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Cleave
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
November 20, 2011
Cleave
By Angela Felsted
This first chapbook by Angela is a promise of more intriguing, achingly revealing, painful and joyous revelations to come. It is an intensely personal collection. Were it not for the pull of the wonderful imagery, one might flinch from its almost too acutely drawn accounts.
The loss of a parent – “a man holds a little girl’s hand” – gives us the pain and self doubt of a child who feels abandoned by parental separation and yet, in hindsight, cannot deny the feelings in the last contact and memories invoked.
“you think of the hug he ached to give you
filled with sunsets, sandcastles, a warm breeze
handfuls of shells from the sea.
.
First love laid bare – “under waning stars” and “she came to you as a new bride” - in the hands of a much older man, is as much a diary of betrayal as a rite of passage.
“friends, he called us
in the hushed fervent
voice of a preacher
clasping my body to
his, front against front
like a god fearing man
prays palm against palm.
our shoes made
circles in the dying
leaves. our friendship
dying with them.”
Images of snow/frosting and sunshine/yellow flowers weave through the entire collection, defining its pages and creating a sense of life in all its complexity and contradiction. Some examples follow -
“daffodil petals unfurling
to the sun, spreading with
the swell of her stomach” [she cried in to the silver delta]
“they shot
through his scalp like new
grass, meadows of gold”
[my grandfather’s hat hid the best of him]
“her baptism like
a swatch of snow-white cotton, taken from the blanket
nurses wrapped her in at birth.” [when my daughter moves away from me]
and one of my favourite verses –
“in the station, a clock strikes two.
on the platform, snowflakes kiss.
years from now, the girl will leave home
and the snowflakes whirling, falling in her hair
will mirror the stirrings of her
guarded heart: soft, cold, delicate. “ [a man hold’s a little girl’s hand]
Married life is shown as a seesaw of love and disaffection - “your truth like a water drop” and “your love like an old well” -
“metal squeals on metal, ropes
stretch, arms ache. the bucket creaks as
i lift it to my lips, tip back my face, wait
for the life-giving deluge of your love.
an avalanche of topsoil falls into my
mouth. why do i always come back?”
Then there is the anguish of motherhood – “if I refused to cry”, “neurofeedback” and “sitting in church” – the gigantean effort, the endless wondering and helplessness fed by censorious others,
“and that’s when i sense it: the wary gaze of the
woman in front of us, moving from
my brood to her four obedient daughters
each with a wide brimmed pale pink hat.
they fold their hands just like their mother’s
silent mannequins in a fancy store window”
The collection starts with “buttercups” and ends with -
“gauzy in the moon's silver-white rays.
naked skin glowing as pale frosting “
This is a collection that will resonate with women the world over! But keep tissues by and be prepared for the sharp sting of recognition.
By Angela Felsted
This first chapbook by Angela is a promise of more intriguing, achingly revealing, painful and joyous revelations to come. It is an intensely personal collection. Were it not for the pull of the wonderful imagery, one might flinch from its almost too acutely drawn accounts.
The loss of a parent – “a man holds a little girl’s hand” – gives us the pain and self doubt of a child who feels abandoned by parental separation and yet, in hindsight, cannot deny the feelings in the last contact and memories invoked.
“you think of the hug he ached to give you
filled with sunsets, sandcastles, a warm breeze
handfuls of shells from the sea.
.
First love laid bare – “under waning stars” and “she came to you as a new bride” - in the hands of a much older man, is as much a diary of betrayal as a rite of passage.
“friends, he called us
in the hushed fervent
voice of a preacher
clasping my body to
his, front against front
like a god fearing man
prays palm against palm.
our shoes made
circles in the dying
leaves. our friendship
dying with them.”
Images of snow/frosting and sunshine/yellow flowers weave through the entire collection, defining its pages and creating a sense of life in all its complexity and contradiction. Some examples follow -
“daffodil petals unfurling
to the sun, spreading with
the swell of her stomach” [she cried in to the silver delta]
“they shot
through his scalp like new
grass, meadows of gold”
[my grandfather’s hat hid the best of him]
“her baptism like
a swatch of snow-white cotton, taken from the blanket
nurses wrapped her in at birth.” [when my daughter moves away from me]
and one of my favourite verses –
“in the station, a clock strikes two.
on the platform, snowflakes kiss.
years from now, the girl will leave home
and the snowflakes whirling, falling in her hair
will mirror the stirrings of her
guarded heart: soft, cold, delicate. “ [a man hold’s a little girl’s hand]
Married life is shown as a seesaw of love and disaffection - “your truth like a water drop” and “your love like an old well” -
“metal squeals on metal, ropes
stretch, arms ache. the bucket creaks as
i lift it to my lips, tip back my face, wait
for the life-giving deluge of your love.
an avalanche of topsoil falls into my
mouth. why do i always come back?”
