Dirty Laundry

[Delta40]

Washboard lies
wakeful nights
all that scrubbing
like a fat irish woman
whose thick arms have
crushed child after child
against her breast.
Would that her pudgy hands
plunge into such soapy untruths,
the bubbles resting on her brow
under a morning sun and
a long lost song
till she finally wrings out
the mighty cups
where they swing so free
to drip dry on the family tree
and future stains kneel
beneath them
their mouths wide open.

[zoolane]

not sure but can see irish woman. Great pictures in my mind.

[firefangled]

Probably more truth that we would care to raise against the myth. A powerful portrait, Delta. This is not the language of Sharon Olds, but it is in her realm of perception: tell it like it really is. Surprisingly, when this is done, it leaves the reader unable to pass judgement one way or the other, because the woman you present is all of us at one point or another.

One of your best, I think. I'm taking it right to the "hall of fame" :)

[Delta40]

thank you Zoo & FF

[zoolane]

FF? I can see washing women doing washing and later on in the day breast feeding her child.

[Haunted]

Very strong metaphor, Delta, probably your greatest strength. Those family lies (and secrets) can stretch back generations, and to get rid of them necessitates laborous washing, a perfect metaphor for the poem. "Would that her pudgy hands / plunge into such soapy untruths" and "to drip dry on the family tree" are excellent lines. The "irish" completes the personalization although it speaks true for any ethnicity — just about any family with its own dirty laundry.

[firefangled]

FF? I can see washing women doing washing and later on in the day breast feeding her child.

Zoo, maybe I read too much into this. I am guilty of doing that, but there seemed to be more to it that just laundry and breast feeding.

[Delta40]

Zoo, maybe I read too much into this. I am guilty of doing that, but there seemed to be more to it that just laundry and breast feeding.

No you were right on the money FF.

[zoolane]

Firstly maybe I only saw basic images, most of the time I have readed few times to get point so I am sorry. I do understand that poem is about a family history of washing board is passes from Irish woman to daughter. Also the link between washing your dirty lining public for all see. The untruths can lay within washing board silencely. As she wring out the water which she try to decide what next.

[Caliode]

Washboard lies
wakeful nights
all that scrubbing
like a fat irish woman
whose thick arms have
crushed child after child
against her breast.
Would that her pudgy hands
plunge into such soapy untruths,
the bubbles resting on her brow
under a morning sun and
a long lost song
till she finally wrings out
the mighty cups
where they swing so free
to drip dry on the family tree
and future stains kneel
beneath them
their mouths wide open.

Before looking at the meaning of the poem, it might be helpful to consider its construction. The first thing one notices is almost the complete lack of punctuation. This is either carelessness or artifice. Either way it makes it difficult for the reader to make sense of what is being said.

The first sentence links washboards and lies. There are different meanings for washboards - one of which is as an instrument used in skiffle groups. It also describes the kind of music played by those groups. I therefore read this as a critique on this music, which it implies it is false. Wakeful nights seems odd and doesn't fit - unless because of the noise. The poem then explores other meanings of the opening phrase, and we are introduced to fat woman who is Irish for some reason (fecundity? - lack of birth control? Catholic?) and a washer woman, who seems to spend her time smothering infants as an act of misplaced maternal affection.

So, we have a specific genre of music, an Irish washerwoman and babies. I'm somehow lost.

The second sentence begins with an injunction, which teeters on the subjunctive. Is the poet asking that her fat hand plunge or is he or she wishing it? Why would untruths be soapy? Soap cleanses which is the opposite of lying.

We now pause for a comma - presumably to enable the reader to catch their breath and assemble their thoughts after this assault on logic.

The sentence burbles on regardless. I can see why bubbles rest on the washerwoman's brow, drying under the morning sun, but what has a long lost song got to do with anything? or is an unconscious echo of a male child?

Our washerwoman has been washing underclothes it would appear - or what else are we to make of "mighty cups"? Would you really wring out a bra? These now swing on the washing line dripping on some genealogical chart.

"Future stains" is baffling - are these more children? And why are they drinking dirty washing water?

This is the kind of thing which gives obscurity a bad name.

Simply lumping discordant images together is not a good thing, nor is trying to unify them by violently wrenching them together with a sort of theme prompted by the double meanings carried in the title.

Some good advice would be to write out the sense of the poem in a few sentences, before you create your deathless verse. Inspiration and cleverness with different ideas will not excuse sloppy thinking and poor writing.

[hallaig]

Get the general thrust and think breast feeding image very powerful, but there's a bit lack of focus and you lose control of the washer woman image? No sure why she has pudgy arms, why the suds need to be on her brow, why there's a morning sun etc

[Delta40]

Lol. Caliode thanks for your feedback. I'm just so envious that I didn't come up with the original and clever idea of dismounting a horse, an erect penis, a cry in the woods. We can't all be naturally gifted like you.

