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80 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1979
I love a man who is not worthIt becomes very apparent how much Walker was influenced by Hurston. Not only did she write and dedicate poems about/to her. The theme of women overcoming their apprehensions about speaking up and putting themselves first threads itself through Walker's poetry. Her cry of 'Having no rights. No claims / to make, I could not even coherently / protest.' could have been uttered by Janie as well as she saw herself powerless against the overbearing nature of Joe Starks. Not even mentioning the fact that Walker actually wrote a poem about Janie Crawford and how she freed herself from her husbands who wanted to use her in different ways. Gotta love these women!
my love.
Did this happen to your mother?
Did your grandmother wake up
for no good reason
in the middle of the night?
I thought love could be controlled.
It cannot.
Only behaviour can be controlled.
By biting your tongue purple
rather than speak.
At first I did not fight it.Funnily enough, I also just finished a collection of poetry by Audre Lorde (a contemporary of Walker's) and I was surprised at how similar their messages and ways of writing were, yet how I clicked more with Walker than I did with Lorde. Both women write in a very straight-forward style. They don't try to mask their messages with flowery words or overblown metaphors. Both of them stress the bond (Black) women share with each other and how our strength is build on sisterhood. I think I prefer Walker's words since she seems more humble and laid-back to me. Lorde was quite the intense woman (and she had every right to be but it pulled me out of her poetry at times).
I loved the suffering.
It was being alive!
[…]
It was my friend Gloria
who saved me. Whose glance said 'Really,
you've got to be kidding. Other
women have already done this
sort of suffering for you,
or so I thought.'
that you learned to preferIn conclusion, I was deeply moved by Walker's poems. The ways she dealt with her father's death, the terror and fear inflicted upon her by raising little black children in a world that had considered no place for them. Her anger and her suffering shone through her poetry and made me connect to her on a visceral level. All in all, I would recommend her poetry (even if it's a little unconventional in style since it's more conversational and colloquial).
all women free
and enjoyed a joke
and loved to laugh.
He said: Here is my soul.The anger of this collection, particularly the first section, was grating, and sometimes got in the way of the poetry, as with "The Abduction of Saints" (about martyrdom and manipulation and assassination), but there were a few fascinating and truly good poems. "Never Offer Your Heart to Someone Who Eats Hearts" was full of dark and powerful imagery of a cruel lover as a literal eater-of-hearts: "Your stewed, overseasoned/heart consumed/he will sop up your grief/with bread". "On Stripping Bark From Myself:" was a wise declaration of personhood:
I did not want his soul
but I am a Southerner
and very polite.
I took it lightly
as it was offered. But did not
chain it down.
I loved it and tended
it. I would hand it back
as good as new.
No. I am finished with livingThe title poem was a tender and musical poem of personal loss, but the best poems were "Early Losses: A Requiem" and "In Uganda An Early King", both of which see Walker transmute her personal and societal anger into stunning moments. In "Early Losses: A Requiem", she says,
for what my mother believes
for what my brother and father defend
for what my lover elevates
for what my sister, blushing, denies or rushes
to embrace.
To the child that's leftand in "In Uganda An Early King" she laments mistreatment in the tale of a king who fed his wives until they were too fat to move because fat wives "showed him prosperous" These two longer poems were head and shoulders above the general quality of the book and none of the very short pieces or "poems-of-fragments" were strong, an unusual departure from the skill she showed with that sort of work in the earlier Once. She seems to be shifting away from the use of space to create meaning in her verse, and this book shows a marked departure from the effective use of the technique. On the occasions it is tried, she falls short, perhaps a function of the increasingly intense activist strain running through her poetry as we come to her third collection? It remains to be seen how this change will continue in or affect the next text.
I offer a sound
without a promise
a clue
of what it means.
The sound itself is all.