An outline is cut with a thin sharp knife
by an aching wrist of an old farm wife
Orange and bright, sweet and thick
the flesh is hard and doesn’t slice quick
The top with its stem will make a good lid
so she sets it aside like an impatient kid
Out of the dark scrapes slimy seeds—
pearls for snacking as salty beads
Pierces two eyes, filets a nose
carves a mouth to scoff at foes
Leaves three teeth to fend off ghouls
and the Banshee’s requiem in keens and mewls
Digs out a hole for a candle stub
carries to the porch like a laundry tub
Looks at her head with its bone-white light
windowed and shining toward winter’s night
It’s a charm she casts at this borderland
between light that’s been and the dark at hand
Love the musicality of this, Ruth. Wonderful imagery.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Maureen. It's fun to carve out a poetic jack-o-lantern and easier for me to do than the real kind. :)
DeleteI always enjoy autumn --pumpkins are a perennial favorite.
ReplyDeleteI loved your use of rhyme. The last couplet hints beautifully at the mystery and sadness of the turning of the year.
See below for my attempt some 25 years ago when my children were little.
October
The pumpkin patch was small suburban
the track pure mud
the celebration muted
we did not bend and touch the dirt
have prickled vines tear at our hands
see insects scatter
We decorate with stalks we did not sow
round fruits bedeck the porch
and lanterns glitter demon-like
the eyes now watch us
teeth lop-sided grin
They know our folly
pity us
who did not lie in mud the autumn long
and feel the first cold wind
nor watch the moon the night time through
but came one afternoon
and paid
to play at husbandry
Oh Elizabeth, I love your poetic commentary on picking out pumpkins with your kids. You may not have grown the pumpkins yourself, but your husbandry of your poem is expert!
DeleteThis is beautiful, Ruth - a Samhain gourd brimming over with the power of Hecate, the Wise Woman, the Crone. She is on my mind a lot at this time of year.
ReplyDeleteAmanda, thank you. I love the delicious lore of this season with rich symbols and signs.
DeleteThe rhyme makes this seem very incantatory from the beginning, and certainly by the wonderful close. I have given up the pumpkin rite, like you--so painful to do any more, but also, watching the pumpkin cave and rot got too depressing, though that is it's ordained fate, I suppose. As your last line hints, perhaps because it's one we share.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Hedge. You and I know that now (this time of year, this time of life) is when we go inside and explore the quiet treasures hidden in the dark.
DeleteWell done, Ruth, and I like the way this poem builds to the last couplet about the "borderland between the light that's been and the dark at hand." This reminded me of some of the feelings I recently experienced when crossing through one of my own borderlands, and it's reassuring to know that your carved pumpkin is casting a little charm my way (and I may need more charm than usual as this monster storm, Sandy, approaches my frond door).
ReplyDeleteThank you, George. Going back to old traditions and mythologies that permeate these modern practices is enriching. I really love the rhythm of the Celtic year with attentions to the seasons, for the ways it feeds my inner life. I forget it sometimes, until holidays like this.
DeleteI meant to also say, BE SAFE against Sandy!
DeleteAh, yes that's it—I have a front door made of palm fronds, which is going to present some problems as winter arrives. :)
ReplyDeleteSorta like the beautiful thatched roof in Chipping Campden? :)
DeleteHow wonderful Ruth! Every couplet touches me and builds up to that last...Everything is about the light...
ReplyDeleteGailO, thank you for reading and for understanding that this is about the light throughout. It was my meditation!
DeleteI agree with the others. This is "incantatory" as hedgewitch says--the playful rhythm contrasting with "the dark at hand." (The dark is always at hand.) Just like this season, when the play-acting and candy grabbing of children hides the deeper meanings of ancient rites.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Ruth.
DS, I wonder if when people talk about "the good ole days" they are pointing at times when people were connected, really connected with the changes in the earth's seasons, with its harvests and plantings. It seems easier to connect with the soul when we are moving at a pace that reflects that rhythm. But of course it was not easier for them (or for those in similar circumstances in these modern times), it was about survival. Thank you, my friend.
DeleteAfter seeing all the images of pumpkins with James (et al), this just makes me smile, dear sister! :)
ReplyDeleteBoots, yes, it was special to explore the pumpkin patch with James after writing this poem. :)
DeleteLove this, Ruth — yes, there's something incantatory, and ancient, and witchy about it. Tremendous.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Robert! I enjoyed getting into the spell of rhyme again. I guess Halloween is a good time for it.
Delete