Isinglass Heart

I was a jalousie after spring cleaning to you

Emotionally dependent, transparent as a widow in confession

You knew more about my psychological makeup than I did

Mother I wish you would have told me to wake up and fly

You were burnt at the edges, the fire in your eyes wouldn't warm a cup of tea

Hungry and angry at the servile nature of your time of life, you weren't built that way

It wasn't my fault you hadn't the means nor the courage to start over

I sit and stare at you across the table, the black heart behind the Isinglass

Reviews

[Beccy]

It is in our species nature to strive, and often succeed, in soaring a little higher than the generation before. The veil of servitude lifts, gradually becomes lighter, less of a responsibility; and though we may wish to take others with us on the upward journey, the fire, as you so poignantly highlight, has mayhap been long extinguished.

A previous reviewer has commented that he is unable to see or understand anything of the nature of this poem. A shame really, as interpretation forms much of the joy of reading poetry, and to simply dismiss such is unproductive at best. For me, the message I hear loud and clear as I came to the final line, is; onward's and upwards, but not at the expense of leaving a loved one behind.

Off beam or not, I don't really care, as like I said, there is much joy to be had in the interpretation of a fellow poet's words.

Beccy.

[Neville]

I'm respectfully with Beccy...in every respect... respect.. N

[barleygirl]

WOW! This is a stunning spew of familial bile. Coming from a long line of huge clans that mostly hate one another, I can relate! You've captured so precisely that precipice where words sound almost loving and almost like you're cutting the other person some slack, while at the same time simmering in resentment. This is a vivid way to show instead of tell how my family just didn't know how to love (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

I sometimes secretly wonder if this is how my children look at me. Dead behind the soul windows...

[Corset]

I love the play on the window in this, the blinds that shutter off emotions, the passage of and the boredom with life that parents seem to blame the kids for, I could have been something else if I hadn't been pregnant theme, I especially relate to "You were burnt at the edges, the fire in your eyes wouldn't warm a cup of tea" my foster mother has this look last time I sat across the kitchen table. She was a singer and was offered but
wouldn't split the group with her sisters. I wonder if she had...would she still be an a 52 acre farm in the middle of Kentucky nowhere? Well, at least she doesn't blame us kids for that.

[Kelly Scheppers]

You make me wish I could write with such intent..."transparent as a window in confession". I must say, I've never heard of the word "isinglass', but after reading this, I shall long remember it! Your writing always encourages me to be a better poet!

[Neville]

Another scorcher here we have.. summat to ponder upon these frosty manes.... there is a heartwrenching sadness here, warmed tho by the glow and images emanating from behind the smokescreen of your Isinglass ...... full marks from me squire...... N

[Mark Tisdale]

In writing poetry it is your job to show one who might take the time to read it something in themselves, or have them think about a subject in a novel fashion, or transport them into a scene you have built like a painting, or something like this.

This poem is not poorly written but that is the best thing that can be said about it I'm afraid. In reading it I am unable to see or understand anything except that you have a bad relationship with your mother. While I feel for you I don't feel anything for me.

[Crowley]

I apologize for wasting your time. But, thank you nonetheless for stopping by I appreciate it!!

[Robert Trakofler]

I'm thinking the point of the Isinglass heart(h) is in fact it shows an inference of what's behind it in a Mondrian sort of way...

[Crowley]

Its weird because I heard the phrase Isinglass in a book I was reading and looked it up. Immediately I hooked on to the fact that through the glass you can see the flame but only flickering behind the black and drippy coating on the glass. I'm not sure I meant to make it as sad as it came out, but it just came out the way so I decided to let it be. Thanks BB!!

[Robert Trakofler]

in one of my early apartments I only had a Moore heater to heat the place it had an isinglass screen in front of it I remember sleeping next to it (cause the rest of the apartment was freezing) but I would stare at the dancing flames for hours mesmerized or perhaps it was the lack of ventilation slowly killing me but it was nice nonetheless:)

[Crowley]

I love that memory...

[Robert Trakofler]

Damn it crowley your always making me look up words and at...
I am jealous of your clean Jalousie mine are filthy:)
This poem breaks my heart Crowley the feeling i get is so defeated and sad the result of so much of being forced to do and be something your not and the result of the damping of heart and spirit:( and the last line makes me wonder who is the owner of the isinglass?

[jacob erin-cilberto]

love the fire in the eyes and cup of tea idea..
but burnt at the edges wanting so much more out of life...
and the servile nature....much like Sylvia Plath...subservient in life...dominant in her poetry.
some just don't get do-overs...
j.

[Crowley]

That’s for sure...thanks Jacob.