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This Poem was Submitted By: Mark Andrew Hislop On Date: 2005-05-12 23:58:11 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Sins of the Mother

My Other, I think From first, As if I were another One of your own Unrecallably obscene gestures, I knew to shrink, from you, where others Would rise to applause above their caws Of infant joy. That threw me, To this day. Who snaked into you To bear me? Heedless, you obliged And heaved, And writhed, and moaned While I listened, Suspended dumb, founded now Inside your bilious moat. You did not smile, Eve, That evening I first Was. God had it so, And so marked me With your bloodiness. These are the Generations of Cain. Purely unclean, I need not speak. The righteous know me from a distance And they retreat.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Latorial D. Faison On Date: 2005-06-07 22:28:27
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.91489
This is wild as wild can be Mark, straight from the garden, and I love it. Yet another allegorical piece that takes me back to the garden. What I love most about this one is all of the word play and word phrases that you have displayed throughout this poem. You get raw with Eden, and you tie the first birth into your own birth, another interesting thing about this poem and lots of your poetry. I felt like I was on a roller coaster reading this one enduring bobs, weaves, twists and loops. You take us for a ride, but you make biblical and philosophical analyses that are so profound here. SINS OF THE MOTHER run deep, from Cain to you to me. Great poem. Latorial www.latorialfaison.com

This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-06-03 22:31:51
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.51111
Well, not that I'm a disbeliever in G-d, I do not believe in the whole garden thing...but that's been the story for some 7 M years. Many people do believe it though and that's okay.I've always heard of sins of the father but never the mother. You put a new twist on it. Yah...who snaked into you is a great opening. Do you really believe? And the righteous damn well better retreat! After all, didn't we crawl out of the ocean? cough cough!!? Thanks for your insight. Well done.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-05-30 12:15:04
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Mark: This is going to be a tall assignment for me, requiring setting aside of my personal experience of motherhood and being mothered. As a poem it is like your other more recent works, compellingly powerful. Not easy reading for most, but gut-wrenchingly evocative. Your poem. I may not do it justice, but not from lack of intent. “Sins of the Mother” The title elicits “Sins of the father” and all of the associations. It is startling and begins the work with a fiery, consuming tone. My Other, I think From first, As if I were another One of your own Unrecallably obscene gestures, I knew to shrink, from you, where others Would rise to applause above their caws Of infant joy. That threw me, To this day. The speaker parallels himself with the mother, “My Other” in such a way as to give me the impression that he is roiling with self-loathing. At the moment what occurs to me is Martin Buber’s “I-Thou” as self/creator -- the otherness. This is quite at the opposite end of the spectrum. Nothing is redeeming in the relationship as shown in S1. I’m taking a very deep breath and plunging in – as the territory of this poem is like molten lead to my feet. Emotionally I’m wanting to change it, change the revealed subjective feelings of the speaker/poet. Can’t do that, can’t fix this. Not mine to do anything with whatsoever, except to bear with the poem. The speaker reveals the mother as like the Medussa of Greek mythology, a Gorgon who could turn to stone anyone who looked at her. You are looking at her, and not turned to stone. Nor have we. Who snaked into you (here is a Medussa reference again, as I feel it) To bear me? Heedless, you obliged And heaved, And writhed, and moaned While I listened, Suspended dumb, founded now Inside your bilious moat. Pretty tough-going, reading this. I have read it many times over and recoiled. The sheer intensity of it is like a heat-seeking missile. Still, it is excellent as a poem if the job of a poem is to elicit emotions in the reader. That it does for me. As you say, ‘in Spades.’ You did not smile, Eve, That evening I first Was. God had it so, And so marked me With your bloodiness. And so, instead of Perseus, who killed Medussa, we have Cain. The speaker feels his 'mark' -- irony in the words “so marked me” with your name, Mark. I would withdraw, again and again from such intensity but I cannot because I am in it, feeling it in my solar plexus. I draw closer to the speaker, sensing only deeply piercing wounds, and not the unclean. The poem itself seems like a purification, if you will, a release. Perhaps I am (as usual) ahead of myself. These are the Generations of Cain. Purely unclean, I need not speak. The righteous know me from a distance And they retreat. Not being one of the righteous, I have not retreated. I envy your ability to write with such passion, sparing nothing, none within range. This, your very personal statement, yet it can apply to those persons which we may each carry within that can easily consume us. Those (internalized) who have used us or betrayed our trust, whose sins are as identifiable to us as our own. The poem leads this reader down a very dark passage, like the birth canal. I think that as poets we ask this of one another and can do no less. Stay present. I hope I have not stepped too close to the fire’s embers. Extremely powerful, Mark. Peace, at last, Joanne

