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jude forese

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Poetry
· unraveling

· digesting newness

· a signal yet learned

· abstraction on evergreen sojourn

· forlorn verses

· broken dreams

· recycled and transformed

· disturbing the peace

· repairing: the inevitable wound of change

· past encounter

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  Living in the Womb of the Dead
by jude forese
Saturday, July 01, 2006
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Recent poems by jude forese
•  unraveling
•  digesting newness
•  a signal yet learned
•  abstraction on evergreen sojourn
•  forlorn verses
           >> View all 909

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Went to the gravesite yesterday

The ivy almost wrapped the entire tombstone
Except where it reads “beloved mother”
Which I found kind of strange indeed

The words stood out
Like in a surreal dream scene

A window to nothing but hard granite

No portal of philosophical possibilities
Consoles the loss of not knowing

It’s strange, knowing her bones
Are locked away in a casket

This frame of undefined memories
Is as old as I am, almost to the day

I realize cemeteries are for the living
So the yearly pilgrimage
Is more for myself

Yet those who have passed are always living
As long as our minds are alive

Even when the memories
Are solely from within the womb

Where the dead
Are constantly being reborn



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Reviewed by Janet Parker 7/4/2006
These thoughts of yours rip me to the core. Maybe you wouldn't have been as introspective if she hadn't left you at the beginning. Who knows. But you are what you are today because of circumstances, this, unfortunately being one of them. You're right cemeteries are for the living. Adopted children often feel that their mothers didn't love them. Children (like me) live with mothers whom they cannot connect or get along with. Agony, grief, work and then growth. Those things come from life's pain. Excellent pen, Jude.
Reviewed by Nicky Goodman 7/4/2006
such a very moving poem - a conversational voice that has me listening; you say much here, personal, and the womb connection, universal - a poem for everyone. Well done.
nicky x
Reviewed by Birgit and Roger Pratcher 7/3/2006
This is a deeply touching poem and Eileen's piece is the perfect match! Most we love the part "Yet those who have passed are always living, As long as our mindes are alive". Beautiful done.
B&R
Reviewed by Ronald Hull 7/3/2006
Knowing from hence this comes makes it all the more poignant. The idea that one remains alive in the minds of those who remember is a good reason to write. Excellent, even for you.

Ron
Reviewed by Dawn Richerson 7/3/2006
I've just stopped by to read this incredibly moving poem again, Jude, and realized, though I've read it at least three times by now, I didn't leave a comment. And now words escape me except to say as a poem this is amazing, it really seizes the reader and puts her or him right where you have stood. And, as for the loss of not knowing, your ache is heard and felt and shared by this community where you so graciously share who you are and the truths of this life reflected through a myriad of experience. Dawn
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader) 7/2/2006
My gran died as my mum was born....
Not that long ago I took her to a grave, and cleaned the headstone till it gleamed, the did the garden bit...It was a grey day and drizzling. Just as I finished it and my mum stood with me by it, the sun shone for the only time that day, kinda aiming at us in sun rays...

As we believe "never seek the living amongst the dead" You may not see her with skin on, but she is there alright. In the communion of the saints....
Reviewed by Vicky Jeter 7/2/2006
Hi Jude
I've not checked in for a while. Life has had me on different trails much these days; but I thank you for this particular piece crossing my path just now--speaks to some soul searching on my plate, and I think flanked by your offering with Eileen's response, I can
find the voice to write about it. Many Blessings, Vicky
Reviewed by Kate Clifford 7/2/2006
Those i have lived without, within i can feel them around me, guiding me on the path I am on, knowing the time is coming that I will rejoin them, knowning we will plan our next time together where our lessons will continue, but I only wonder on which planet will I land next time? My daughter has memory of being within me. We played a game, I would place things on my tummy and she would kick them off LOL. She remembers :-) Know that you are surrounded by those you love.
Reviewed by Rosemarie Skaine 7/2/2006
So very comforting. We live on in another Essence. R
Reviewed by Tinka Boukes 7/2/2006
Thought provoking piece Jude...that's why I want to be cremated....nothing to be remembered by...life now a tombstone around my neck...enough is enough.....do not want that on me any longer!!

