[Maryann Corbett]

The Monster's Mother

After the monster's death, the monster's mother,
in her impervious carapace of grief,
arrives to pass her loss on to another.

Without her monster, who will ever love her?
It's no use calling him a thug, a thief.
After the monster's death, the monster's mother

knows only that each child is like no other
and only killing others brings relief.
Dying to pass her loss on to another,

she drags one to the bottom to discover
companionship in woe, however brief.
After the monster's death, the monster's mother

clings to despair and fury like a lover.
Guilt comes in waves, pounding her like a reef.
Though she may pass her loss on to another,

the loss remains. Revenge is fleeting. Of her
other desires, oblivion is chief.
After the monster's death, the monster's mother
must die, too. Every loss leads to another.

[Jennifer Reeser]

It is with relief I see you have kept "Grendel" out of the title. (Pardon, but I am going on the assumption this is from Beowulf). Of course, it is so artfully done, it could as well apply to humanity in a spiritual sense of "monster."

Great relation of his mother's protective physical carapace, with grief. Never did I find the repetends and rhymes cloying or co-erced, except perhaps ever-so-slightly in S5, with "reef." Stanza 4 is beautiful, with its allusion to Hrothgar's man dragged to the Mere. The lake bed bit is such a powerful one, in fact, you might strive to replace "arrives" of line three to something more germane and anchored to it -- "ascends"? Strong idea of her emerging from the depths, and a clearer pictograph, methinks, than "arrives."

Line 7 -- so touching and true. I like the duplicity in the following line, as well. "oblivion is chief" is another memorable phrase.

Not heavily introspective, and illuminating enough, psychologically, to be a satisfying piece. In form, probably no less accomplished than Bishop's "Art of Losing."

[Tim Murphy]

New to me, and how ingenious. To retell the first two thirds of Beowulf in 19 repeating lines! I take my hat off and dance on it.

[Cally Conan-Davies]

This is one of the most piteous poems I know. It kills me. It really does. It really hurts to read it.

Much of its power lies, for me, in the way the repetends are used. The first, unvarying, conveying the inexorable fate of the mother; while the second varies to suggest the struggle, the trying to escape or pull against fate, the inevitable requirement: to die. It dramatises the stages of grief, really.

It slays me each time I read, "Without her monster, who will ever love her?"

Memorable.

Cally

[Maryann Corbett]

For me the great strength of the poem is that it goes beyond Beowulf to link to other, more contemporary mythoi of evil. "Thug" and "thief" bring to mind every matriarch in a Mafia story or film, and "dying to pass her loss on to another" connects with the revenge elements in those stories also. The guilt that "comes in waves" connects with every newspaper story of mothers of gang members in rough neighborhoods in every city I can think of. It seems to me we miss a great deal if we read this through Beowulf exclusively.

[Gail White]

As Pogo used to say, there's nothing like a mammy's loving heart.
I love this one.

[Philip Quinlan]

The form overwhelms the content.

[Janice D. Soderling]

I remember reading this one, but alas the name of the poet eludes me.

Excellent work.

[Petra Norr]

Another interesting poem. As far as form goes, I think it's well done.

[David Anthony]

I was very interested to read this.

It's hard to pull off a successful villanelle: as Philip says, the form often struggles against the content. Mostly, though, I think this poem works.

It brought to mind another Grendel poem I read a few years ago, which again treats the subject with a surprising empathy:

http://www.everypoet.org/pffa/showth...hlight=grendel