Analysis of Out of the Ash
My mother is ash
Her whole life in the trash
But her spirit
refuses to burn.
I'm like my mother
We are larger than life
And our spirits
Won't fit in an urn.
So, on the sad day
You build an altar to display
An urn full of nothing
but trash...
Know we've moved on
Our spirits are gone
We grew wings
When we rose from the ash.
| Scheme | AAXB XXXB CCXA XXXA |
|---|---|
| Poetic Form | |
| Metre | 11011 011001 1010 01011 11110 111011 01010 11011 11011 11110101 111110 11 1111 101011 111 111101 |
| Closest metre | Iambic trimeter |
| Characters | 326 |
| Words | 74 |
| Sentences | 4 |
| Stanzas | 4 |
| Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 4, 4 |
| Lines Amount | 16 |
| Letters per line (avg) | 15 |
| Words per line (avg) | 4 |
| Letters per stanza (avg) | 62 |
| Words per stanza (avg) | 17 |
About this poem
When I attended my mother's memorial service 37 years ago, it was a bit of a gut-punch to see the small urn that held her ashes. There's no way she would have ever allowed her 'spirit' to be trapped inside a jar. That wasn't her in the urn. She had already flown.
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Written on September 08, 2022
Submitted by lovingempath on September 09, 2022
Modified on April 24, 2023
- 23 sec read
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"Out of the Ash" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 8 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/139944/out-of-the-ash>.
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