Thank for sharing my dear friend!!

Love Tinka
Reviewed by Karen Cino 7/2/2006
Even though they are gone, they are still with you in spirit. The memories keep them alive and close by. Going to the grave always brings tears to my eyes...but once home, loving memories and pictures on my desk, gives you a feeling of warmth. I immediately smiled thinking of my grandmother as I read your piece. God Bless You Robert.

~hugs~
Karen
Reviewed by Arthur Tugman 7/2/2006
Profound poem, Robert. It is a pleasure to meet a new poet in this society. I enjoy the depth of your writing.
Homeschool
Reviewed by George Carroll 7/2/2006
Even when all memories are dead and no one is left, the dead are alive with Christ.
Reviewed by Kate Burnside 7/2/2006
You cannot begin to know how this rocks me to my soul. "No portal of philosophical possibilities Consoles the loss of not knowing"... how great a statement is that, understanding that the searching of those vast philosophical possibilities are your modus vivendi? And how heartbreaking that your infinite visionary portal is perhaps in some ways perpetually "blocked" by that "window to nothing but hard granite". I think there are many of us "womb people" about, Jude, floating like coloured bubbles, rootless and in perpetual motion, touching faces from time to time. From all the love, life and purpose you received in utero, you are perhaps a "positive womb person", whereas maybe I am a negative one, having received largely a sense of worthlessness and uselessness through the denial that my mother lived through while she was pregnant with me. But, in death, where she is at peace, there is resolution, and I feel more understanding and bonding with her now than ever I did during the 50 years we were together. In that sense, her graveside is humming with positivity and communication, as I think all cemetaries are - yes, the dead do commune in very tangible ways, passing on their sentiment and wisdom I am sure. You are greatly blessed to have your essence founded upon such received tenderness, perhaps, and you will be forever intimate because of the womb being your place of connection. All life, growth and nurture spring from it and I believe you must receive from all this her words, "I love you, Baby". As too do we, because you teach us more about hope, life, love, loss and ourselves than many visits to the Shrink could ever do - such is the healing and redemptive power of poetry. And this sense of being reborn travels with me to Spain... TY Hasta siempre. LOL Kasket Kate xx
Reviewed by Abdi-Noor Mohamed (Eagle Of Hope) 7/1/2006
We take mother's protection, care and love for granted until we are alerted by a poem like this. I sometimes used to ask myself "Where do I go from here?" and "Is there life hereafter?" and my answers became new questions of "Where have I come from?" Have I been living before I came into life?" In mother's womb I was created and after death I shall live in mother's womb
Reviewed by Susan de Vegter 7/1/2006
Your words are a tribute to a gracious woman and the respect you pay her awakens my own need to thank my mother while she is here for all the love and strengths she gives so freely.
Thank you !
Susan
Reviewed by Rhonda Galizia 7/1/2006
This is hauntingly beautiful, Jude...and I am so sorry for the tremendous pain and unmerited guilt you have borne throughout your life.

Now, may The LORD heal up your wounds, and replace them with joy!

love & prayers, Rhonda
Reviewed by Sara Coslett 7/1/2006
Jude, this is more of an epitaph than what is written on your mother's tomb. At least it is a more fitting one. You do your mother proud, Jude. Every word, every expression, every nuance of your being is her light, and speaks of her essence, her imprinting on you. It is an invisble line passing from her to you.

This is the kind of poem I could see you revisiting...much the same way you annually honor her in the physical realm.

Be well.

