a: wide white pine, grayed
generations – scuffed mountain folk,
boots, torn shirts darned, steel
needles hand-sewn, cushioned rocker
taps – fiddle echoed whistle,
coal, mills on the Ohio
b: home from war, late nights
oil and candles flicker,
foot treadle machine, wedding gift
grandmother needles sharp – memory sharper still
mother’s bridal gown
c: midwife attends labor, needles flash
front parlor – stoic cries
banished third shift father
women gather
booties, caps and shawls
men at pool hall
d: Bing Crosby plays phonograph
needle rides Andrews Sisters
vinyl grooves – 33 1/3 – corporate
congratulations
Christmas raffle – union strike
e: family plot, black lung scourge
all in white, laid off, seam played out,
IV – blood draw – inject needle
#radical
#mother works #music #free love
rips apart teenager
#mason jar
lost father
f: guardrail crumpled, no match for
Detroit muscle, speedometer needle
per sheriff, touched ninety
g: DOA at ER, six kids + one, just kids
driver high, vehicle in, needles found
h: grandparents embraced/entombed Cynthia,
fifteen,
cedar saved booties,
clothes, her unborn in coffin,
half-completed needlepoint
Bless Our H
Authors note: The d’Verse prompt is to select an object, write about it from different perspectives and link together contrasting poems in a Cubist fashion. When I woke this morning, ‘needle’ was my first thought and the Appalachian coal country was the setting. Whether this linear story fits the prompt I’m not sure, but my Muse needled me until I wrote it all.
Having read this far, “pen, {de:constructed}” this poem by De Jackson (Whimsy Gizmo) is incredible.
There Are More Poets than Stars in the Firmament 
This is absolutely fascinating! I really like the way you’ve incorporated the needles into your verses. I just love it!
LikeLike
Thanks Ina. It was a vision I had. The last stanza makes me cry every time I read.
LikeLike
I can see why. It froze me. I re-read the verse three times.
Visions can be powerful things.
LikeLike
It gives the shivers. I really like this poem, I’m going to add it to my best of page.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes. If you’re especially pleased with the way it turned out, then that’s the one you should add to your ‘best of’ page.
LikeLike
This starts out so gentle where I can almost feel the softness of pine needles, to the death in an IV room, so much it can mean in between… great work Brian.
LikeLike
Thank you Björn. There is room for much interpretation. Thanks again for the prompt.
LikeLike
I like the way you gave each stanza a letter rather than a number and laid it out a bit like a patchwork. It’s a very visual poem and as I read it I could envisage colours for each part, getting darker as it progressed – a kind of tie-dye.. I tried reading it aloud too, and it sounds beautiful.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Kim, I wanted to write in a Cubic square, but that didn’t work. Interesting point about color, I didn’t write with that in mind.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I liked this, too, and have just noticed (cuz I had to come back for a third reading)…the “a” “be” and “see” can be incorporated into the text. Love that.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Never noticed that! I’m telling you, my inner editor does all the hidden stuff that other people point out.
btw. You might enjoy this drabble I posted the other day.
LikeLike
I feel for the death of the fifteen year-old Cynthia.and her unborn child. Nice transition using the theme of “needle”.
LikeLike
Thank you so much. So many uses and meanings for needle.
LikeLike
My goodness, the emotions nearing the last stanza are so raw and palpable! Powerful write ❤️
LikeLike
Thank you, although having read the other entries, this is not Cubist.
LikeLike
Oh, Brian. This gave me chills, near tears, and other emotions and reactions I cannot even describe. Just stunning. I honestly don’t know much about cubism in poetry, but this seems to me to be a perfect example. Goodness.
LikeLike
And here I was just saying that compared to your poem, mine is not Cubist. 🙂 Thank you for your emotion. I guess this prompt has shown the truth of ‘art is in the eye of the beholder’. It feels so good to be part of a writing community again.
LikeLike
Just seeing your shoutout. Thanks so much. You’ve made my day.
LikeLike
You’re welcome. You ‘penned’ a beautiful poem.
LikeLike
PS: That “Bless our H” is gonna haunt me. I don’t think it’s just my {slightly} OCD side…there’s just something about it, and unfinished life…whew.
LikeLike
I know… it’s a painful end to so many threads woven through the family history now severed forever.
LikeLike
I don’t know what it is, but it works really well. It’s like a painful photograph album, something found and pieced together. Powerful and moving.
LikeLike
Thank you Sarah. Hadn’t thought of a photo album, but I can see how that would be.