This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-05-21 13:49:28
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.89474
Hi Mark O pollo....... I don't really buy into Adam and Eve's story but I understand your meaning. Sins of Eve eating the apple. So you/I are the fruit of that evil. Marked with 'bloodiness'. The righteous know me from a distance And they retreat. Interesting how it's personalized. Man, does man have a lot of penance to do. The one thought I wonder about, is: so a man thinks, he 'is'. Is this why we're what we are? [a mess] I liked your structure, it was comfortable to read. good verbage......[bilinous/caws/writhing Title/informative/interest catching. Good jo, Mark A pleasure to read and understand.....[to my way of thinking] Dellena

This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-05-20 08:11:20
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.85000
wow poet this is powerful, I have read it over and over and come away with different feelings each time, most often thinking the poor child......but now , after todays reading, I come away with the feeling of Adam and Eve..........she was the first of mothers and it was her sin, along with Adams that has caused so much pain and suffering throughout the ages and still does today.........it seems to me the devil himself crawled inside though we know that is not true but it was the temptation that was answered which changed it all forever......... The birth of Jesus was and to me still is a gift......for He , with His undying love, gave us all back life.... Good structure, word flow, images as you can tell are to the reader and may seem quite different from all.....that is the joy of a good writer to be able to project so much.....and you never fail to do this poet...... Thank you for posting and sharing with us....God Bless, Claire

This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2005-05-17 08:43:22
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
You and Scheffer are in a battle for the minds of the faithful. Or -less. Is this Old T v. New T wars, Or merely "soupline" banter, You with the aluminium plate? plastic man.

This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2005-05-14 08:12:27
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Mark, I have read and re-read this piece several times since you posted it. Each time I come away with an unsettled feeling in the pit of my gut. The first read left me thinking you were speaking of your own birth and that made me very uneasy...but then I realized you are speaking of the birth of Jesus and his mother Mary...(if I am wrong go easy on me) the words you have used to describe this birth are amazing and I am in awe of your talent as a writer....'unrecallably obscene gestures...I knew to shrink from you... who snaked in you to bear me?..this could not be more descriptive and remain uncensored..you obliged and heaved, and writhed, and moaned while I listened suspended dumb, founded (a comma behind 'dumb' changes the sentance completly...only you could have thought of it!)now inside your bilious moat. These words gave me pause but in thinking about it I decided that is where a fetus lies unless, of course, you are using bilious to mean anger....that evening I first Was...the capitalization of 'Was' lets the reader know that this was a devine birth and nothing ordinary...God had it so and marked me with your bloodiness. Your last line gives me a feeling of hopelessness...these are the generatons of Cain. Purely unclean, I need not speak. The righteous know me from a distance....and they retreat. With all the chaos in the world of today I agree that we have become a generation of the unclean who have shied away from God and his teachings. Will we ever get it back....I think not. But we must go forward not looking back and try to learn from our mistakes. This is a wonderful poem...it is thoughtful, profound, and emotional and I, for one, am glad you are back and gracing us with your amazing talent! Please don't stop. Take care...Marilyn

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