Saturday, April 18, 2009

Gleaners

From my window

I watch her work,

muttering as she stoops

and rises, rises and stoops,

methodically, relentlessly,

bending and pulling,

filling her bags slowly

in the weak morning sun.

Through crumpled cans,

old papers streaming ink,

thick bricks of refuse,

covered with a clotted

melt of cream, she threshes

until finally she discovers,

imprinted with deliverance,

her happiness.

Against the pane,

my lips intone with hers

as we breathe out

the mantra of the poor

and offer up our thanks

for daily bread.


35 comments:

  1. I'm reminded of 'Tess of the D'urbervilles', but in a city-centre sort of context. Very nice.

    Kat

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  2. Very nice imagery here!!! Well-written!!!

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  3. Hmmmmm... My heart surged forward with that.

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  4. Wonderful imagery....I walked with her and said those prayers of need
    Love your work Ms. Karen
    Linda

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  5. After Lift Off

    More than glass between
    my shadow and yours, gleaning
    as we do, distant
    worlds with the cold void
    that beckons the last breath out,
    no inhaling left,
    not after lift off,
    not after giving notice
    of our departure.

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  6. Kat - Thanks, as always, for reading and for your comments. Tess - I can see that.

    Bros - Thanks for your positive comments and for stopping by.

    Christine - Thanks for that, and welcome home! I'll have to come by to see how the roadtrip went for you.

    Linda - I think with your empathetic soul, you would walk with her. Thank you for saying that.

    Christopher - "distant worlds with the cold void that beckons the last breath out" and all the rest - this is unbelievably good. The last three lines are perfect.

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  7. Sort of an urban Ruth. This is lovely.

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  8. Very nicely written Karen.

    "until finally she discovers,
    imprinted with deliverance,
    her happiness. "

    Loved it!

    Can tell it comes straight from the heart... as is the case with most of your posts.

    Thats what makes it such a wonderful experience to read them.

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  9. Oh how lovely is this! Sweet writing, Karen!

    you have the soul of a storyteller!
    ~Calli

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  10. Mairi - What a lovely comparison and more proof of the old adage about kindness to strangers. They may be angels among us. Thank you for making that connection.

    Aniket - You've picked my favorite lines and those around which the poem was composed. I struggled with telling what that deliverance actually was, but decided that would change the whole thing. Thank you for your kind words.

    Calli - The soul of a storyteller! What a very nice thing to say. Thank you so.

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  11. I started loving Millet when I found out that Vincent loved his work. I think it is wonderful that the workers would not clean all the way around the edges of the fields, so that the poor could feed themselves off of what remained.

    Your poem is so well structured - great line breaks.

    I especially love these lines:
    as we breathe out
    the mantra of the poor
    and offer up our thanks
    for daily bread

    So powerful and meaningful. Skillfully wrought and intelligently formed.

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  12. That connection to Earth and labor is getting lost. We seem to be weaving an ever-deeper illusion.

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  13. K. - I didn't know that about the gleaners, leaving food for the poor, but man does exhibit his humanity in little acts of kindness. "The poor you will always have with you..." and, "Whatsoever you do to one of these least ones..." -- good things for us to recall, n'est-ce pas?

    "The Gleaners" is one of the earliest works I recall, hanging in my elementary school classroom along with "Christina's World." Good company, huh - Vincent and us!

    Thanks for your nice words. You lift me up.

    Jason - Unfortunately; yes, unfortunately, and the effects of the disconnect reach farther than we can yet understand.

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  14. Very moving. The intimate imagery is entirely appropriate.

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  15. I love it, love it, love it. You are perfecting the craft, dear Karen. Keep it up!! What beautiful work you are doing. That's not to belittle anything you've posted in the past, though. I just get excited every time I come for a visit:)

    My first impression is what a wonderful job you've done with the rhythm in the beginning. There is a slow start in the first two lines, and then:

    "muttering as she stoops
    and rises, rises and stoops,
    methodically, relentlessly,
    bending and pulling,
    filling her bags slowly
    in the weak morning sun."

    I am literally rising and stooping with her as she bends. Excellent way to utilize rhythm! And then I am struck with the beautiful details, the music of the language as in phrases like "thick bricks of refuse." YES!

    Excuse me for being such a techno geek, but I love the nuts and bolts of what you have done. The nuts and bolts are what makes the story so strong. Of course, the theme also hits straight at my heart. You have painted a beautiful and poignant portrait. The ending is perfect. You have made me extra thankful for my bread this morning.

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  16. Dave - Thank you for that.

    Julie - I appreciate the discussion of the "nuts and bolts," as I'm trying to build a poet here! LOL

    One of the things I'm learning as I write is that the things I leave out may be more important than those I include. I often strike so much that the finished product little resembles the original. Very seldom have I been able to write and have it flow easily -- just a couple of times, and that felt like magic. Most of the time, I labor. I become obsessed with the writing - the words, the rhythm, the imagery, the story or feeling.
    How does the process work for you? I often wonder about the process for others.