LikeLike
This really got to me. The sense of time and place is so strong and corresponds to much of my experience. I’ve sewed on a treadle machine, lived in Scranton, nursed black lung, was deeply affected by WWII (my dad was KIA when I was 3 mos old)–this just oozes with the pain of that era and setting. Brilliant, Brian.
LikeLike
Thank you Victoria. I have not lived there but did work for Rite Aid back in the late ’90s and spent time in PA in small coal towns. The poverty and drug use that has devastated large swaths of Appalachia since the mills closed and the mines slowed production continues to haunt today. I have the deepest respect for those who made do with what they made and harvested. There have always been generational disconnects, but today’s wired history has made it worse. But through all the pain, we are still here and still telling our stories in the rocking chair.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You brought to mind a memory. I did undergrad work in Scranton and one summer took a chem class where we had to separate out and identify elements using things like weight and color and odor. There was a huge “mountain” of smoldering coal from a defunct mine nearby and it was so hard because everything smelled like sulfur. In the lab and outside. Those poor mining towns.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The ending gave me chills and I admire the turn from needles of the tree to the needles of death ~ A creative way of presentation too Brian ~ Enjoyed your share ~
LikeLike
Thank you Grace. Both you and Bjorn pointed out the implied pine needles. I have to admit, I never even thought of that. Nor, I just realized, that the coffin would have been pine as well. I’m glad my inner poet is working.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wow..this is very clever. The half done needlepoint sums up the chilling and poignant end.
LikeLike
Thanks for your support. I’d glad you liked.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The grandmother making the bride’s wedding gown on a treadle sewing machine…lovely. the whole poem, all together and part by part, one of your best I have read so far. So much emotion in this. Excellent.
LikeLike
Thank you very much. The emotion is all beneath the exterior life shown to the world at large.
LikeLike
This is an amazing bit of writing, concentrating lives to basic elements.
LikeLike
Thank you Misky for your comment.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love all the different usages of needle. Each bit stood alone, but also really created a much larger story. Nicely done!
LikeLike
Thank you very much for reading my needle work.
LikeLike
Pingback: umbilicus electronicus | There Are More Poets than Stars in the Firmament
Glad your Muse “needled” you! What a great read.
LikeLike
Thank you very much for your comment.
LikeLike
Another “stylist” to whom I’m becoming accustomed. Love your work, Brian!
LikeLike
Thanks Walter! I love your work as well. My style is eclectic.
LikeLike
For whatever reason, I consider this piece very Cubist, saucing of e.e. cummings, rife with fractures & shards of moments, decades captured in half sentences, so much covered, yet so much left implied. For me it was Steinbeckish, covering the coal country fro the late 40’s to the present; felt the tug of the 60’s in the Free Love stanza. An excellent ride & read.
LikeLike
Thanks Glenn. This prompt was so interesting for all the angst it generated among the participants. We all wanted to write to the prompt but it was so unique there were really no prior benchmarks. I think between all of us, Björn has succeeded in forcing us to create a new style of Cubist poetry. This poem has gotten under my skin in a good way. I am proud of this and am awed at all the amazing talent in the d’Verse group. Thank you for your supportive critique, I will at the last accept this as Cubist.
LikeLike
Dude.
That’s what I say when I’m overwhelmed by the brilliance of a writer to the point where I struggle to find the right words. Just… Dude.
To weave a narrative of this magnitude and to have it continue to build upon itself all the way to the gutpunch ending… Dude.
This. Is. Amazing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Word.
LikeLike
Really deep and poignant, Brian. A look back into history from a personal perspective. Made my heart ache with the emotions of it.
LikeLike
Thank you, this poem has touched a lot of people in different ways.
LikeLiked by 1 person
d: Bing Crosby plays phonograph
needle rides Andrews Sisters
vinyl grooves – 33 1/3
Wonderful of you Brian to have attested to the functionality of different types of needles. Couldn’t forget the phonograph needles which needed to be replaced every now and then.
Hank
LikeLike
Thanks Hank. There is something soothing about the phonograph.
LikeLike
This is so very intricate and fascinating – wonderful work!
LikeLike
Thanks for commenting. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
“Oh my gosh” my words just said aloud after reading this. So powerful – so many stories-lives told in these “cubes” of words. This is so powerful and covers generations — eras of time – emotions in so many details. Wonderfully written!!!
LikeLike
Thank you Lillian. Every time I read this I am moved again. I liked this prompt so much I wrote a second entry about the phone.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Will be doing more reading in a bit. I look forward to it!
LikeLike