Hallaig - This was off the cuff pure imagery and setting. thanks for your review.

[Caliode]

[QUOTE=Delta40;1198834]Lol. Caliode thanks for your feedback. I'm just so envious that I didn't come up with the original and clever idea of dismounting a horse, an erect penis, a cry in the woods. We can't all be naturally gifted like you.

Bizarre and somewhat childish that you are discussing my poetry rather than yours, which is the subject of this thread. What have natural gifts to do with anything?

Or are you disturbed by honest analysis?

[firefangled]

Before looking at the meaning of the poem, it might be helpful to consider its construction. The first thing one notices is almost the complete lack of punctuation. This is either carelessness or artifice. Either way it makes it difficult for the reader to make sense of what is being said.

The first sentence links washboards and lies. There are different meanings for washboards - one of which is as an instrument used in skiffle groups. It also describes the kind of music played by those groups. I therefore read this as a critique on this music, which it implies it is false. Wakeful nights seems odd and doesn't fit - unless because of the noise. The poem then explores other meanings of the opening phrase, and we are introduced to fat woman who is Irish for some reason (fecundity? - lack of birth control? Catholic?) and a washer woman, who seems to spend her time smothering infants as an act of misplaced maternal affection.

So, we have a specific genre of music, an Irish washerwoman and babies. I'm somehow lost.

The second sentence begins with an injunction, which teeters on the subjunctive. Is the poet asking that her fat hand plunge or is he or she wishing it? Why would untruths be soapy? Soap cleanses which is the opposite of lying.

We now pause for a comma - presumably to enable the reader to catch their breath and assemble their thoughts after this assault on logic.

The sentence burbles on regardless. I can see why bubbles rest on the washerwoman's brow, drying under the morning sun, but what has a long lost song got to do with anything? or is an unconscious echo of a male child?

Our washerwoman has been washing underclothes it would appear - or what else are we to make of "mighty cups"? Would you really wring out a bra? These now swing on the washing line dripping on some genealogical chart.

"Future stains" is baffling - are these more children? And why are they drinking dirty washing water?

This is the kind of thing which gives obscurity a bad name.

Simply lumping discordant images together is not a good thing, nor is trying to unify them by violently wrenching them together with a sort of theme prompted by the double meanings carried in the title.

Some good advice would be to write out the sense of the poem in a few sentences, before you create your deathless verse. Inspiration and cleverness with different ideas will not excuse sloppy thinking and poor writing.

There's an old adage: Never wrestle in the mud with a pig; you both get dirty and the pig loves it. Nevertheless, Caliode, you need to be informed that you are doing nothing more here than picking fights for attention, that's how ridiculous your comments are. Your comments seem obviously aimed at cutting writers down (not that you've succeeded) in a childish fashion, rather than offering constructive comments. We are all learning here and there are some excellent critics who contribute to that learning. I would say you are borderline offensive, if not assaultive.

[Caliode]

There's an old adage: Never wrestle in the mud with a pig; you both get dirty and the pig loves it. Nevertheless, Caliode, you need to be informed that you are doing nothing more here than picking fights for attention, that's how ridiculous your comments are. Your comments seem obviously aimed at cutting writers down (not that you've succeeded) in a childish fashion, rather than offering constructive comments. We are all learning here and there are some excellent critics who contribute to that learning. I would say you are borderline offensive, if not assaultive.


It would be much better if you discussed what was being said rather than resorting to ad hominem. As you well know attacking the player rather than the ball is generally considered to be not acceptable. It's also used as a smokescreen for a weak point of view.

[Twota]

like a fat irish woman
whose thick arms have
crushed child after child
against her breast.

I hate my grand ma for that D= loved the image tho. xD


Lol. Caliode thanks for your feedback. I'm just so envious that I didn't come up with the original and clever idea of dismounting a horse, an erect penis, a cry in the woods. We can't all be naturally gifted like you.

and that was funny. lololol

[Delta40]

Or are you disturbed by honest analysis?

Your honesty is as relative as mine. I'm not convinced of your motives since you have done little to win friends on other threads except challenge us and tell us how educated you are. You can't write poetry (a tragedy of course) and I can only imagine what sour grapes you may feel towards those who can in ignorance. Does this affect the critiques you give? I honestly don't know.

[Caliode]

Or are you disturbed by honest analysis?

Your honesty is as relative as mine. I'm not convinced of your motives since you have done little to win friends on other threads except challenge us and tell us how educated you are. You can't write poetry (a tragedy of course) and I can only imagine what sour grapes you may feel towards those who can in ignorance. Does this affect the critiques you give? I honestly don't know.

You do make some very odd assumptions.

[Scheherazade]

~

W a r n i n g

Please do not personalise your comments.

Unless you are willing to receive negative as well as positive feedback,

please avoid sharing your work in a public Forum.

