st r u gg ling artist ii

                    my boy
          i am the shade of his sun
afraid he will burn, but

i am more than the smell of the bosom
          he has learned, to grow up and leave and cleave
                   to the woman of his heart 

                                     i am the album of regrets and
                              and deficiency and forgiving

the roots that climb deep down parents' omissions

i am the redemption of the years my mother
        pushed through the choices she didn't have, on grit and coffee

                       did you know? korean grandmothers don't
                 have a name but Grandma in korean
           and tradition erased their childhood
    -- no one heard -- their cheerful silence was
their greatest gift to us

i am the epode on the piano
        G major 7 in improv and 
                                  syncopation
while i keep time for my family, i am the   sus pension
                                  that knows to resolve

                                      the heave of jazz
                      i can S C A T

                           i am the cherry blossoms that concede
                     their soul in season, unabashed
         and the ones that could not    hold    on
                          their delicate dance down in death
                                  dust to dust    

                           i don't need self-esteem
                           i know Whose i am
                   but God doesn't have twins and
                   He doesn't make machines
         we are each His masterpiece

         no -- no, i don't want to roar
         that i am Woman

                           i just wish silence --
                  license -- to put to paper my person

              who cares what i am
       but the earnest page
and the memories and dreams that ask not to die

i am the apology that i know what i want
                    and have begun to sing before the cicada's time

                           i am the choices i live with
            am almost the books i wait
                                        wait
                                                 to write.

CherryBlossoms
The Commons Getty Collection Galleries World Map App

A fascinating report on cicadas ran in a number of media outlets 
last year. A certain species remains underground for 17 years, 
surviving on roots, to buzz an intense noise for six weeks upon 
surfacing - only to perish. After months of trying to figure out 
what about these creatures enthralled me so, it hit me in the
writing. Seventeen is about the age kids leave home for college.
 

111 thoughts on “st r u gg ling artist ii

  1. I know nothing about poetry, but this sang to me. “we are each His masterpiece.” I think that the word ‘masterpiece’ is translated from is very interesting – it’s poeo or poetry. Isn’t that a lovely thought…we are His poems

  2. I love this one. This part will stay with me forever I think:

    i am the apology that i know what i want
    and have begun to sing before the cicada’s time

    i am the choices i live with
    am almost the books i wait
    wait
    to write.

    I am so blessed that somehow my journey’s energy got entwined with yours. 🙂 Peace and happiness this lovely Friday, Diana

  3. Reblogged this on like an apple and commented:
    Diana continues to write exquisite and bitter and juicy lines about the life of a woman trying to be a poet and a mother. My favorite part:
    i am the apology that i know what i want
    and have begun to sing before the cicada’s time

    i am the choices i live with
    am almost the books i wait
    wait
    to write.

  4. Oh, Diana! This speaks to my spirit so much truth! My very soul poured out through your pen….
    “i don’t need self-esteem
    i know Whose i am

    i just wish silence —
    license — to put to paper my person

    who cares what i am
    but the earnest page
    and the memories and dreams that ask not to die.”

    Thank you, my friend. Your words have spoken so much of myself.

    • THANK you for letting me know, Doris. And I feel especially blessed to have touched you in the deep place for all you have given to other women and the heaviness you have known of late. All my love.

  5. I popped into see this post … and why it is that I sometimes read something that is so good, impactive … words (good) flowing out of your story and I am rediculously short on time, now, to write more specifically about this great poem? I’ve got my Bernese Mountain Dog hiding under my desk at my feet as the explosive thunder is rolling across us … my doge HATES thunder. Dinner and laundry and … Well, go to go. Keep writing, fellow sojourner … You are blessing many. T

    • Thanks. Your final point that the reference is bosom, not shoe, was helpful. I saw that made all the difference. It was a faint old, old grammar injunction from the recesses of memory that had made me worry, that “smell” is usu. negative, as in smelly.

    • Goodness. You certainly took me back, Chris. Oh my. All I need to be.

      Thank you so much for the rich regards and the reblog. Your tale is worth telling, btw. Pretty amazing life there. I hope you are well.

      Blessings.

