Brandt: Individual Poet Project

Di Brandt is a Mennonite poet from Canada whose work has shifted over the years from past and self discovery to advocating for women and the environment.   Part one, Part two, and Part three are pieces reflecting on her 3rd book, "Mother Not Mother," including her bio in context, a short poem analysis, and a long poem analysis.

Make some connections of your own on her work and her life. Enjoy!


may these words go nowhere and endure.
-NLW

part two: short poem MOCKING MOTHERS, MASKED MADONNAS

Mocking Mothers, Masked Madonna: Brandt reveals their nature

In Di Brandt’s third book, Mother, Not Mother, she includes the poem “the purple hooded Madonna” which criticizes the sadistic nature of a woman’s role in motherhood. Brandt begins with a distinct image: a print of the purple robed Madonna above a mirror. She plays these two objects off of each other throughout the poem, using ambiguity to refer either to the print of the Madonna or the reflection of the live mother in the home. Madonna and Failed Mother are placed side by side for examination.

By directing spite toward the Madonna, not directly to the mother, she accuses all mothers of the desires to see their children in pain, providing an opportunity for mothers to act as comforter.  But twisted nature is shown here; the mother is not here to comfort you, but to delight in your suffering. The author warns the reader of this cruelty she has discovered.  The greed of self-fulfillment is described in the enjambment of lines 6/7:

fierce, & hungry, & full
of greed.

There are two ways to read enjambment: line by line, or by sentence. When you read it as one sentence in relation with the dominate narrative- fierce & hungry &full of greed—it describes her real face.  When taken line by line, “another” on line 5 means another person instead of another face, revealing the origin of the descriptors—Fierce. Hungry. Full.  She is of Greed. The description allows the reader to ask, “Is this the Madonna, or the Mother? All mothers or one?”

The direct shift between picture and mirror mother appears on line 15, when the author describes a situation of discomfort for the reader in which the mother would respond. A picture of the Madonna cannot do this. The Madonna described “above the mirror” may not be a picture at all, but the actual mother compared to the mother of Christ, locating her as a reflection above the mirror’s surface.  There is a gap between the ideal responsibility of Madonna and the fulfilled duty of the mother in this poem. She has the assumed job of “shining” and “being our mother,” much how the Catholic Church views Mary as a protector and intercessor. The phrase “she was put there” shows a calling that is not fulfilled, though pretended as the poem clearly depicts; just because someone is put into a position does not mean that the requirements will be met. The accomplishment of an applicant to their role is reflected in their actions.

Only three lines portray the mother as an active subject as opposed to passive object, two of these the only single lines outside of a stanza. The first (line three) “wears a mask” tells us the focus and exterior meaning of the poem: the author describes the traits of a fake and real Madonna. The second and third(lines 8-10)  reveals her intent:
            (how she wants you, little one,
            to grovel and suffer,
            how she wants you to bleed.)

  She shows intensity of desire in lines 8-10. In context to the book, this is true; the desire of the mother is for her children. But when continued with “TO grovel and suffer,” and later, “TO bleed...” we see the mother’s desire to watch her children experience the pain she has felt, or give herself a purpose by providing an opportunity as comforter. When the only action the subject of the poem takes is to deceive and destroy, the reader must be given a resolution; a way in which to cope with the harsh realities of a sadistic Madonna.

Brant commands the reader  to face this enemy, the bluntest example (line 17 /18):
            look at her eyes,
            look at her shining.

tears make her smile.
            anger makes her die.

By using reflection and repetition in the last two stanzas, she makes them stand out from the rest.   The last lines summarize the conflict of interest between the author and the subject matter: the reader already knows that tears make her smile, but the very last line is an invitation to fight back against this power which wishes “you” to grovel: become angry with her. Though there is no forgiveness offered, there is hope offered. A way to elude pain is to refuse the one who wishes to comfort the reader.

The cadence and feel of the poem has been cold, factual, and informative, much like a sergeant receiving information on how best to conduct his troops. In criticizing this drive for a mother’s need to be needed, Di Brant also provides the object of comfort a way out of a detrimental cycle: kill the woman who birthed you by severing your connection with her and watch her wither as she watched you. Through Brandt’s use of enjambment, reflection of Madonna and mirror, and repetition of sentence structure, she has provided an insight into the darker side of mother which dwells in all.  

POEM:

the purple hooded Madonna above the mirror

wears a mask.

under her smiling, benevolent face is another,

fierce, & hungry, &full of greed.

(how she wants you, little one, to grovel & suffer,

how she wants you to bleed.)

she was put there, darling, with her make-up

& her perm, to be our mother, she was put there to shine.

at night, when you’re shaking & your teeth bite dust,

look at her eyes, look at her shining.

tears make her smile. anger makes her die.

part one: bio RIPPED ROOTS

Ripped Roots

Poetry engages the reader in a new sense oft taken for granted; Language. Di Brandt may critize the methods of her strict Canadian Mennonite upbringing, but she cannot keep from loving the people of and embodying the rich flow of langue she learned. She spoke high German on Sundays, English on school days, and Low German in her home, each with their own flavor and fight in word play and meaning.

venture

check it out
www.scrapblog.com/viewer/

blank.

i have no words for you.
i want to...
i need to.

cliche?

"those are tears."
"yes they are."

voice calling

stagger, slip, strain,
kiss.

still you know
your call,
calling out
that your call
has been unanswered,
being called out
on that lie
you spin
to keep you from your own disaster.

a voice
calling
in the wind,
you wind
the clock
for 10  more minuets of minute movement
moving instead
your head
to the lies of time now past.

his call
you cry
to know.
know now
the time past
the minute spent
whining
lying
in bed
calling,
calling for a kiss.

you stagger
toward warmth,

slip to sleep
straining to keep
from what you refused for years

from what is
naught now
because you cried
against the wind
"Not NOW!"
no where
you go.
go,
go now.


nothing to wear. you stare.
now
stand and bear.

My Mother, Not Di's Mother: correlation of project and life

The book that fell into my hands for this poetry project we have all been subjected found it's way to my fumbling fingers, i do believe,  because of it's title: Mother, Not Mother. And i have to admit the cover was intriguing (we may not be able to judge the books, but we can sure be drawn in by the graphic designer's livelihood).

My mother and I have always been close, both of us questioning what she would do with herself once i was off to college and she was left to find other modes of entertainment besides my melodramatic responses to family going's on. but this past year, as there had been relationship turmoil between my parents and growth in spirituality on my father's part, i began to grow utterly impatient and disgusted with how close minded, and disrespectful she seemed to be. As i disclaimer, i must note that my mother gives and gives of her hands, time, and creativity to the church, library, and home unlike any woman i have ever saw. But i was also once a busy bee that gave of effort but not of heart.

In Di Brandt's book of poems, she expresses frustration of the mother's role in literature and also, it seems, frustrations with her own mother. I found an outlet to deal with the guise my mom seemed to be wearing that did not fit the character i saw of my best friend since childhood. But it also allowed me to appreciate my mother's shortcomings as well, many poems speaking from the persona of the mother as well.

Being a mom is frustrating, not just because of the tasks, but of the "sucking give give give" that comes with the title. When we give to others, we often forget to take care of and prune ourselves. something i discovered happening to me first semester.


We can learn a lot  from the mothers that are absent in literature (according to Di Brandt) about the need of filling needs and how giving is the glue of family, community, and culture. the people who recieve the least amount of praise often do the most work and forget that their hands are praise worthy.

tell your mother thank you, even if she seems annoying at time.