The Homeplace (book review)

The Homeplace (book review)

Book review:

The Homeplace

 

by Marilyn Nelson Waniek (b.1946)

Prize-winning American poet

Baton Rouge, LA: Louisiana State University Press, 1990

 

Thinking about writing this review of The Homeplace re-boots the cold explosion in my self.

Honestly, there was turmoil in this reading.

Marilyn Nelson Waniek is a respected black poet. I’m an old white guy who writes and cares about poetry.

I don’t read much poetry by other writers that appeals to me. I know this doesn’t make me special. I think it’s an ordinary experience.

When I say much of Marilyn Nelson’s work doesn’t appeal to me, that doesn’t signify much of anything out of the ordinary.

When I say that some of poems wrap their hands around my throat and squeeze directly through to my soul, I mean exactly what those words mean.

It’s not “black poetry,” let’s get that straight. That term necessarily implies that there is “white poetry.” I think there are ways to characterize poetry, but the demeaning simplicity of “black poetry” or “white poetry” isn’t acceptable. I think it’s not possible. Poetry is personal, and it doesn’t have a skin color.

Here’s an excerpt from The Homeplace: these are words from “Chosen,” an understated account of a white Southern master and Diverne, a young black woman who is his slave, and Pomp, their son.

 

“Diverne wanted to die, that August night

his face hung over hers, a sweating moon.

She wished so hard, she killed part of her heart

…And the man who came

out of a twelve-room house and ran to her

close shack across three yards that night, to leap

onto her cornshuck pallet. Pomp was their

share of the future. And it wasn’t rape.

In spite of her raw terror. And his whip.”

 

I’d like to say I think I want to walk a mile in Marilyn Nelson’s shoes.

Maybe I was able to trudge a few steps when I read her poems.

*   *   *   *

Walking on the beach is so personal

Do you remember?…”Take your time,” my poem

click here

 

Book review. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2017 All rights reserved.

Writing Rainbows: Poems for Grown-Ups with 59 free verse and haiku poems,

and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)

and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

 

 

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Impedimenta

Impedimenta

Impedimenta

 

I open my mind to poetic whimsies,

   but the clatter of the TV voices

   makes it hard to listen to

   the other spirits who fill the ether,

      who strive to call, each to each,

         and to me.

 

I open my eyes to new vistas

beyond my familiar view,

   but the dervish clutter of dancing logos

   and streaming headlines

   and indulgently obscure commercial images

   makes it hard to clearly see

   the protean scenes

   that may ripen my life.

 

The beguiling screen fades to dark.

 

I breathe in, deeply….

I’m wide open.

 

August 23, 2016

Published February 2017 in my first collection, Writing Rainbows: Poems for Grown-Ups

(I was trying to write in a waiting room, where I couldn’t find a seat that wasn’t facing a TV screen. Dante Alighieri never imagined this particular hell…)

 

My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2017 All rights reserved.

A poem about the right thing

…and the lesser incarnation…

“Vanity”

click here

Above all: Poems of dawn and more with 73 free verse poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

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A ramble on the sand…

A ramble on the sand…

Take your time

 

Do you remember that tender time

when your little feet stumbled as you walked the sand,

   and you leaned against the sea breeze to stay upright

   as you imagined you would take the ocean in your stride?

 

September 18, 2015

Published February 2017 in my first collection, Writing Rainbows: Poems for Grown-Ups

I scribbled this poem at high tide on First Encounter Beach in Eastham, MA, on Cape Cod. The child was doing a test drive on little legs without Mom or Dad tagging along. The youngster looked curious, scanning the far horizon, taking a few more steps…the breeze was steady. I couldn’t remember when I took a ramble like that at the shore. I’m pretty sure I did it.

 

My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2017 All rights reserved.

Book review: “The Gentle Boy”

The Puritans had a dark side…

by Nathaniel Hawthorne

click here

Above all: Poems of dawn and more with 73 free verse poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

 

 

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