Bertha, or Millie, or Evie,
I never knew her name,
but when my mother's
scrawny white body
never produced milk,
a soft black fountain
of creamy life giving
juices poured into me
from my nanny, who
was nursing an infant
of her own. From this
brown earthy breast
I bonded with the real
south - as a world full
of dark, warm, deep,
nourishing love
Incredable irony of how the south can reach down to bless the north and the employee can give subltantive salary to the employer. Love that is not only of another kind but also kind. It is a refreshingly excellent write. I really enjoyed it.10... Looking forward to reaking some more of ou great works in the future.
This is a topic not often touched in the North, where the solution would have been a cold, hard bottle. What a beautiful, sensual picture of the 'real south.'
You requested my comments on a different poem.I read it and will have no comment.This poem however is a masterpiece of allegorical symbolism, and provides many lessons, (to a foreigner like myself) , on the American ethos.
ah love.. we all want it and badly need it.. =) marvelous poem my friend.. u amazing!
Gorky once said, 'This universe is created with the rays of the sun and Mother's milk' I add 'Whatever the color of the skin of the mother' It is a very nice poem Where do people draw the line separating the North and the South?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The milking of life........ flowing like a river of Babylon, from where the source you'd get, will determine the bonding, if you really care..............beautiful piece Cheryl.You're bonded now!