Hand Me Down to die

[ChristopherSea]

final version

In Mom’s frayed wool pants,
I sweltered this summer.
The red flannel shirt
from Dad was no better.

I’m dead-head to head
with bronzing sunflowers,
wearing my Grandpa’s
tattered Fedora.

With Harvest over,
starved hoarfrost nips harder.
Stiff neck's scarcely cloaked
by Sissy’s torn muffler.

Pitied daylilies
when the bees droned their ears,
recalling abuse
through this lingering year:

Raccoon bandits struck
beneath veil of darkness.
A throng of magpies
pinched my fancy buttons.

Relentless sparrows
tore away at my threads,
not seeking consent
before lining their nests.

Deer gnawed shamelessly
on my hat made of hemp.
Voles carted away
the dry husks of my flesh.

All faith in me lost,
with my chores forsaken,
yet everyone knew
that crows would not frighten.


le/bil/tru/tec/tod final version 4.0 Thank you!

------------------------------

Hand Me Down to die

original

In Mom’s frayed wool pants,
I sweltered this summer.
The red flannel shirt
from Dad was no better.

I’m dead-head to head
with bronzing sunflowers,
wearing my Grandpa’s
shabby straw Fedora.

With Harvest over,
starved hoarfrost nips harder.
Stiff neck's bare beneath
Sissy’s moth-worn muffler.

Pitied daylilies
when the bees droned their ears
recalling abuse
through this lingering year:

Rabble of magpies
pinched my fancy buttons.
Rowdy masked bandits
struck in cloak of darkness.

Relentless sparrows,
brusquely tore away threads,
not seeking consent
before lining their nests.

Deer gnawed needlessly
at my hat made of hemp.
Voles carted away
the dry husks of my flesh.

All faith in me lost,
with my chores forsaken,
yet everyone knew
that crows would not frighten.

[Leanne]

The final lines of this gave me quite a chill, Chris. The crow metaphor, when done properly, is exceedingly powerful -- and this has been built very well indeed.

The first thing I noticed on reading was the strong meter. Though the syllables vary, there are two beats to each line and because I enjoy things like that, personally I'd love to see it smoothed over in a couple of places (the bits where I have some awkwardness are: "shabby straw Fedora", "Sissy's moth-worn muffler", "brusquely tore away threads" -- I can get them to fit the meter but they end up oddly stressed).

The overwhelming image I'm left with is a poor child as a scarecrow. It's harrowing.

[ChristopherSea]

Thank you very much Leanne! I am over-joyed that I made teacher proud, ha ha... Yes, the lines are alternate 5/6 syls with near rhymes and it almost killed me. I can get through brusquely maybe, but those ssSssSsss bumps rubbed me as well. I will work on all three lines again. I am glad you caught the metaphor and impact. Going after the hat, scarf and threads now...


You know what Leanne, I think it's the two syllable count of the first word in each one of those lines that is throwing us off. They all have 1st syl stresses too. what do you think?

I am getting the iron out after dinner.

[ChristopherSea]

This version has better meter.

[tectak]

Version 2

In Mom’s frayed wool pants,
I sweltered this summer.
The red flannel shirt
from Dad was no better.

I’m dead-head to head
with bronzing sunflowers,
wearing my Grandpa’s
tattered Fedora.

With Harvest over,
starved hoarfrost nips harder.
Stiff neck's scarcely cloaked
by Sissy’s torn muffler.

Pitied daylilies
when the bees droned their ears
recalling abuse
through this lingering year:

Rabble of magpies
pinched my fancy buttons.
Rowdy masked bandits
struck in veil of darkness.

Relentless sparrows,
cruelling tore away threads,tore threads away cruelly?
not seeking consent
before lining their nests.

Deer gnawed needlessly
at my hat made of hemp.
Voles carted away
the dry husks of my flesh.

All faith in me lost,
with my chores forsaken,
yet everyone knew
that crows would not frighten.

A big yes to this. There are unmetaphorical metaphors (the best kind!) stretched comfortably over each stanza. An element of discomfort pervades the whole thing and is tinglingly delicious. An excellent piece.

[ChristopherSea]

Version 2

In Mom’s frayed wool pants,
I sweltered this summer.
The red flannel shirt
from Dad was no better.

I’m deadhead to head
with bronzing sunflowers,
wearing my Grandpa’s
tattered Fedora.

With Harvest over,
starved hoarfrost nips harder.
Stiff neck's scarcely cloaked
by Sissy’s torn muffler.

Pitied daylilies
when the bees droned their ears
recalling abuse
through this lingering year:

Rabble of magpies
pinched my fancy buttons.
Rowdy masked bandits
struck in veil of darkness.

Relentless sparrows,
cruelling tore away threads,tore threads away cruelly?
not seeking consent
before lining their nests.

