Mother Dies

Gold cherry
Poem of the week

By onemorething

Thu, 01 Jun 2023
  • 1539 reads
20 comments
 

Mother Dies is another name for cow parsley - very possibly to dissuade children from picking it as it looks very like hemlock. 
 

Death grows everywhere --

hemlock in the midst of cow parsley,

both wild moons scattered, ghosts 

of verges, white whisperers 

of the riverbank, flourishing

beside the dead. 
 

I said, do not return, rest,

for here mother died where she gathered

armfuls of starlight and poison;

I could not say if it was accidental.

 

We could ask ourselves and 

deliberate, 

and dwell amongst the questions --

the dark earth, the ever-hungry worm,

or we could call it cow parsley

and moonshine and tell each other

that it was just a mistake.

 

Despite it all, let us be,

let us have now, 

death is for another day, 

tomorrow,

a promise

that will always be kept.

 

Image is of hemlock and is in the public domain. 

Certificate 15
Poem
Unclassified

Comments

Submitted by Jane Hyphen on

I've never heard it called this, how interesting. I love the rather dark metaphors, all entwined with nature in this magical piece.

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Ah thank you Jane, no doubt it needs some work, but I'm just ecstatic to have broken my procrastinating, preoccupied, inattentive dearth! Such a relief. 

 

Submitted by Kris on

I dont even know how to compliment that....

But I can see it, smell it, feel it in legend, story & fact & folklore= simple plant*

 The (1) has done it again* yes

 

Submitted by onemorething on

My writing ego needed your comment, thank you! :)

 

Submitted by lenchenelf on

"...dwell amongst the questions"

That's what poets do, if we knew the answers we wouldn't be writing in this genre :)

So good!

Best as ever

Lena xxx

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Love the chef's kiss! x and yes, what would we do without questions! Thanks for reading it L xx

 

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

I am also very glad you've posted something new onemore, and I'd never heard the name either. Wonderfully ambiguous - I will be revisiting this later for rereading

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Thanks insert, was good to finish something. Sort of draws a circle round something and feels better. x

 

Submitted by marandina on

"...armfuls of starlight and poison..."

 

Yes, I guess death is a promise that is always kept. Maybe a few more poems beforehand, though. Beautiful words couched in melancholy. Keep 'em coming, Rachel :) 

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Thanks Paul, yes a promise that will always be kept, but hoping too that its fulfilment is some way off! Thanks for reading it. x

 

Submitted by Ewan on

 Congratulations. Up to your usual high standard.

Please share and/or retweet readers.

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by onemorething on

Thanks so much, Ewan. Chuffed. x

 

Submitted by Ewan on

 
Congratulations, this is today's pick of the day, well done!

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by onemorething on

Thank you! Lovely start to the weekend! x

 

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

Congratulations onemore - so pleased to see this was chosen!

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Thank you! x

 

Submitted by celticman on

cow parsley but not for cows. existential poetry at its best. 

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Thanks CM, that's very kind. x

 

Submitted by D Marie on

I like the meloncholy tone to your poem, and the last lines made me smile :) 

It does feel as if something is missing when you can't write, you wonder if it will come back. Writing is a strange process eh. 

 

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

Though they can look entrancing leggily waving on the verges obscuring visibility, they never look attractive for picking, nor easily picked, but good to dissuade it anyway I suppose. I remember I think a concern about giant hogweed being picked to make whistles, and that was very dangerous. Rhiannon