Analyzing No Time

Posted by Emily M. | March 3, 2008 | 5 Comments

I’ve got ten minutes until my kids’ show ends, ten minutes to write about Johnna Benson Cornett’s poem, “No Time.” And I want to do something a bit different–I want to talk about some stylistic things in the poem that I just love. So go read it here, or scroll to the bottom of the post, and then come back so we can talk about it.

I love how she begins with the word “pressed,” all by itself, so that we feel the weight of the word. I like the repetition of “sleeping and eating,” which repeats three times in the first stanza, and then in the fourth stanza. To me that conveys the relentlessness of mothering, especially a new baby: there is the sleeping and eating, it repeats over and over, and you feel like that’s all you do. I love the images she uses: “a net spun of my breath;” “an egg from my mouth / an incomplete magic;” “talk, like castles and ships made of smoke,” and, of course, the brilliant final stanza, “make me some time / knit it of yarn / spin it of lint.”

I love the way the poem moves from pressing duties, to the things there’s no time for–no time even for talk, to the wistful wish to have a cloak of time knit. I love the way she alludes to Adam and Eve–before they had children, in the garden, they were given the gift of speech, one not given to dumb beasts, and yet when we exercise our gift to create (and especially, especially with a new baby) we talk in snatches. No time for a lengthy-drawn out conversation.

I love the sounds in the last stanza, the short I vowels, which add to the rushed feeling–”knit it of yarn, spin it of lint.” They hurry the stanza along, which is what you would expect of a poem about not having enough time.

And, because of all these things, and more that I don’t have time to mention, the poem captures perfectly the pressure I feel on a day when I am pressed for the eating and sleeping and care of the young.

Read it and tell me what you think!

No Time

by Johnna Benson Cornett

pressed
for the sleeping and eating,
care of the young and
the sleeping and eating,
duties of shelter,
to keep it clean and warm,
and lit and locked and live
and all the wordless aspects
of errands and urgencies,
without details, lacking words,
and the sleeping and eating
and

No time
no time to hold it all
in a net spun of my breath
greater than my arms.
no time
for structure of words
pronunciation of dream
a home for the future
like an egg from my mouth,
an incomplete magic.
no time for the keening of my heart
my wistful whispers, my love,
my hoped-for ghost
reach beyond reaching
no time.

no time
for the first gift
upon Adam and Eve,
speaking, even in paradise,
to each other and God,
what comfort then,
even before suffering.

the gift not given
to dumb beasts
pressed in their
eating and sleeping
care of the young
and muted thoughts.

no time for
the trailing touch of love
and talk, like castles and ships
made of smoke
that rises together.
where is my home
where is my resting hope place
no time
no time.

Make me some time
knit it of yarn
spin it of lint
collected from corners
woolgather
gather me
knit me a covering
shirt sweater shawl
wrap me in your time
wrap me in time.

Category: Daily Special

Comments

5 Responses to “Analyzing No Time”

Jenn
March 3rd, 2008 @ 8:22 pm

This poem makes me want to cry, not because it’s necessarily sad or melancholy, but because it totally captures the both the joy and sacrifice that comes with motherhood. I love the stanza with “dumb beast” because that is just what you feel reduced to (at times) with very young children; merely fulfilling life’s necessities. And the ending stanza is also so poignant. The voice is almost begging for time, desperate enough to take it from any source, even the lint in the corner. I loved the poem.
Kristen
March 3rd, 2008 @ 8:56 pm

I like how the poem makes me feel the many contradictory emotions that accompany motherhood: you feel exhausted, yet there are moments of exquisite joy. You feel like there is no end to the nursing/feeding, yet the wonder of it all makes it somehow okay that there is so much silence around you in those early days.

Emily, you’ve done a great analysis that any formalist would be proud of! You’ve pointed out some terrific things about the beauty of Johnna’s style here.
Emily M.
March 3rd, 2008 @ 10:31 pm

Jenn, when I read it to the ladies in my Enrichment writing class they loved the part about the lint in the corner, too.

Kristen, thanks! I appreciate that–I am at heart a formalist. And, more than any other type of criticism, I think formalism benefits writers. Not that style should be what you first think of when you write, but I think an awareness of it can help your writing, more than an awareness of another school of criticism might.
Angela
March 3rd, 2008 @ 10:55 pm

Ahh, how I love this poem. It’s complicated enough for a formal analysis, but simple and beautiful, as well. Rich yet accessible. Plus it makes me feel like I want to cry.
rainsplats
March 28th, 2008 @ 11:28 am

..and that’s why date night is so important!

This poem speaks from my heart. I wish she’d spoken more directly about the hopelessness that comes when everything you do is undone or needs to be redone within hours. It’s hard to feel like you’ve accomplished anything.

It’s hard to remember other moms feel that same “I want to be me again” feeling…when you can barely remember who you are or what you’d want to play if you suddenly had a free day.

Motherhood holds great rewards, but that feeling of losing yourself in it is always there. Tiny sometimes, but there. But if I don’t meet my children’s needs, no one will.

I always thought I was more lazy than this. But I find myself putting their needs before mine. I’m not a fantastic mom, but when my 3-yo boy smiles, his whole body glows with joy. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do to see it again and again.

I still call my mom when my world is crashing. I still get sad when she goes out of town.