    Thank you, seriously, for your kind, kind, generous praise. Your comments came just at a moment when I was doubting whether I should be doing this. Your words lift me up and make me think maybe I can continue.

    For that, I am so grateful.

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  17. You might labor for your poems, Karen, but they deliver such happiness for us all. I really am in awe of your craft here. You always demonstrate a great marriage of form and content, and this is no exception. Reading feels like seeing, and seeing touches experience.

    My favorite line was the lips intoning against the pane of glass. The distance between the two is lost. They share a common hunger, and a deep and humble gratitude.

    Beautiful and true, as always, Karen.

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  18. The fact that you fret over each turn of a phrase only validates your talent all the more. You are a gifted poet!

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  19. oh, and i love the parallels you've made in this poem - the narrator looks into the window of the gleaner's soul. Touching.

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  20. do you know, i could feel the rhythm of the lady as she worked in the lines of the poem, smooth without seeming effortless.
    and i loved the image of the intoning lips ...

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  21. thx karen, strong pull on heartstrings...

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  22. i'm just kind of nodding my head to what has already been said - i think what you left out in "imprinted with deliverance,/her happiness" is a gift to the reader - as is where you move this from being an observation to a connection - this hits me very hard, closer to home than i'd like it to be.

    and i do hope you continue - i think it's doubt that drives the best development (or so i tell myself when i am in its shadow)

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  23. Beautiful and a perfect ending. An observation but a reminder, too. There has been so much forgetting. But when I read your poetry, I read the words of one who remembers.

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  24. Sarah - You have gone to the heart of this - the merging of the speaker and the gleaner. Thank you for your kind words about content and form. I appreciate your feedback and continued reading.

    Jana - Thank you for both the observation and the compliment. Knowing that you spend your life with literature makes my appreciation of your comments even greater.

    little girl - I'm glad those words worked to mimic the motion of the woman, and I thank you for your comments.

    laughingwolf - Hello! I'm glad you felt that tug! Thanks for stopping by.

    joaquin - When writing amuses us but doesn't really hit us, it's just writing. Even though it saddens me to know that this hits you closely, it gratifies me to know that words can connect us in that way.

    Thanks for your encouragement. I judge myself harshly, I know, but the last thing I want to do is to be a bad writer. I'd rather not be a writer at all. I do appreciate your words, and I will remind myself that I am not alone in the shadows.

    Jennifer - Welcome back! I hope the visit is over and you are able to reclaim your time!
    Thanks for seeing this as a reminder. That's such a nice thing to say.

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  25. Karen, I'm so sorry that I am late, I've been off the computer as much as possible. I love the way you set the beginning as the watcher, and how you become so involved with her that your lips are intoning together. It is so evocative of deep compassion. I also adored the rhythm and flow. Just beautiful my friend. You just keep getting better and better.

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  26. At first the picture confused me, I thought it was about a woman working on a field - but not everyone's blessed enough to have a land of her/his own to work on. Sometimes daily bread, whatever it may be, comes from quite a different place. This is so well captured here. I love the rhytm of the poem, too.

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  27. Cat - I'm glad to see you, no matter when! I hope you are recovering from your long stints on the computer. You understand this perfectly -- my guess is that your deep compassion allows you to enter into the relationship, as well. Thank you for your comments and support.

    SzelsoFa - Welcome to Keeping Secrets! You know, I struggled with what sort of picture to use, and I nearly used one of a homeless woman, but then I thought that this famous picture of a gleaner might illustrate just what you've said and also that we glean where we can. Thank you for coming by and commenting.

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  28. Hi Karen - Just wanted to say, I'm pulling back a bit on the blogging - trying to do some other things, but be assured I will always find my way around to you.

    Kat

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  29. Kat - I understand about the pulling back. I'll look forward to seeing you here and on your blogs, too, when you do post.

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  30. Hi, Karen. I was looking around to see what's new and saw your comment. Yes, of course you can continue. Never stop! You're doing a wonderful job.

    My creative process is a lot like yours. Often it's painful. Some of my poems are fun to write and lighthearted...even downright silly, but I also keep agonizing over those. So you're not alone!

    I'm so glad you're writing. You really are doing excellent work. Have a beautiful weekend:)

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  31. Thanks, Julie. Eighty-five in the shade this weekend -- ah, heaven!

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  32. Hi Karen,
    I've been trying to post comments on your blog for many days now, with no success whatsoever. For some reason this commenting form doesn't work in IExplorer, or at least not from where I work...
    Anyway, I'm finally "in" and let me just tell you that I love this poem (like all your others!)
    Oh, the mantra of the poor… What a dark, stern rhythm this poem has, touching directly our souls…
    Vesper xoxoxo

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  33. Vesper - I'm sorry you had such trouble with blogger! I couldn't even access this for a day or so. I'm glad you persevered, though, and I'm grateful for your appreciation of the sentiment of this. I think you have a very kind heart!

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  34. this one struck deep..you are an amazing writer....jorc

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  35. Thank you, Jorc! I'm glad you are here, and I appreciate the kind words.

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