S1L5-6. For me the similar lines of S2L2-3 work quite well. I get the feeling first in stanza one of the observer observing then those lines in stanza two bring me into the couple themselves then back out again to the observer with S2L5, which really is a hope or expectation of the observer and may have little to do with the observed. The final line being completely about the observer. Loved the transitions in such a small poem. Well done. I call these snapshots. I love snapshots because they allow the reader to step into the poem and make leaps and connections too, just like the observer in the poem. Cool.

mayo

Very funny, Larry. Thanks.

mayo

it is fixed now.

I changed my avatar, and it told me that my avatar was changed, but it does not show up as a change anywhere, except when I click on avatar changes. It has the correct avatar there. Any advice?

Mark, I will think about the suggestions you have presented. I do find that some of the suggestions are removing my voice in the piece. Part of the placement of words are to direct the pace of the piece. I want the voice to be slow and deliberate, sort of a feeling of numbness. I will look at your suggested cuts and see if the voice gets lost completely.

To respond to photographers versus photographs. She is shelving books in the photography section. One does that by photographer not particular photographs, in the same way I wrote Balzac not the theme of Balzac. I felt that Yvette would be a woman that viewed the books as particular characters. But I see your point.

In the stanza if I was to replace my words with "there are indeed places between heaving and hell" it would miss my point completely. hmmmmm. I will look at that stanza with a sharp eye today.

Thank you for your careful read.

mayo

Thanks Alan for the suggestions.

1)The plural of still life is still lifes. Every time that I reread this poem and want to put it up for discussion I have the urge to change it to still lives, but I would be wrong. I did want the plural, but your suggestion would smooth that place for readers.

2)The "but" suggestion sounds just right.

Mark, I am not sure what you are asking me. I am not making a statement about the validity of Christianity nor Greek polytheism (is that the proper term? I think you get what I mean.) I am just curious to the use of two very different schools of religion (I called it mythology not as an insult). It felt a bit disjointed to me. I was just curious as to why you chose those comparisons.

I certainly didn't mean to insult Christians nor Pantheists. I am not one to present my personal spiritual leanings on a public website. I was being generic. I am aware that believers in any sort of religion feel defensive when what they view as true is lumped together with things that they do not view as true. I was neither aware that you are a Christian nor a Pantheist, or for that matter an atheist. I meant no disrespect.

mayo

Vess,

I am familiar with that poem, "Sold Out". The final two stanzas is such a perfect description.

"I follow,
Absently mimicking his walk,
And stand a post away.
We don't speak of causes or reasons,

Don't speak at all;
We just stand there
Leaning on the weathered poles,
While shadows consume the pasture."

I read that poem at least once a year, often times more. I didn't realize we had a celebrity in the house. I have always wondered if that is a picture of you in the book?

mayo

btw, I understood this poem not to be about gambling but about the racing of horses, which implies the raising or owning of horses, a very expensive enterprise.

Cleo, I would rather this particular post be about my poem. I responded quickly to a comment made to me about "bumping", you came in to, I suppose, defend the site, and in the process put me in my place. Thanks for the enlightening interaction. Again, I feel that that kind of interaction would be better suited in say a pm, not a public forum, but also again this is not my site.

I won't be answering anymore questions about my personal feelings about my poetry or my experiences elsewhere unless they have to do with this particular posted poem.

I also did state that I was looking for anyone that saw places in this poem that needed work, that I would happily receive those comments. I would prefer the reprimands to be done in pm if they are necessary at all.

mayo

Thank you Steve and Marc.

Thank you for the links. I didn't see anything about "bumping" my poem. And I waited two days to do it without posting anything new, so it seems to me that there would be no blatant 'wrong' in doing so. I do not expect someone to respond to me "two seconds" after I post. That was a rude comment.

Btw, I have been here longer than a week not less than one.

Vess,

This made me smile. I love the feistiness of Aunt Ruth. But mostly I loved the detail of the cantaloupe. That added a level of wonder. If they hadn't actually raised cantaloupe you would have had to invent that. It is the shine on this piece.

mayo

Thank you for posting this. I believe that we need to hear poems like this. We need to be reminded. In this instance ignorance is not bliss.

You do have one spelling mistake in L8. Small typo.

I want the past to stay past, but it is so hard to think in those terms when we still have soldiers at war around the world.

mayo

I love so much about this. Navajo silent is just a perfect as you can get! This whole piece is such an excellent snap shot of a time and place. The fifth stanza works so well because the rain has not only flooded the dry gulches but also as caused the cafe dwellers to spill over. Loved that part especially. It worked so well with the entirety.


mayo