Meter Maids
Meter Maids
I don’t much care for painting by numbers
but we made poems up
on our hands, my mom and I, counting syllables
on our fingers in the bath, the rumple
of her skin grown red, me in front or back,
being little, trying to find lines
that would ta-da right.
Water gleamed off of her
in beams as she ran the washcloth
over shoulders, upper arms, breasts two dangling
streams, lips dry to the last face wash,
murmuring trial rhymes.
The poems were simple and, like paintings
by number, stayed within
the lines; still, absorption
fogged the room, wrapping us
in its bared wings, keeping my mother too, my busy busy
mother, so close and gently captive.
What a miracle it was–words
broken into a count that added up
to verse–a universe–and me an initiate
into some secret society
that had learned how to make it
stand still.
******************************
Here’s a poem, really an homage to my mother who introduced me to the idea of meter in poetry. She did not write poetry much herself, and her version was pretty much syllabic, but she did give me a very early introduction to the whole notion of the thing. Usually it was done in a shared bath, when I was really very small. I am incredibly grateful. I wrote this for for the dVerse Poets Pub Poeticsprompt on numbers in honor of their second anniversary (hosted by the lovely Laurie Kolp.)
(I’ve actually been very concerned about numbers today as I also corrected a sonnet that only had thirteen lines. The fourteen line version can be found here, and if one is interested in process, has a link to original.
I have also edited this poem since first posting.
Explore posts in the same categories: poetry, UncategorizedTags: counting out the words poem, homage to mom, manicddaily, poem about learning about meter, rhyming with wash cloth, syllabic poetry in the bath
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ManicDDaily 
July 20, 2013 at 9:13 pm
Beautiful… it is nostalgic and a lovely tribute to your mother. I was smiling all the way till the end of the poem. I love to count syllables.. sometimes when I have written a haiku, I’d get into counting syllables of words in any blog post I’m reading automatically… 🙂
Have a good day(or night) as it is wherever you reside…
-HA
July 20, 2013 at 9:16 pm
What a treasured memory, and so vivid with the bath, too… counting out syllable.
I never much liked paint by numbers either. Too predictable. = )
July 20, 2013 at 9:25 pm
I have a lot of sympathy for painting by numbers– people must have strong ideas of what is presentable, and want to meet that idea – but I agre, it does seem to be a bit limiting. Thanks, Laurie. k.
July 20, 2013 at 9:20 pm
an initiation into a secret society…this is touching…my son write now..he keeps a notebook…and surprisingly it is my youngest, the athlete and not my older, more artistic boy…he writes one a day and brings them to me…simple rhymes…mostly funny…but its a connection, like you had with your mom…smiles…i am tearing up a bit so i will end there…lovely k
July 20, 2013 at 9:24 pm
Ha, thanks, Brian. I used to be in a very small writing froup with my dauther. It was a lot of fun and a very nice way to be close. k.
July 20, 2013 at 9:42 pm
What a beautifully touching poem this is, Karin. I used to tell stories with my mother. She would start, then I would continue, then she would continue, and we might have a story going on that would last for a few days until one of us ended it. I loved this. But never poetry.
July 20, 2013 at 9:46 pm
That sounds lovely, Mary. I don’t quite know why we did all the syllabic counting, though I was quite interested in poetry as a child. What I don’t know is whether my interest pre-dated out doing this, or grew out of it. (I’m guessing the latter!) k.
On Sat, Jul 20, 2013 at 10:42 PM, ManicDDaily
July 21, 2013 at 12:35 am
What a wonderful, magical memory. My mother also loved stringing words together, and word games. I know her love of language rubbed off on me.
July 21, 2013 at 2:22 am
What a fabulous experience and how magical to relive it through the gift of poetry. This is extremely well written and completely charming.
July 21, 2013 at 8:11 am
How beautiful to remember your mother that way, and recalling poetry in bath… but a sonnet with 13 lines sounds ominous… 🙂
July 21, 2013 at 8:11 am
words
broken into a count that added up
to verse–to a universe–and me an initiate
into some secret society… beautiful magic in this k. – love how the small and simple counting of syllables becomes something so big and magical
July 21, 2013 at 9:38 am
Not enough adults admit children to that inner world where things loved are shared and taught through fun…it’s wonderful to know that somewhere a little girl was introduced to poetry and counting and life with a washcloth and the simplicity of a basic shared experience. Very warm read, k.
