“Leaving” – Clarian Sonnet
Leaving
When I left home to have my second child,
the first (latched to my legs) turned woeful, wild,
“don’t go, she cried, her “mommies” torn with “please,”
while I, as tearful, tugged her from my knees,
then picked her up to briefly wedge my heart
above the labor’s crazy stop and start.
I loved that age, that strength, but love won’t bind
much of anything that has to do with time.
So now when I hear words like “please don’t go”
I don’t return to births from long ago,
but to the bedsides dim of friends and more
where fearful like an only child, voice torn,
I pleaded with them please to please stay on,
even after every piece of them was gone.
***********************************
The above is a “Clarian Sonnet,” named after poet John Clare (1793-1864) posted for the dVerse Poets “Form For All” Challenge, and hosted by Samuel Peralta who blogs as Semaphore. It is a sonnet based upon seven rhyming couplets. (Quick editorial note – the second child was born healthy and wonderful and the first and second are now very very close.)
I am also linking this to Imperfect Prose, where Emily Wierenga blogs about motherhood and other difficult/wondrous experiences.
Explore posts in the same categories: poetry, UncategorizedTags: "Leaving" Clarian Sonnet, dVerse Poets Pub Clarian Sonnet, Imperfect Prose, manicddaily, Poem about birth and death, rhyming couplet sonnet, woe is me poem
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ManicDDaily 
May 3, 2012 at 10:56 pm
wow…this is a very moving piece k.. totally forgot about the form while reading as i was so captured by what you wrote…birth and death..the leaving and letting go…loved it
May 3, 2012 at 10:59 pm
Thanks so much, Claudia. K.
May 3, 2012 at 11:01 pm
Oh wow. That tugged at my heart in so many ways, in so many different ways. It brought me sighing with the child imploring stay at the start, and then I was moved near to tears by the parallel at the end, except that this time the leaving was for good. That it is a Clarian sonnet is remarkable, but never mind that – it is, in and of itself, a remarkable poem, period.
May 3, 2012 at 11:03 pm
Well, thank you so much, Sam. I love working with forms as I find they can get me out of my habitual ruts and force me to make decisions about the writing. I especially like the idea (at least) of a sonnet because it forces you to cut! K.
May 3, 2012 at 11:27 pm
Ah, the leaving is hard to do, especially when as in both your examples, there’s absolutely no choice, and those left are frightened and hurting. The circular feel of the rhythm of our lives is of course at the core here, and the sonnet form, especially this rhyming couplet after couplet kind(which I found somewhat easier) really reinforces it. And yes–you do have to cut like fury, and that’s what makes them so hard, and so cool. The seventh and eight lines here toll like the iron bell. A beautifully sad poem.
May 4, 2012 at 5:38 am
Sad story, but beautifully written. Very nicely done.
You may have seen this already, but it’s one I wrote years ago, and has a story version as well. Both are terribly heart-wrenching.
May 4, 2012 at 5:41 am
This is so good, both in the rhythms and the content. A real joy to read and a fitting tribute to one who is for me, right at the apex of the art: John Clare.
May 4, 2012 at 6:10 am
Very sad.The cycle of life goes so quickly from birth to death. Lovely.
May 4, 2012 at 6:47 am
Powerfully rendered. Contrasting birth and children clinging to security with the mournful loss of friends passing, this is very memorable and captures a lot within the form, both enclosed and not within its borders.
May 4, 2012 at 6:54 am
Thanks so much, Charles.
May 4, 2012 at 7:17 am
really nicely done…i def did not think form as i read it…and that is a good thing…ugh…life death, letting go…sad piece for sure but well done ma’am
May 4, 2012 at 7:33 am
Thanks so much, Brian.
May 4, 2012 at 7:51 am
Karin, I like that you’re so strong you can hold the center of the different leavings and still stay open to live through them. Like children who survive to become women who still feel as children. And that’s so true of you. Lovely poem dear.
May 4, 2012 at 8:06 am
Ha. Well, thanks so much Sian. I really am not sure that I am so strong particularly, but I think young mothers are–there’s a time of great force and stamina. So nice to hear from you. I hope you are well and think of you often. It’s so great to see those old photos–of course, I’m always looking out for the ones of you especially. K.
May 4, 2012 at 11:10 am
Birth and death…..so powerfully put and compared. Lovely word usage here….very very skilfully done. It’s almost like someone’s put a mirror right in the middle of the poem- birth oneside- death the other
May 4, 2012 at 11:25 am
This is a very special poem, set aside the fact that it pretty well complies with the Clarian sonnet rules, I was so wrapped in the story that I forgot this was also an exercise in sonnet writing.
May 5, 2012 at 12:47 am
Ha! Thanks much. K.
May 4, 2012 at 12:40 pm
This could only come from someone who went through the paces and loving it. It’s so moving and reality at its best. Great write K!
Hank
May 4, 2012 at 7:35 pm
Wow, that was an unexpectedly sad twist at the end. You were taking me back to labor days with older children to care for as well. And then you totally switched gears on me. Great effect.
May 4, 2012 at 8:06 pm
The motherly perspective is all seeing here, very powerful !! Only women can produce the magic of life and maybe that’s the most special thing their is !! Thank You so much for sharing!!
May 5, 2012 at 12:47 am
Thanks so much.
May 5, 2012 at 9:32 am
That’s a gorgeous sonnet. Aside from the fact you have the rhythm and rhyming couplets spot on, you have woven a story of ultimate melancholy and your ‘turn’, the close ..
“I pleaded with them please to please stay on,
even after every piece of them was gone.”
.. is just brilliant. Applause.
May 5, 2012 at 8:38 pm
I love the emotional honesty in your writing style. Looking forward to more!
May 7, 2012 at 4:58 am
A wonderful, and heart-wrenching poem!
May 10, 2012 at 10:45 pm
this is haunting and lovely.
May 10, 2012 at 10:45 pm
there is something in your words that always leaves me aching for more… you are such a gifted poet, friend.
May 10, 2012 at 11:00 pm
Thank you so much, Emily.
May 10, 2012 at 10:45 pm
(your settings are so that a person must log into a wordpress account–makes it extra tricky!)
May 10, 2012 at 11:00 pm
Oh, thanks Suzannah. I’ll see if I can change that. k .
May 10, 2012 at 11:08 pm
I tried to simplify it – I’m not sure if I did. Thanks. k.