Then there is the anguish of motherhood – “if I refused to cry”, “neurofeedback” and “sitting in church” – the gigantean effort, the endless wondering and helplessness fed by censorious others,
“and that’s when i sense it: the wary gaze of the
woman in front of us, moving from
my brood to her four obedient daughters
each with a wide brimmed pale pink hat.
they fold their hands just like their mother’s
silent mannequins in a fancy store window”
The collection starts with “buttercups” and ends with -
“gauzy in the moon's silver-white rays.
naked skin glowing as pale frosting “
This is a collection that will resonate with women the world over! But keep tissues by and be prepared for the sharp sting of recognition.
October 6, 2011
First, I'd just like to point out a few very pleasing aesthetics. It's all in lowercase. I'm a sucker for lowercase in poetry. I love how it represents a sort of purity and innocence, which, I might add, is remarkably clever considering the poetry is centered around childhood memories. Such a beautiful touch. Also, the titles of each poem are like sentences. Another unique trait that really caught my attention from the get go. I love it when writers break rules because, in my opinion, they are there to be broken, and when that happens, one's true voice shines through.
This collection strongly centers around the themes of music (even if quite symbolic) and tainted innocence. There are also a few religious connotations, but really they are only obvious if you decide to read the collection with religion in mind. I'm not a religious person, so I was so pleased to be able to read past Felsted's spiritual subtleties, and give them meanings of my own. This is a sign of true talent, when a reader is able to read and associate the words with themself, and not the poet.
I found myself ooh-ing and ahh-ing aloud over Felsted's work. I sometimes even thought, "wow. I wish I wrote that!" I could pinpoint my favorite moments from each and every poem (there is not even one dud among them), but I'm going to choose a line from one; one I'd like to call my favorite: "i was as water".
"...when i
tried to hold you
i tumbled
and slid
leaving sand on your
tattered shore ..."
I like to read this in two different ways:
1. to a person in my past
I am the wave. I tried to stay close to you, and love you, but all I did was leave my wretched debris on your already wretched land.
2. To my stringed instrument
I was holding you, but my grip on the bow was not strong enough (or too strong), it slipped out of my hand, leaving remnants of resin in your over-used strings. I'm afraid to play you. To hurt you. To hurt myself.
There is so much in this collection that evokes such a response. I will read this collection a lot more than once. And I'm sure, that with every reading, I will find something new to ooh and ahh over.
This collection strongly centers around the themes of music (even if quite symbolic) and tainted innocence. There are also a few religious connotations, but really they are only obvious if you decide to read the collection with religion in mind. I'm not a religious person, so I was so pleased to be able to read past Felsted's spiritual subtleties, and give them meanings of my own. This is a sign of true talent, when a reader is able to read and associate the words with themself, and not the poet.
I found myself ooh-ing and ahh-ing aloud over Felsted's work. I sometimes even thought, "wow. I wish I wrote that!" I could pinpoint my favorite moments from each and every poem (there is not even one dud among them), but I'm going to choose a line from one; one I'd like to call my favorite: "i was as water".
"...when i
tried to hold you
i tumbled
and slid
leaving sand on your
tattered shore ..."
I like to read this in two different ways:
1. to a person in my past
I am the wave. I tried to stay close to you, and love you, but all I did was leave my wretched debris on your already wretched land.
2. To my stringed instrument
I was holding you, but my grip on the bow was not strong enough (or too strong), it slipped out of my hand, leaving remnants of resin in your over-used strings. I'm afraid to play you. To hurt you. To hurt myself.
There is so much in this collection that evokes such a response. I will read this collection a lot more than once. And I'm sure, that with every reading, I will find something new to ooh and ahh over.
August 4, 2012
This is a wonderful small book of poems by Angela Felsted.
"when my daughter moves away from me": Though I have sons, I could relate to this poem!
I love the titles Felsted gives her poems: "my grandfather's hat hid the best of him" and "your love, like an old well."
Felsted's poems touch deep within the reader's soul, heart, and spirit. Especially recommended for women...
"when my daughter moves away from me": Though I have sons, I could relate to this poem!
I love the titles Felsted gives her poems: "my grandfather's hat hid the best of him" and "your love, like an old well."
Felsted's poems touch deep within the reader's soul, heart, and spirit. Especially recommended for women...
March 28, 2012
If you live in the United States, this is available for purchase here: http://www.finishinglinepress.com/pro...
September 10, 2012
Reaction: Finally REAL poetry. I mean poetry about real life that is relate-able. Great imagery/ detail. Really enjoyed it.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews