May 9, 2008...10:54 pm
When mama ain’t happy
when mama ain’t happy
When she unhinged the door
her children narrowed their eyes
and girded themselves for war.
But her new tactic surprised
even them. She unscrewed her head,
and then her neck, propped a hockey puck
on a plastic bottle instead.
Her victory would be a slam dunk–
she drilled holes in the puck to see
her sons scurry behind chairs,
wrists angled. They flung a few Frisbees
that she batted out of the air.
On a crumpled note she wrote a final bromide:
Do not toy with this mother frankenbride.
***
Friday Five from Poefusion: plastic bottle, hockey puck, dirty handkerchief, crumpled note, unhinged door.
readwritepoem: mothers
I went on a rampage today with my oldest son. Freeboarder ducked his head low over the keyboard (he was online playing WOW, talking on AIM…), lest any of the wrath redirect toward him. Why was I angry at Philosopher? I’ll let you imagine any number of possible scenarios. It’s spring, he’s eighteen, and he has only two weeks left of high school….
Sigh. I went to the pool, swam laps furiously for an hour, and returned calm and contrite. I’m really a very weak mother. Lots of love, little in the way of toughness.
photo credit: stockxchange
24 Comments
May 9, 2008 at 11:46 pm
this was great
as a mother, I can totally relate.
May 10, 2008 at 5:33 am
cool poem, surreally got me,
May 10, 2008 at 7:09 am
I am a principal–have 289 18 year olds, it is spring, they have one more day–I know exactly–enough said.
May 10, 2008 at 8:22 am
cute poem… but i am stuck on the fact that you swam laps for an hour .. holy christmas.. it would have been so much easier to just call him an asshole and be thru with it!!!!LOL… you are something else!!
May 10, 2008 at 9:26 am
Whoa! As a mother “who formerly ate her young” on occasion, I can totally relate.
Especially - “She unscrewed her head, and then her neck, propped a hockey puck on a plastic bottle instead.” - that nasty tight feeling.
Relax, Christine, grade 12 will soon be over! G
May 10, 2008 at 11:30 am
Christine, I love coming over here to see what you write because it always surprises me. I loved this because I am a mother who occasionally loses her grip with her child too. I think its okay to fall apart sometimes as long as we find an outlet that is safe for everyone involved. I can’t believe you swam an hour. You must really be in some good shape. Have a nice weekend, you deserve it.
May 10, 2008 at 11:35 am
G, thanks for the sage look to the future. He’s a good kid, precious, really. I can never stay mad at him for long, not when I see his big black eyes and his freckles, his innocence still on his face.
paisley, swimming is one of my therapies, besides yoga and talk therapy, medication and writing. God, so many things needed just to keep me waking up and getting out of bed each day! I did yell at the boy, but as I explained to G, I can’t sustain self-rightous anger very long.
May 10, 2008 at 2:21 pm
Very sci-fi and funny. But since right now I am obsessed with the use of sounds and meter in poetry, I am very interested in some of the patterns that hold this free verse together. I like the occasional rhyming in the opening three lines and the last two, as well as air and chairs and head and instead. I like the alternating lines of end-stopping and enjambment. That variation gave the poem Frankenlife. I’m starting to notice how much you use variations on internal rhyming, alliteration, sound and meter and it’s a whole other level of appreciation your writing.
May 10, 2008 at 4:47 pm
you know what, gloria? I left out a line! Maybe it was a mistake, or maybe it was that I couldn’t think of another rhyme for puck besides…. just kidding. I should fix it! I’m glad you paid such close attention, closer than I did!
May 11, 2008 at 10:02 am
I liked the poem a lot, the pic goes wonderfully well with it!
And you have a pool???
May 11, 2008 at 10:54 am
Nikkil, no way! I had to get in my car and drive two and a half miles to the local YMCA. I also work there, teaching yoga classes. I don’t think I’d want my own pool, unless I had someone to take care of it forme. I’m not willing to give up the time reading and writing that it would take to maintain it.
May 11, 2008 at 5:06 pm
I’m out of school on the 18th of June.
The mother sounds scary!
You must be scary!
May 11, 2008 at 5:14 pm
LOL, Noah! I guess I’ve had my moments. Probably my kids will need therapy once they hit middle age.
May 11, 2008 at 5:15 pm
I mostly apologise too…….but laps for an hour, that’s amazing.
Neat poem, I know the moment of metamorphosis all too well and the being too forgiving. My littlest boy was having such fun climbing a tree the other day that he couldn’t be bothered to actually get down and go to the loo…….I found him wiping himself with leaves. When I asked him in a very dangerous voice ‘what kind of creatures poos in trees’ he missed the anger, looked thoughtful and said I dunno, maybe an ant………you need a lot of patience in this job, and the ability not to pee your pants laughing when they give you answers like that. Happy mother’s day, you.
May 11, 2008 at 5:28 pm
OMG, jo, what a hilarious story! Can you imagine, walking along, when a human turd suddenly drops from the tree above you? Such a little boy thing to do.
I have plenty of poop stories, but I’m not sure if they’ll ever show up in poems. Except I did recently write about pigeon poop.
May 12, 2008 at 6:26 am
I love the surrealism in this, excellent
May 12, 2008 at 11:40 am
I would be pretty damned scared myslef with the whole popping off of the head and the plasitc bottle and hocky puck stuff going on…
yea, pretty damned freaked out
May 12, 2008 at 12:57 pm
Wow, very creative! It’s great to read poetry like this when most are sentimental or grateful (which is wonderful don’t get me wrong!) on this holiday.
Contrast is good!
May 12, 2008 at 12:59 pm
Oops, wrong website given above in my comment!
May 12, 2008 at 5:38 pm
There’s a lot of humour in this, to me. A relaxed way that is so endearing. It speaks of a good relationship.
May 13, 2008 at 2:08 am
last day of school here at my college…thankfully!
one of my lowest days as a mom must have been when, frustrated profoundly with his 4 year old misbehavior, i took a plate from the cupboard and smashed it on the ground into a million pieces. got his attention.
May 13, 2008 at 10:21 am
Wicked good, C! Loved this encounter with an energy any mother knows…starts at the bottom of the earth and explodes out of you with more force than you can imagine…great posting.
May 13, 2008 at 11:14 pm
I love it! As a teacher, what more can I say?!
May 17, 2008 at 9:13 am
I really enjoy the surrealist edge to this piece… and it’s always wonderful to read a piece on mothering that has all the darkness of the reality, that avoids cloying sentimentality. It ain’t all kisses, milk and cookies!
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