My mother birthed me in a wild, abandoned place amidst acres of thick silence. In Spring, pink patches and white stood out on the hills, foreign flags in all our green, marking abandoned mission orchards; cherry trees, pears, apples, peaches. Raspberry and blackberry thickets, clumps of strawberries, spread along creek flats through plantings of potatoes, puha, corn. Missionaries came, and changed us.
Our people learned to sing their songs, eat their food, dress their way, be grateful, learn the new language, but secretly they mourned. Depression followed. Lethargy. Alcohol. My father battled these through all his life. Then he died.
‘It’s not my responsibility’ I tell him. ‘Stay out of my moe’ I tell him.
He says our home is Waikato, where the first prophet-warriors spoke. He says we resisted their god, opposed their theft of our lands; their army came. We buried our gods in our swamps, as always before battle.
The settlers won; they drove us away. We left our gods; they rejected us. Now they want us to return, take back our land, release them.
I haven't travelled there. My father waits. He says our land hungers for me, as it hungers for Spring. He pleads.
Thanks to all who helped.
First draft
My mother birthed me in a wild, abandoned place. Acres of thick silence, in all directions. In Spring, patches of pink and white stand out on the hills like foreign flags in all the green, marking the mission orchards; cherry trees, apples, peaches. Raspberry and blackberry thickets, clumps of strawberries, spread along creek flats through paddocks of potatoes, puha, corn. The missionaries came, and changed us.
Old ways of living destroyed, overcome by loss, the people mourned. Privation followed. Lethargy. Alcohol. My father battled this through all his days. Then he died. ‘It’s not my responsibility’ I tell him. ‘Stay out of my moe’ I tell him.
He says my home is Waikato. When first prophet-warriors spoke even the ancestors changed sides and everything became confusion.
I haven't travelled there. He waits. He says my land hungers for me, as it hungers for Spring. He pleads.
(moe - Maori for dreams)
puha - native green vegetable, like dandelion greens
Hey just mercedes,
I really enjoyed this poem. Your language use is just wonderful in spots, and I think you deliver an important message here. My main suggestions would be to just explore some of your images and ideas more. I'll explain more below:
(05-17-2017, 07:25 AM)just mercedes Wrote: My mother birthed me in a wild, abandoned place. Acres of thick silence, in all directions. In Spring, -This line is wonderful. "Acres of thick silence" is such a lonely beautiful image. The enjambment of "In Spring" also adds stress to an important word (Spring) in terms of the overall meaning of this poem. patches of pink and white stand out on the hills like foreign flags in all the green, marking the mission-Again, this is great use of enjambment for the simile about the foreign flags. The simile is also great because it reinforces your main idea. orchards; cherry trees, apples, peaches. Raspberry and blackberry thickets, clumps of strawberries, spread along creek flats through paddocks of potatoes, puha, corn. -All of this plant imagery created a wonderful image in my mind. The missionaries came, and changed us. -I love how the entire stanza is so focused on nature and Spring/birth, and then this line just stops it all cold.
Old ways of living destroyed, overcome by loss, -I feel like you could have gone into more detail about what old ways of living were destroyed. I'm just saying this because the first stanza was so strong with detail, that the first line here seems a bit vague. the people mourned. Privation followed. Lethargy. Alcohol. My father battled this through all his days. Then he died. -Did the speaker's father battle lethargy or alcohol or both? ‘It’s not my responsibility’ I tell him. ‘Stay out of my moe’ I tell him.-I like how the speaker tries to avoid any responsibility because it wonderfully contrasts the father battling so hard.
He says my home is Waikato. When first prophet-warriors spoke even the ancestors changed sides and everything became confusion. -I've read this poem many times, and I still don't get the last three lines in this stanza. Is this implying that the speaker is a prophet-warrior? I think this could be explored more, so it is clearer for the reader.
I haven't travelled there. He waits. He says my land hungers for me, as it hungers for Spring. -I like how the poem returns to the idea of Spring because it is so strong with symbolism for rebirth, and I get the feeling that rebirth is a vital in this poem. He pleads. -I love how this line stands out because it is so short. Its length tells us how important it is, and the fact that the poem ends with the speaker's dead father pleading with him/her allows the reader to draw his/her own conclusions about the speaker's next steps.
(moe - Maori for dreams)
puha - native green vegetable, like dandelion greens
I think the first and last stanza are wonderful. However, I think you could expand upon the second and third stanza. There really isn't much wrong with those stanzas, but I would like to see you go into more detail in them.
(05-17-2017, 07:25 AM)just mercedes Wrote: My mother birthed me in a wild, abandoned place. Acres of thick silence, in all directions. In Spring, stubbed rainforest? then the silence is disturbing patches of pink and white stand out on the hills like foreign flags in all the green, marking the mission good metaphor to show the invasion orchards; cherry trees, apples, peaches. Raspberry and blackberry thickets, clumps of strawberries, spread along creek flats through paddocks of potatoes, puha, corn. The missionaries came, and changed us. maybe there´s something i miss but when you write the missionaries came.. haven´t they been there already? (you write of mission orchards 5 lines above).
Old ways of living destroyed, overcome by loss, the people mourned. Privation followed. Lethargy. Alcohol. My father battled this through all his days. Then he died. ‘It’s not my responsibility’ I tell him. ‘Stay out of my moe’ I tell him.
He says my home is Waikato. When first prophet-warriors spoke even the ancestors changed sides and everything became confusion.
