1 this is what i know

2 my mother went mad

3 in my fathers house

4 for want of tenderness

5 this is what i know

6 some womens days

7 are spooned out

8 in the kitchen of their lives

9 this is why i know

10 the gods

11 are men

(Clifton 29)

This untitled poem found in the “Being Heard” section of Lucille Clifton’s book is poignantly meaningful. Clifton speaks clearly through each line in her poem. In lines 1-2 she states that her mother went mad. The line “my mother went mad,” holds a soft alliteration that breathes so naturally in the poem it could pass unnoticed. In lines three through four, she briefly explains where and why. This sets the tone for the rest of the poem. Lucille goes on to explain; women’s days are “spooned out,” which is an interesting term, “in the kitchens of their lives.” The phrase, spooned out, implies that only a small amount of life is spooned at a time. The phrase, which is metaphorical, implies that someone else is spooning out the lives of women and delegating them to the kitchen. The last stanza brings her point home. She reveals that those holding the spoons are men, and those retaining their wives in the “kitchen of their lives,” are men, and consequently, because of the power they hold, are gods. It is here that she metaphorically ties gods to men declaring that “the gods//are men.” It is also worth noting that Clifton refrains from capitalizing not only her stanzas, but the pronoun I, and the word gods. Perhaps she desires to keep the poem simple, freeing it from the laws of punctuation and capitalization. This leaves the poem in its barest state, free from inhibitors, easy to digest.

sorrows

1 who would believe them winged

2 who would believe they could be

3 beautiful   who would believe

4 they could fall so in love with mortals

5 that they would attach themselves

6 as scars attach and ride the skin                  

7 sometimes we hear them in our dreams

8 rattling their skulls   clicking

9 their bony fingers

10 they have heard me beseeching

11 as i whispered into my own

12 cupped hands   enough   not me again

13 But who can distinguish

14 one human voice

15 amid such choruses

16 of desire

In “Sorrows” Clifton personifies sorrow(s) weaving a lovely metaphor: lends them wings, dubs them beautiful, and capable of falling in love. She also starts her poem with soft alliteration, “Who would…winged,” (Clifton 25). Clifton likens sorrows to “the gods” when she uses the word “mortals,” allowing her reader to contemplate the deity of sorrows briefly. Next she ties in a simile, likening sorrows to scars that attach to the skin. She does not leave off with attachment through, she shows that they also ride the skin. Lucille Clifton implies that sorrows speak, and haunt our dreams. Rattling skulls imply that the sorrows are old, and long dead, but their clicking’s can still be heard when we move their skeletons. Clifton reveals that she has begged the sorrows to leave her, not to visit her, but her last lines lament: “who can distinguish// one human voice//amid such choruses of desire,”(Clifton 25). The meaning of this line is: if sorrows are gods, how can they hear her one plea, when so many others are begging for the same thing?

1 my grandfather’s lullaby

2 pretty little nappy baby

3 rockin in that chair

4 theys a world outside

5 the window

6 and somebody in it hates you

7 let me hold you baby

8 and love you all i can

9 better to hear it from papa

10 than learn it all alone

Clifton’s “my grandfather’s lullaby,” is not at all what one would expect a lullaby to be. Lullabies are generally employed to put little children to sleep. This one seems to be designed to wake one up. Her grandfather’s lullaby issues a warning, “there are people in the world outside the window that hate you.” It is, however, reassuring: the first lines affirm the beauty of the child, lend a hint of comfort. “Pretty little nappy baby,” the words ring with assonance. The word “nappy”, usually with a negative connotation, is made neutral by the positive words around it. In a paradoxical way, this lullaby is soothing and comforting in that it issues a warning. It allows the listener to be prepared for the world outside the window. It offers the safety of the world behind the window. The lullaby does not let a child go out into the world unaware, to get hurt by the hateful mobs alone.  It is interesting to note that the word “nappy,” will most likely be used by those “somebody’s” who will hate the child. The lullaby almost takes the sting out of the word by introducing it to the young child as a positive word, one to be proud of, not ashamed to bear. “Nappy,” the first stanza breathes, “is good, cute, and pretty.”  Her last line holds a hint of alliteration, “than learn it all alone,” (Clifton 22). Clifton’s lullaby is both cautionary, and comforting in that it issues a warning while building up self-esteem and pride in natural beauty.