матрёшка (Matryoshka}
The Morgue File
Paper lined your eyes
and cyrillic your tongue
as you loosened both,
plucking the stories of us
from mother soil
before we knew who we were
forming us, a decoupage
in Russian.
copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt
Today, Susan challenges us to write about teachers at Poets United Mid-Week My poem is for my father, who taught Russian to so many, and who gave me and my sister both, a Russian soul in the process--
A matryoshka doll (Russian: матрёшка;, matrëška), also known as a Russian nesting doll, or Russian doll, refers to a set of wooden dolls of decreasing size placed one inside another. The name is believed to be a derivative of "Matriosha" or "Matriona," which were female names that enjoyed immense popularity among Russian peasants. The name connotes the matriarch of a big Russian family.(from Wikipedia)
what a cool tribute to your father . pulling stories from you and the mother soil is a cool way of seeing it
ReplyDeleteGorgeous! An artist/teacher and stones and stories and dolls . . . I loved my early teachers who hardly knew what they were doing. But I gather from your note that your Dad knew. The poem is much bigger then its few lines. Bravo!
ReplyDeleteI believed I have seen one of those dolls ~ I love plucking the stories from mother soil ~ A good tribute to your father Audrey ~
ReplyDeleteI am sure each of us will hope that our children will remember something of our past that they can be proud of.
ReplyDeleteLovely tribute to your father.
ReplyDeleteWow, a father who was a teacher, who grew in you a Russian soul. How very cool. I loved this.
ReplyDeleteOh wow...I'm grateful for your note and then a reread...enriched your poem immensely. Awesome metaphor for this.
ReplyDeleteI have a hand painted nesting doll, one of my College professors brought back from Russia for me. There is a sense of deep abiding love in your words for the man, the father, and the teacher,
ReplyDeleteElizabeth
"plucking the stories of us / from mother soil" how lovingly he grew in you a Russian soul...a beautiful tribute to your father...
ReplyDeleteI love the Cyrillic tongue.. what a wonderful thing to be taught. Nothing like having more than one language.
ReplyDeleteLucky you, both, Audrey! Exposed to a different culture and another language is a privilege not many have. Great lines!
ReplyDeleteHank
Passing on a unique and magical story is truly a gift - a fitting tribute and wonderful poem
ReplyDeleteI liked it.
ReplyDeleteWhat a fascinating way to give tribute to your father and your native soil (soul)....well done!
ReplyDeleteThis is oh so touching!! Absolutely lovely :)
ReplyDeleteA perfect tribute to your father who taught you how to stay ocnnected to your culture. Beautiful Audrey.
ReplyDeleteYou tell us so much of your father in so few words. I get that he may have had a commanding presence but not in a harsh way. Loving tribute to him.
ReplyDeleteThis is truly an iconic image, one that gives me pause. Your poem captures it beautifully, and I thoroughly enjoy how you share a little bit about your father in this post too. Wishing you a wonderful weekend :)
ReplyDeleteLovely and tender - delicate, really. The last line so figuratively and poetically: layered and nuanced. A wonderful little piece.
ReplyDeleteA lovely acknowledgment of what he gave you.
ReplyDeleteLovely couplets. Such a touching tribute - to your father and hometown. That's a gorgeous image
ReplyDeleteSuch an evocative poem, Audrey. Beautiful and laconic but enclosing much, just like a set of matryoshka dolls.
ReplyDelete