I haven't travelled there. He waits. He says my land hungers for me, as it hungers for Spring. He pleads.
(moe - Maori for dreams)
puha - native green vegetable, like dandelion greens
i like the way the stanzas become shorter as what was once home is further deconstructed.
a sad one, home is where the heart is but when the heart is broken or lost..
(05-17-2017, 07:25 AM)just mercedes Wrote: Nice stuff, merc. Not much to pick at so I will probably pick harder at what there is. The pedant in me says stick to the grammar issues but even here I am in famine...the whole thing is nicely blooming and it would seem a shame to trample on the flora. Here goes:
My mother birthed me in a wild, abandoned place.Semi colon here otherwise next line is anti-gravity. Acres of thick silence, in all directions. In Spring, In-in scrapes by but you are better than that with the word things.
" Acres of thick silence in all directions, until Spring spilt loud patches of pink and white on the hills. Like foreign flags on fields of green,
the trees marked out the mission orchards with blossom of cherry, apple and peach"
Excuse this slight re-write. It is mostly to keep the tense of "birthed" away from "...pink and white STAND out" Birthed past, stood past. Your poem.
patches of pink and white stand out on the hills like foreign flags in all the green, marking the mission orchards; cherry trees, apples, peaches. Raspberry and blackberry thickets, clumps of strawberries, spread along creek flats through paddocks of potatoes, puha, corn. I could be wrong...I have not checked...but "paddocks" are exclusivey for the containment of animals, primarily horses. The word is, to me, suspect. If you used the word "plantings" instead, you would emphasise the man-made nature of the terrain...which is what you are about to confirm. The missionaries came, and changed us.
Old ways of living destroyed, overcome by loss,Not a complete sentence. There is a cause-effect which you do not nurture. Begin, then, thus; "With old ways destroyed (......the people mourned)" the people mourned. Privation followed. Lethargy. Alcohol. My father battled this through all his days. Then he died.Easy-peasy narration BUTunrelated "this" nonetheless. Too many choices...was it the privation, the lethargy, the alcohol or all (through these?) that did for him? Just restructure. Your poem. ‘It’s not my responsibility’ I tell him. ‘Stay out of my moe’ I tell him.Tell or told. It is a moot point...back to the narrative form, I guess.
He says my home is Waikato. When first prophet-warriors spoke even the ancestors changed sides and everything became confusion.
I haven't travelled there. He waits. He says my land hungers for me, as it hungers for Spring. He pleads.
(moe - Maori for dreams)
puha - native green vegetable, like dandelion greens
Thanks, tectak. Good points. I will address them in revision.
(05-17-2017, 08:41 PM)vagabond Wrote: i like the way the stanzas become shorter as what was once home is further deconstructed.
a sad one, home is where the heart is but when the heart is broken or lost..
Thanks for your read and comment, vag. Will revise soon.
Hey just mercedes,
I like how you revised poem. Your poem deals with an important concept (Post-Colonialism), and I think you dealt with it in an interesting way. Nice work, and I really dig it
(05-20-2017, 01:11 PM)Richard Wrote: Hey just mercedes,
I like how you revised poem. Your poem deals with an important concept (Post-Colonialism), and I think you dealt with it in an interesting way. Nice work, and I really dig it
Hi just mercedes
I think this is a terrific piece, interesting, readable and with a solid emotional core.
Enjoyed it a lot.
My mother birthed me in a wild, abandoned place
terrific opening amidst acres of thick silence. In Spring, pink patches
I don't think you can be 'amidst' acres, I'd suggest replacing with 'in', gives you something of a rhythm. and white stood out on the hills, foreign flags
I don't think 'pink patches and white' are particularly strong
why not go;
................................................In Spring
foreign flags stood out on the hills in all our green, marking abandoned mission
not sure how you can have 'abandoned mission orchards'
when you end the stanza with 'Missionaries came' orchards; cherry trees, pears, apples, peaches. Raspberry and blackberry thickets, clumps
'clumps' is a bit of an ugly word of strawberries, spread along creek flats through plantings of potatoes, puha, corn. Missionaries came, and changed us.
Our people learned to sing their songs, eat their food, dress their way, be grateful, learn the new language, but secretly they mourned.
I think you could make this stronger with;
Our people learned, ate their food,
wore their clothes,[changed
our ways], sang their songs
[spoke] their language
[while mourning our own].
[Our people] learned
to be grateful
Depression followed. Lethargy. Alcohol.
I do wonder if this needs to be quite so blunt. My father battled these through all his life. Then he died.
Perhaps,
My father [lost battles] all his life,
drink, pride and hope. I tell him ‘It’s not my responsibility’,
then he died
I think you could restructure a bit here;
He says our home is Waikato, where the first prophet-warriors spoke.
‘Stay out of my moe’ I tell him.
He says we resisted their god, opposed their theft of our lands;
[denied their (claims?)...]
[but] their army came,
[and] we buried our gods in our swamps, as [we] always [did] before battle.
‘Stay out of my moe’ I tell him.
He says our home is Waikato, where
(don't know if this works for you, but the repetition helps, I think) The settlers won; [where] they drove us away, [where] We left our gods; [where] they rejected us. [where] Now they want us to return,
[to] release them
[to] take back our land,
‘Stay out of my moe’ I tell him.
I haven't travelled there.[home], He says our land hungers for me, as it hungers for Spring. He pleads.