Off-topic and/or personal posts will be removed without further notice.

~

[hillwalker]

I gave up commenting on Delta's poetry a long time ago - mainly because she doesn't need me to tell her how good her writing is, but also because I'm sometimes lost for words. So silent admiration seems to be enough.

However, when certain individuals who consider themselves authorities on poetry (yet paint word portraits with the subtlety of a house painter) take it upon themselves to deliberately misread a poem in order to score points it seems to go against the spirit of constructive peer review.

'washboard' - there's a clue in the title so I wasn't picturing Lonnie Donegan's skiffle group

'a fat irish woman' - why does it matter that the character is irish? read on

'breast feeding' I took to be an image for universal motherhood - her breasts milked dry by her children ('family tree')

so is there a political undercurrent here of Mother Ireland and her woes? That's for Delta to decide. A poem that can have more than one interpretation is the mark of a talented writer. I can't say that I found it impenetrably obscure, but then I'm no expert.

Punctuation? Suggesting the lack of it might be carelessness is rather patronising on a literary site - especially as the OP has almost 9000 posts to her credit.

Ok, it could be polished here and there and it's always useful when criticism is focussed on those minor infringements as well as those parts that work well. But to launch a barrage of invective purely in order to restore wounded pride seems more pitiful than constructive.

H

[Caliode]

I suppose it's pointless to point out the irony between the thread development and the title?

But it has made me chuckle.

[Delta40]

I'll chuckle too if it will break the ice...

[deryk]

Inspiration and cleverness with different ideas will not excuse sloppy thinking and poor writing.
What a bizarre attitude for a newcomer to bring to a forum community that thrives on sharing and openness.

Delta, I love how you wrangle new shadowy meanings into these traditional images. Someone else might claim shabby construction, but I think the metaphors are voluminous and profound. This poem has a big, dark heart that runs deep. I'm vexed at whether I've reached the bottom or scratched the surface. There is truth to be had here.

[miyako73]

Caliode did nothing wrong. Attack his analysis or misreading like how Hillwalker did. Do we want a chorus here or varied opinions? Do we want a Hallelujah or a dialogue?

Caliode, you over-interpreted Delta's images. Read the text not your subtext.

Ex. "soapy untruths"

my reading is simple: lies piling like bubbles upon bubbles or lies slipping unnoticed and uncorrected.

Restrain your over-reading, so you can appreciate Delta's sparse but deep style.

[Delta40]

I have bipolar and I'm quite manic atm. Usually I just go with the flow - little bursts of creativity spill out along the way and it isn't as though I consider them as great pieces of work. More like an assortment of morsels wrapped in rice paper. Here, try this one with plum sauce. This one with hot chilli... There's always some loose bits fall out and the tiny plastic tub of sauce never seems to be quite enough to mask the mish mash. Then there is the container they are packaged in. Not hardy enough to stand the scrutiny of a takeaway beating. Still, rice paper is so rubbery, cold and pliable...

Thanks for your reviews.

[miyako73]

Didn't Truman Capote say Jack Kerouac was not a writer but a typist? I'm more inclined to attack his statement and support my rebuttal why Kerouac was a writer than question Capote's arrogance, body of work, and bad mouth.

[Paulclem]

Hi Delta,

I liked the image of the Irish Mother and I thought you developed the image well. A lost song worked for me - from romance to motherhood - and I thought the idea of the family tree was very clever.

I didn't get Caliode's reference to music, but that's perhaps a strength of the poem which can allow different interpretations.

The last image didn't work for me - the stains beneath, but I can see where you're coming from.

On the lack of punctuation, I didn't see that as a problem - licence - and it does leave scope for it to be read in different ways. A lack of punctuation reinquishes a kind of control over the poem to the reader. You're not guided, but you can test it out and see what works.

Overall I thought it a good poem.

[Delta40]

Perhaps future stains pool would be better? My poetry gushes out and has a small window for editing for some odd reason. I can't explain it. Posting on Lit-Net for suggestions therefore is quite important to me.

[miyako73]

Double meanings, simple confusions and abstractions, and seemingly misplaced words and misused images in your poems, to me at least, add textures and layers.

[Delta40]

Double meanings, simple confusions and abstractions, and seemingly misplaced words and misused images in your poems, to me at least, add textures and layers.

I feared I would become invisible through mixed metaphors....

[Paulclem]

Double meanings, simple confusions and abstractions, and seemingly misplaced words and misused images in your poems, to me at least, add textures and layers.

I do agree with this. A poem that you can read, understand and say you've done it is less satisfying than one that is open ended and provokes rethinking and a development of ideas.

Perhaps future stains pool would be better? My poetry gushes out and has a small window for editing for some odd reason. I can't explain it. Posting on Lit-Net for suggestions therefore is quite important to me.

It gushes out in a good way then!!