Six Sentence Sunday - 4

Writers are encouraged to post six sentences from a work-in-progress or published piece. Sign into the Linky at Six Sentence Sunday, and visit other SSS participants.

This snippet from SAINT SANGUINUS takes place when 6th century Welsh warrior Peredur was a boy of thirteen.

Already the 'man' of the family for five years after his father fell in battle, Peredur finds himself at odds one day with his mother when his plans clash with hers.

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I took her blows as bravely as I could, but I was also angry and humiliated.

When she left off hitting me, I turned on her, accusing Mam of treating me like a baby. Then I did something completely unconscionable. I shoved Mam and said, “Don’t ever strike me again, woman!”

The look on her face shredded my heart, but I couldn’t go back on what I’d just said, or I really would be a child unworthy of beginning my training with the sword master. Instead, I stormed out of the hut and ignored the sound of tears in her voice as Mam called after me.

Poetry Train Monday - 153 - On Account of My Loneliness

Perhaps because I've been writing about Scorpius for the Weekend Writer's Retreat, I thought about this piece of journal writing by my grandfather.

It's written on a piece of notepaper and was in amongst a box of photographs. My grandfather was a portrait photographer, so there are loads of pictures, but hardly any memories written out like this. Something to treasure.

In the first shot shown below, he's the teenager in the center of the picture, returned from a day hunting and fishing with friends or cousins, perhaps a mixture of both.


















The second photo shows his parents, along with Grandpa's oldest brother. Grandpa's mother Arthemise died when he was only six, and he was farmed out to relatives following the loss of his mom.













He grew up in an Acadian community in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, so a reference to 'Joseph à Jim' means 'Joseph, son of Jim'.

For today's Poetry Train, I'm returning to the found poetry format which I did all last year. I'm using Grandpa's journal snippet to fashion this poem.


On Account of My Loneliness

After Mother died

After Mother died
Went to live at Joseph à Jim

At Joseph à Jim, after...

Met this woman
Who went to live there
At Joseph à Jim

She lived there
After I left

I left from there
On account of my loneliness

- Charles Doucet

Naquillity says These are the truest treasures. The ones where you can use old photographs like these and write poetry, pulling from the past.

Sheila says Oh so true, the truest treasures. I loved to watch my grandmother's old eyes as she looked at a faded photograph and told a story.

Travis says So often I see a bit of prose and the rhythm of the language just begs to be re-ordered into a poem.

Poetry Train Monday - 48 - Mother

I'm working, working, working on a competition submission, so I don't have a new poem for you. Instead I thought I'd post the lyrics to John Lennon's song Mother.

A few weeks ago I got the Lennon Legend CD, and this song really stands out to me. He managed to pour a lifetime of pain into three stanzas and a repeating refrain. And his recording holds such vulnerability, such rawness.

As Mother's Day approaches, I deeply feel this song from someone whose longed-for mother was named Julia.


Mother


Mother, you had me but I never had you,
I wanted you but you didn't want me,
So I got to tell you,
Goodbye, goodbye.

Father, you left me but I never left you,
I needed you but you didn't need me,
So I got to tell you,
Goodbye, goodbye.

Children, don't do what I have done,
I couldn't walk and I tried to run,
So I got to tell you,
Goodbye, goodbye.

Mama don't go,
Daddy come home.
Mama don't go,
Daddy come home.

- by John Lennon