July 21, 2013 at 10:37 am
Thanks – I realized on the bus down to City that I wrote this pretty fast and got caught up enough in the glow I didn’t put in that part of the universe I wanted to keep still was my mother – a very busy sort of person even now, so may try adding something into that. Always a hazard when posting fast – and then getting the grit to go back and re-write seems harder to find – but will maybe. You are right re adults sharing these things – really wonderful. k.
July 21, 2013 at 10:49 am
I have edited now to add that concept in – agh–maybe better, I don’t know.
On Sun, Jul 21, 2013 at 10:38 AM, ManicDDaily
July 21, 2013 at 10:29 am
loved this glimpse into the wonderful world you shared with your Mom and clearly she impacted your life in this way as you are such a wonderful writer.
July 21, 2013 at 10:49 am
Thanks so much, Andrea.
On Sun, Jul 21, 2013 at 11:29 AM, ManicDDaily
July 21, 2013 at 3:42 pm
love “trying to find lines
that would ta-da right”
& the final stanza especially, but the whole poem I find so, so beautiful
July 21, 2013 at 3:57 pm
Thanks so much, Ruth. k.
July 21, 2013 at 3:50 pm
Oh, this is such a lovely memory to share with us.
July 21, 2013 at 3:58 pm
Thanks, Rowan. k.
July 21, 2013 at 3:51 pm
Karin, thank you for sharing such a treasured memory. just beautiful. the last stanza especially got to me… wonderful write.
July 21, 2013 at 3:59 pm
Thanks so much, Miriam. k
July 21, 2013 at 4:23 pm
what a distillation of remembrances that can’t be really counted yet, yyou’ve added these memories into 14 lines! A tribute your mom created in moments.
July 21, 2013 at 4:43 pm
Thanks so much, Deb. k.
July 21, 2013 at 6:17 pm
Very cool! A lovely homage!
July 21, 2013 at 7:15 pm
…ah, you are lucky to have someone in the family influenced you to artistic world… my parents both have different line of interest & none of them were really interested in poetry… mum was all up for gardening & cooking while dad always would talk about politics & law.. sometimes i felt like outcasted & would just simply leave to somewhere with my poetry… maybe one reason why i get into blogging…to find a place for my poetry that my family didn’t much appreciate… i am lucky poetry i was sent to a school where poetry & english were being taught or i would never have discovered this li’l gift in writing… smiles… this was wonderful Karin… enjoyed it… smiles…
July 21, 2013 at 10:11 pm
Yes, I am very lucky. Good that you got to your school. k.
July 21, 2013 at 11:46 pm
I love this, its intimacy and its physicality and its meter too. What a wonderful way to never forget.
July 22, 2013 at 8:19 am
That is really, really lovely. And I count the syllables on my fingers too. Ta-da!
July 22, 2013 at 10:08 am
I still do! . k.
July 22, 2013 at 9:41 am
beautiful. the moments, especially intimate ones like this, we spend with our mothers shape the viscera of our thinking and actions. this feels like an honest tribute to that relationship. I enjoy the picture that goes along with your poem and also your double edged title. very good reading.
July 22, 2013 at 10:08 am
Thanks so much, Jane. Hope all going well with you. k.
On Mon, Jul 22, 2013 at 10:41 AM, ManicDDaily
July 22, 2013 at 10:17 am
yes it is, thank you karin. Have been busy with family… which is probably part of why your poem touched me so deeply at this time.
July 23, 2013 at 7:32 am
That was a brilliant game to play, poetry so easily dismissed and she gave you that gift–love that line “to verse a secret universe” Wonderful! 🙂
July 23, 2013 at 10:41 am
wow. very good. the meter caught me off guard, an made me rethink what I was seeing. nice
July 23, 2013 at 11:14 am
wow, love this. i can’t help but wonder if my children see me this way 🙂 thanks for sharing.
July 23, 2013 at 11:36 am
“an initiate into some secret society” — wow, I think there’s more truth than fiction in this phrase, Karin. Poets are special people who approach the world from a different perspective. What a great gift your mother gave you: closeness and creativity!
K
July 23, 2013 at 11:40 pm
Oh this is so vivid and fresh. what a wonderful gift she gave you. Thank you for sharing it with us.