Deer gnawed needlessly
at my hat made of hemp.
Voles carted away
the dry husks of my flesh.

All faith in me lost,
with my chores forsaken,
yet everyone knew
that crows would not frighten.

A big yes to this. There are unmetaphorical metaphors (the best kind!) stretched comfortably over each stanza. An element of discomfort pervades the whole thing and is tinglingly delicious. An excellent piece.

Thank for your kind words and recognition of the work that I put into this tectak. I will certainly consider the suggestion of yours! That particular line was a problem spot for some reason.

[Leanne]

Meter's much better, nice edit Chris

[billy]

i never saw version 1

so i can't say if the edit's any good :J: (when you edit just tack it on to the original in the 1st and last post)

foolishly i read other feedback but unlike them i took the bugger literally i read the poem from the point of view of the scarecrow with an anthropomorphic slant. it starts off very warm and ends with a poe like coldness.
there were a couple of nits but it still reads great as it stands.

thanks for the read.

yes... after a few more reads i see the scarecrow as an entity, you gave it life.

Version 2

In Mom’s frayed wool pants,
I sweltered this summer.
The red flannel shirt
from Dad was no better.

I’m dead-head to head
with bronzing sunflowers,
wearing my Grandpa’s
tattered Fedora.

With Harvest over,
starved hoarfrost nips harder.
Stiff neck's scarcely cloaked
by Sissy’s torn muffler. the whole image of this stanza is almost beautiful

Pitied daylilies
when the bees droned their ears is 'the' needed? and the answer is yes it is, in order to keep the meter going, so disregard the question
recalling abuse
through this lingering year:

Rabble of magpies
pinched my fancy buttons.
Rowdy masked bandits
struck in veil of darkness.

Relentless sparrows,
cruelling tore away threads, cruelling isn't a word i've heard before, though i do like the sound of it. that said, i can't make this line work
not seeking consent
before lining their nests.

Deer gnawed needlessly
at my hat made of hemp.
Voles carted away
the dry husks of my flesh. another cracker

All faith in me lost,
with my chores forsaken,
yet everyone knew
that crows would not frighten. great ending all i can say is a fuckin loved it.

[ChristopherSea]

i never saw version 1

so i can't say if the edit's any good :J: (when you edit just tack it on to the original in the 1st and last post)

foolishly i read other feedback but unlike them i took the bugger literally i read the poem from the point of view of the scarecrow with an anthropomorphic slant. it starts off very warm and ends with a poe like coldness.
there were a couple of nits but it still reads great as it stands.

thanks for the read.

yes... after a few more reads i see the scarecrow as an entity, you gave it life.

Version 2

In Mom’s frayed wool pants,
I sweltered this summer.
The red flannel shirt
from Dad was no better.

I’m dead-head to head
with bronzing sunflowers,
wearing my Grandpa’s
tattered Fedora.

With Harvest over,
starved hoarfrost nips harder.
Stiff neck's scarcely cloaked
by Sissy’s torn muffler. the whole image of this stanza is almost beautiful

Pitied daylilies
when the bees droned their ears is 'the' needed? and the answer is yes it is, in order to keep the meter going, so disregard the question
recalling abuse
through this lingering year:

Rabble of magpies
pinched my fancy buttons.
Rowdy masked bandits
struck in veil of darkness.

Relentless sparrows,
cruelling tore away threads, cruelling isn't a word i've heard before, though i do like the sound of it. that said, i can't make this line work
not seeking consent
before lining their nests.

Deer gnawed needlessly
at my hat made of hemp.
Voles carted away
the dry husks of my flesh. another cracker

All faith in me lost,
with my chores forsaken,
yet everyone knew
that crows would not frighten. great ending all i can say is a fuckin loved it.

Thanks for catching that typo Billy. 'creully' is correct and 'brusquely' was their original. I believe the metaphor does play both ways. As a true scarecrow, it rings with futility and then deep sadness and as child, more horrific. I appreciate you reading this and your feedback. I put the original up for you.

---

Meter's much better, nice edit Chris

Thank so much for the help Leanne!

[Apophrades]

final
I’m dead-head to head
with bronzing sunflowers,
wearing my Grandpa’s
tattered Fedora.

I don't have anything else to add that hasn't been covered. Just one issue, though maybe it's just me. When I read "I'm dead-head to head", I actually read "dead-head" as joined words. Is this intentional? Maybe make the dash longer, or put a space, like: "dead — head".

I'm glad you decided to give it some touch ups, the meter is good now in the final .

[ChristopherSea]

final
I’m dead-head to head
with bronzing sunflowers,
wearing my Grandpa’s
tattered Fedora.

I don't have anything else to add that hasn't been covered. Just one issue, though maybe it's just me. When I read "I'm dead-head to head", I actually read "dead-head" as joined words. Is this intentional? Maybe make the dash longer, or put a space, like: "dead — head".

