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The Matters of Life
With furrowed brow she knits away her troubles,
Her wrinkled face so tight and drawn with age.
The skeins of yarn unwind in rapid motion
As woes translate to tight and tighter gauge.
Tho weary of her task, she stays determined
To process life through each and every stage,
Intent to keep her knitting needles clacking
And, deep in thought, become a wiser sage.
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“Gauge”: the fineness of a knitted material determined by the number of loops per 1 1/2 inches. ( The American Heritage Dictionary, Second College Edition).
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Margaret Brinton has lived in San Diego’s inland valley area for over forty years where she taught and tutored. Her poems have recently been published in California Quarterly and Westward Quarterly and The Lyric with upcoming work in the greeting card industry.
Repetitive tasks can indeed be a time for reflection and to think things out.
I really enjoyed the precision of your lines, Margaret – eleven syllables (iambic till the extra last syllable), then ten in perfect iambic pentameter, and every even line of the two stanzas rhyming until the poem hangs off the title like a half finished, patterned sweater.
And what a great, three-dimensional character you’ve created, clacking away with the knitting needles.
Brilliant!
Your title drew me in, Margaret, and then its subject even more so. I agree with everything Paul Freeman so carefully scanced.
Surprised you knit in the San Diego area but not really. If you love it, you do it.
I knitted one sweater as a young man and found the process to be anything but therapeutic but I fully understand the need for a repetitive task like this that can help us process life through every stage as we attempt to advance toward sage-hood. Well done!
Mary, this poem makes me want to reach for my knitting needles again. I can relate to the words of the poem completely… knitting for me is therapeutic. I’ve been knitting since childhood when Tom Baker – the knitted-scarf-wearing Dr. Who was on the telly. I made myself a Dr. Who scarf and then progressed to a neon pink cardigan. I didn’t check my tension, and it ended up large enough to fit an adult male… my grandfather (in true loving-grandfather style) wore it for years to do his gardening in. Your beautifully wrought poem has made my day!
I really enjoyed this poem, Margaret. The subject, I believe, would be relatable to most of us, although to varying degrees. It’s crisp and powerful, and the rhyme scheme’s beautiful.
To all of you who took time to read my poem and make your valuable and astute comments, I truly thank you !
Wise and a beauty. Congratulations dear Margaret,
Patricia
Your support drives me onward.
Nice imagery with “needles clacking”. My only attempt at knitting years ago was a simple scarf. I could never get proper tension; although, to second Susan, I’m tempted to give it another try, or perhaps “finger knitting”. I’m much more adept at needlepoint, embroidery, or counted cross.
My grandmother would spend hours knitting beautiful afghans and then would just give them away. This poem describes her perfectly. Thank you, Margaret.
What I like about this poem is its concision and tightness — perfectly in tune with the tightness of the worked yarn being knitted into a garment. Of course one could say that the knitting here is purely figurative, since the first line says that “she knits away her troubles.” In that case, the knitting might simply stand for the woman’s fixity and determination to face life and its problems without flinching or giving up.
For highly skilled knitters, knitting can become a pleasant and unbreakable habit, like Greek worry beads, or the polished pieces of jade that some Chinese carry around to finger at idle moments, or the ball bearings that nervous persons carry to roll in their palms. All such things can relieve tension, but at least with knitting something is produced.
I appreciate the time and effort and thoughts applied to all of the above comments.