Ariadne’s Notes: A fun filled and fascinating evening radio show featuring Roger Blenman with hosts Ariadne Sawyer and Jaz Gill. Roger read from his new book to be launched December 6 at a studio is Granville Island. Also featured was the news that Sharon Rowe had finally published her book the Big Bessie Stories.
A powerful poem by Katherine Gordon:On Burnaby Mountain We Make Our Last Stand about the protestors on Burnaby Mountain To hear the show: CLICK HERE!
Open House & Book Launch
Dead’er by Roger R. Blenman & When the River Wakes Up by Alyson Quinn
Readings at 2, 4, & 7 pm, with book signings
December 6th, 2014
Dalbergia Studio – Wood and Fine Objects
1333 Railspur Avenue,
Granville Island, Vancouver BC
info@rogerblenman.com
This is a free event. All are welcome.
Readings at 2, 4, & 7 pm, with book signings
Roger Blenman is a Barbadian-born, Afro-Caribbean, Canadian. He loves athletics, literature, and travel. He teaches mathematics and science. His work is infused with rhythms from Caribbean, Afro-American, and mainstream Canadian cultures. Urbanity, social causes, race, sexuality, spirituality, rhyme, and politics infect his writing. He lives in Toronto and now Vancouver. Roger is also a poet and author.
My mother
My mother
wasn’t one of those
other mothers
other mothers
drove minivans
dropped us off at soccer practice
went off to have their hair done
you’d have to compliment them
when they picked you up
nice waves Carol
beautiful bangs Susan
other mothers would smile
put a modest hand to their head
oh really
you think so
almost touching their head
they waver across the lane
so we’d shut up
till we got to our subdivision
my mother
wasn’t like that
other mothers
made kids call them
by their first names
Alison’s mother wanted you
to call her Carol
Barbara’s mother, Susan
once I called Candi’s mother, Candi’s mother
it was a mistake
she stared so hard
I thought I’d done something wrong
like broke something
or told a lie
which I did
Sorry Annette, I said.
My mother drove
a station wagon
so old the name had fallen off the grill
and left holes in the chrome
like the gaps in her teeth
my mother did her own hair
straightened it every two weeks
if you said anything
she’d say
I could do yours for you
that made you shut up
my mother was
a wooden spoon in one hand
hand on the hip
hips to one side
mouth to the other
You think you’re talking to a fool?
kind of a mother
no mother
you’d say
Once upon a time
my mother had a first name
for a long time I thought
secretly,
that it and her sense of humor
had atrophied from disuse
or had been lost in a fire
she and her best friend
always call each other girl
and then they laugh
It must be an old habit
from even before
I was born
Let’s be friends
says Susan
tell me the boys you like
Barbara acts like she believes her
talks about the sleepy-eyed forward
on the basketball team
he’s too popular for words
when it’s my turn
I shake my head
I picture my mother asking
What has he done for you?
I’m embarrassed
once, he stepped out of the way
when I nearly fell going up the stairs
you can tell me anything
says Annette
even if you’re in trouble
when I picture my mother
she’s got her arms folded
girls ought to have their privacy
says Carol
backing out of Alison’s room
my mother
has never said the word privacy
in my hearing
once I sneezed going into Carol’s house
it’s tropical potpourri, she said
I never wear black to Susan’s house
not since they got the two cats
it’s because she wants another baby
whispered Barbara
our house smells like something to eat
animals belong in the yard, my mother says
Once I asked my mother
if she had wanted another baby
no darling, she turned away from the stove
I got all I can handle with you
Roger Blenman ©
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