  6. whoa.. this poem is pretty powerful. so many great metaphors in one poem, i don’t know that i can digest them all. but indeed my favorite stanza is “i don’t need self esteem, i know Whose i am.”

    so well said. reminds me of psalm 139. thanks for this reminder. =)

  7. Quite lovely. I am somewhat confused by the indentation used so I ignored it save for the line breaks. The following three lines stood out as best of the best:

    who cares what i am
    but the earnest page
    and the memories and dreams that ask not to die

    Magnificent!

      • I don’t understand why you indented anything unless it was just for decoration. I feel I might be missing something. There was an author I can’t remember that did this for purposeful effect, not that I understand. I do remember Lawrence Ferlinghetti did it and I remember him being criticized in a poetry writing class. It’s all fuzzy.

      • I can appreciate your reaction, Jim. Decoration, no. I would never do anything just for adornment. How words look, alone and together, on a page matters to poets. For this one, the shape as a whole expressed, along with the content, that I am MORE than the parts I have played, and that like the run of syncopation or the delicate fall of blossoms I was filling out, in motion. It was the most license I had given myself to play with the form among all my poems, a visual and literal expression of freedom. Running down straight lines would’ve felt confining for this piece. Too static. I did go a bit overboard (I know you think I did so for sure) and upon my husband’s mumbling, pieced together that some places were too distracting so I ironed them out. Thank you for your time. I WILL keep your input in mind for the future. Yours is among the all too, too rare less-than-positive reaction I’ve had on the blog and I love the differing take that keeps me on track.

      • When all I get is showered with praise I feel I am being humored or pandered to. I don’t do that. There is great talent in both you and your son, but no one is perfect. If I comment it will likely be a “mixed blessing”, but it is done out of admiration and respect or I would not bother.

    • And I found a tender, reflective soul. =) Thank you much for the hearty support and follow. I don’t take it for granted. I’m glad you enjoy yourself here. Blessings. Diana

      PS I decided to turn the My Articles into a My Music page. Soon. =)

  8. G Major 7th – my favorite for life’s improvisations, though I am filled with false dominants that rarely resolve.

    I place your poem in the top 10 of those I’ve read thus far here on WP.

    —Chagall

    • Awww Carlos. Talk about feeling honored. (I hold high standards for poetry on WP, and I must say don’t always meet them myself. And the masses seemed to like Part 1 better.) We do have chords that don’t resolve easily in our living. What instrument do you play, my friend? And thank you so much for the faithful support I have not taken for granted. Diana

  9. It certainly looks like you hit the spot with these … look at all the people who have liked it! And no wonder, that’s all I can add. Oh, except that I do too – very much indeed!

  10. Your writing, your craft of words are entrancingly beautiful, haunting even. What an amazing gift you are with your offering of words that enchant, that rouse us from our trance, shake us loose from our distractions for one singular, pin-pointed moment of amazement and awe.

    Thank you for visiting my blog. I am honored. You hold a sacred gift that the world very much needs.

  11. You are so beautiful both inside and out! I really appreciated the poetry and found it moving, touching and very intimate. I thank you for sharing so personally and allowing us to enjoy! Thank you again, claudy

  12. I like this, and part 1, which I have just found. Especially this:
    i don’t need self-esteem
    i know Whose i am
    but God doesn’t have twins and
    He doesn’t make machines
    we are each His masterpiece
    I think that self esteem is something that people envy in others, when it hasn’t reached the level of conceit.

    • Quite like your take on self-esteem. Many will disagree, but I have issues with this concept. I think we’re already full of ourselves. And poor self-image is an inverted outworking of this self-involvement. Thx.

      Diana

  13. Diana, Thank you for this luscious, at times, poignant, poem. I especially love the painterly and sensuous imagery-scent, color, sound, touch–and your honesty. Ah, yes…waiting….Masterful. xo

  14. Very well written Diana. Love the formatting – it says so much. I’ve never been a biiological parent, so although I can empathize, I really haven’t experienced that whch you wrote. It was eye-opening.

    Thank you.

    • You really are one of the sweetest, most genuine people I have met – on and off the blog, Mickey. So humble. Thanks so much for your time and I’m so glad it resonated with you.

      Love,
      D.

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