My south - Shakespeare's Monkeys

my south

my south

my south has pulled me
slowly, often
with an undertow grip,
its siren gullsongs
have lured 
my ancestral fates
to its shores 
(beaches of myrtle
heads of hilton, nag)
     before
           my conception

my south has called me
     called me
called me through blue 
ridged echoes, 
across the new 
river gorge, whispering
greyfog lullabys
     throughout

my south has tempted,
enticed me to eden,
offered my chilled core 
maybright sunbeams 
in november, september's 
crisp hope in exchange 
     for
          january

my south has wooed me
with bouquets of trillium, 
oconee bells, smooth false
foxglove, chicory, charmed
me with its tongue, with
its sweet-as-tea words,
warm, relaxed,
     laced
          with sugar

my south has embraced me
      quietly, gently,
under clear starlittered
skies and wool blankets
amid mountains, under
sanddusted piers lapped
by seafoam, under 
green canopies on beds
of pinestraw and 
has kissed me
     in
       consummation.

included in Shakespeare's Monkey Revue - vol.1, issue 1

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Comments

Leanne -

I don't know whether I've read this before or it just feels so familiar because it works instantly. I love the way this looks on the page, like little post-it notes stuck on the fridge. Your use of kenning really takes this to a deeper narrative level -- starlittered, sanddusted -- words that seem just right.

I do get a wonderful image from this but I think I'm missing the complete picture through absolutely no fault of yours, it's just that I can't quite grasp some of your references. Cultural differences and all. I mean, our seasons are backwards! "Blue ridged echoes" sends me straight to "Country Roads" and I don't know if that's what you've intended.

Your reading starts of a little hesitant (don't you feel like a bit of a moron talking to yourself?) but it definitely picks up as you get inside the poem. It just shows that the best poetry works on paper and aloud.

Alcuin of York -
Your breaks are unusual. I sense a consistency there, but haven’t figured out the “code”.
“Sweet-as-tea words” indeed! This poem is filled with them. The South has gotten some bad press in the past – much of it well-deserved – but the one area they can forever tout is their way with words. You have obviously inherited that cultural ethos. Its echoes continue to sing sing sing through you.
Let me guess: Tennessee?
Nice write!
Alcuin

Julie -

Leanne: You may have read this before; it's almost 3 years old. I had it posted on pathetic for a while, but I think that's it.

The "post-it" thing is something the editor did when I pasted it, I can't take credit for that, except to say I was too lazy to change it.

While I didn't intend to bring "Country Roads" to mind, I don't have a problem with the allusion, since Mr. Denver and I are essentially talking about the same thing.

Finally, the "hesitation" you sensedmade me laugh: it's more likely that you heard me consciously slow my reading and then forget. That, or frustration with having to read it a dozen times before I could get the mic to cooperate.

Alcuin: When you figure out how my line breaks work let me know. Most of the time I can't really give a "why" for them, besides the fact that they just feel right to me.

As for the "cultural ethos" you mention, that is so much of what this piece is about, but maybe not in the way you think: I am a "northerner" by birth, but a southerner by choice, I guess. I love my home in PA, but I have never been happier or felt more at home than I am now in the Carolinas. But in a round about way, you're right on target about Tennessee: a big chunk of my ancestry lived there (and lots of my distant cousins still do)!

Thank you to you both for your feedback and kind words!