~ Sara
Reviewed by Ch'erie de Perrot 7/1/2006
Jude,
The Last thing I would want to do is cause you any grief, but I picked up something in this write, that says more of you, in two lines, and that something, in part I can relate too.
Out on a limb here, hoping... not to offend but to empathize, " I dont know what is worse, never having known, or to of known, only to of been disowned!"
In any case it sure can eat away, and takes years to come to terms with, of sorts. We go through many emotions, guilt, loss, anger, sorrow, it's all part of grieving, yet still an inane emptiness is left. Let me share something with you, that any self respecting Physician would confess to, and that is, the most dangerous thing a woman ever does to her life, is to bear children!! I know, my last nearly took me and the babe in one foul swoop, but if it had of been the first, I would've still had more!
It's the nature of the woman.Be at peace knowing this. All women know the risks, it's inbuilt into us, but the human race will go on regardless. So next time you visit the site, think of her as the one who unselfishley and freely took the risk that a mom takes, and it's what she wanted, and you are the beautiful result.

Take care dear one, " Gosh I hope I didnt say too much"
Love Ch'erie
Reviewed by Sherry Heim 7/1/2006
"It’s strange, knowing her bones"...you could have only written this one line and I think we all would have understood. You did know her bones and you knew the womb that carried you and delivered you into this life. I don't know the particulars about your mother but I believe I have seen it written here that she died very shortly after your birth and that her physical being was not present throughout your life. It is a huge cross to bear and I suspect that there were times in your life when you wondered if anyone/everyone blamed you...if anyone/everyone thought that had you not been spared if she would still have been alive. I imagine that some undeserved guilt does filter through in these situations. There is no breaking the bond between mother and her child, though, no matter the circumstances. I do understand that this is a difficult pilgrimage, to say the very least, I am glad that you honor her body (and your soul) in this way and that you hold her spirit securely within your own. Heartbreaking and poignant. This is one of those poems that crushes the reader and makes it impossible to take a deep breath and shake off the hurt.
Take care,
Sherry
Reviewed by L. Figgins 7/1/2006
Know it's of little comfort, Jude, but she's with you in spirit as love never dies. The connection can't be severed. This from a mother who has lost many. You may even meet her again on this path or in another. Here I'm crying again. This touched me deeply. Very fine...
Reviewed by E T Waldron 7/1/2006
Knowing what this means to you Jude, I am glad you made the visit, even if it was for yourself, it also evokes memories and stirs thoughts that sometimes can help us solve some things we may never have thought of before. I believe everything has a purpose,and since you know the "dead are constantly being reborn", you also know the opportunity is there to bond with what may have been denied you at birth. We must always remain open to this possibility, because it is an ever evolving life we live.Sometimes we can forget all the avenues open to us if we are faithful to heed our spirit, when it touches other spirits. Ponder and savor the moment.
Reviewed by Gwen Dickerson 7/1/2006
Intriguing title, Robert! Good thoughts here!
Reviewed by m j hollingshead 7/1/2006
well done
Reviewed by richard cederberg 7/1/2006
I personally abhor graveyards. There is nothing there except a dead vehicle. The essence/spirit of that life has moved on.

Yes . . . you are correct, graveyards are for the living. I am especially enamored with how people talk and cry to the gravestone. Almost as if they are expecting some form of purgative medicine to release them from something.

Good write Jude, but I don't want to be-labor my abhorence of graveyards by continuing.

Richard
Reviewed by Peter Paton 7/1/2006
Jude

Those yearly pilgrimages bring us back into close proximity and juxtaposition with those who have entered another portal and dimension..

Just a sliver seperates the living from the dead..
Quite a metaphysical journey

Peter
Reviewed by Crystal Silver Angel (Reader) 7/1/2006
(((Jude)))

this is the most stunning prolific prophetic write I have ever seen of your works.. I feel Jude, the guides are telling me that indeed it is symbolic to you being reborn and re-birthed. You know the carnal self is in there that grave but the risen caterpillar has emerged into A WHOLE NEW DEPTH, unto the glorious butterfly!!!

Peace & Love, Dove

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