If ever a womb spoke with a voice, or touched the world with the written word, let it be manifest in the word of Robin Tjernagel. The poetry she writes is not just any poetry; it is directly from the soul, from a place inside the Self that, at times, we forget to delve into when we put pen to pad in an effort to summon our voices from the dark and speak to our natures.
My friends, I am honored and pleased to introduce to you today a poet who takes her craft very seriously indeed, one who reads with a critical eye and writes just as well.
Robin Tjernagel (who is known as “Rob” in the blogging world) is a wife, a mother, and a grandmother, and an online student at UMass. She is taking steps to finish a degree interrupted by life and is three classes away from a B.A. in English Lit and Legal Studies.
To hear her tell it, she is ‘basically’ a blogger, unpublished, but I would say she is much more than a mere blogger, such is the efficacy of her word. She is also a wife, a mother, and a grandmother, no simple titles, for who but mother truly understands the power of creation? Robin states that “Most of the poems I have written recently (very few within the last year) consist of six lines and six words per line (it is a blog thing I participate in). I believe a few of them are very good. The poem I am submitting is really the first poem, with stanzas, that I have written since high school. I plan to continue writing more poetry.”
And for her submission, Womb, I would contend this is a very noble start, for this poem speaks strongly, even through the darkness of it. My friends, please read:
Once valued and loved
Life’s cycles complete
Age forces meaning silent
Dry, dark and hollow
So empty inside
Like a vase without flowers
Its purpose denied.
Stark longing and pain
Bright colors pale
Fading, fragile, frail.
Fear breaking in spate
Barren waning core
Shattering lonely shards
Her essence – no more.
I am no woman, obviously, and I cannot pretend to understand that which a woman must go through as she marches through time, but what this poem says to me is that it is not a simple thing to wake up one morning and realize that physical, biological creation, is no longer a possibility. I can imagine that it must be something akin to the painter losing both arms, any access to canvas, paint, and imagination, and still not even scratching the surface, because a painting, though it seeks to depict life, is still not life. This poem is touching on a level I cannot explain, and being a man, I will not even try to explain it for fear of making a fool of myself. What I will say is this: that, of the many poems I have had the pleasure of reading, all of them I have found lovely for one reason or another, this one must stand at the top tier, for its simplicity, for its meaning, for its honesty, and for the fact that this is Robin’s first since high school.
My friends, Robin makes a home on the blogging world, as you have seen with two links to her poetry up above. She moderates two blogs, Crime and Literature as well as Rob’s Real Life. Please do us a favor and show her some love, pay her a visit, and let her know what you think of her work. If you would like to see more of her poetry, go to Rob’s Real Life and, on the right sidebar, there is a “My Poetry” button with a slideshow of her poetry. You can click-through to check out the poetry she has up now. I am plenty sure you will not be disappointed.
Thank you all, my friends, again for your patronage, your time, and your friendship! Until next time, pick your poison; preach your passion!