I'm glad you decided to give it some touch ups, the meter is good now in the final .

Thank you kindly for stopping by to read my piece and commenting! I see your point. It may read like the suffer was into the 'Grateful Dead' ha ha, but deadhead (verb) is a gardening term referring to cutting back spent flowers to stimulate new growth. So there's some play on words and double entendre at play with 'dead-head to head'. However, I'll relook at it once again in the light of your read, ie 'I am dead, head to head' which may work as well.

My question to the reader is, did it move you in any way?

[ChristopherSea]

final
I’m dead-head to head
with bronzing sunflowers,
wearing my Grandpa’s
tattered Fedora.

I don't have anything else to add that hasn't been covered. Just one issue, though maybe it's just me. When I read "I'm dead-head to head", I actually read "dead-head" as joined words. Is this intentional? Maybe make the dash longer, or put a space, like: "dead — head".

I'm glad you decided to give it some touch ups, the meter is good now in the final .

Thank you kindly for stopping by to read my piece and commenting! I see your point. It may read like the sufferer was into the 'Grateful Dead' ha ha, but deadhead (verb) is a gardening term referring to cutting back spent flowers to stimulate new growth. I'll relook at it though in the light of your read, ie 'I am dead, head to head' which may work as well.

Good meter is fine, but it doesn't matter to me if that was all that folks saw herein. My question to the reader is, did it move you in any way?

[Truerenigma]

This is an interesting introspection on family life. The metaphors are all quite apt. About "cruelling", imo, a big part of poetry it's wrangling nouns and verbs and hogtying them to your purpose, and in this case it's easy enough to understand, but I'm just not convinced that there's not a better verb out there. Some may disagree, and it's your poem.

I can find nothing else to pick at. I really enjoyed the poem.
The "hemp hat" stanza gave me mixed pangs of pleasant memories and rose-pricks.

Thanks for sharing.

[ChristopherSea]

Thank you trueE for catching the typo, that should have been cruelly, but the edit did not seem take! Pangs of pleasantries and rose-pricks indeed my friend. Don't be smoking any hemp hats, they are way too harsh, ha ha.... I appreciate you reading this one and sharing your impressions with me.

[tectak]

final version

In Mom’s frayed wool pants,
I sweltered this summer.
The red flannel shirt
from Dad was no better.

I’m dead-head to head
with bronzing sunflowers,
wearing my Grandpa’s
tattered Fedora.

With Harvest over,
starved hoarfrost nips harder.
Stiff neck's scarcely cloaked
by Sissy’s torn muffler.

Pitied daylilies
when the bees droned their ears
recalling abuse
through this lingering year:

Rabble of magpies
pinched my fancy buttons.
Rowdy masked bandits
struck in veil of darkness.

Relentless sparrows,
cruelly tore away threads,
not seeking consent
before lining their nests.

Deer gnawed needlessly
at my hat made of hemp.
Voles carted away
the dry husks of my flesh.

All faith in me lost,
with my chores forsaken,
yet everyone knew
that crows would not frighten.


le/bil/tru/tec final version 3.1 Thank you!

------------------------------

Hand Me Down to die

original

In Mom’s frayed wool pants,
I sweltered this summer.
The red flannel shirt
from Dad was no better.

I’m dead-head to head
with bronzing sunflowers,
wearing my Grandpa’s
shabby straw Fedora.

With Harvest over,
starved hoarfrost nips harder.
Stiff neck's bare beneath
Sissy’s moth-worn muffler.

Pitied daylilies
when the bees droned their ears
recalling abuse
through this lingering year:

Rabble of magpies
pinched my fancy buttons.
Rowdy masked bandits
struck in cloak of darkness.

Relentless sparrows,
brusquely tore away threads,
not seeking consent
before lining their nests.

Deer gnawed needlessly
at my hat made of hemp.
Voles carted away
the dry husks of my flesh.

All faith in me lost,
with my chores forsaken,
yet everyone knew
that crows would not frighten.

Hi Chris,
Croo/ell/lee. Pesky anapests! That's why I went for "Tore threads away cru/ell/lee". "Brusquely tore away the threads" works; there are still some stumbling lines though not quite like logs falling down a flight of stairs. Your poem and very good it is, too.
Best,
tectak

[ChristopherSea]

final version

In Mom’s frayed wool pants,
I sweltered this summer.
The red flannel shirt
from Dad was no better.

I’m dead-head to head
with bronzing sunflowers,
wearing my Grandpa’s
tattered Fedora.

With Harvest over,
starved hoarfrost nips harder.
Stiff neck's scarcely cloaked
by Sissy’s torn muffler.

Pitied daylilies
when the bees droned their ears
recalling abuse
through this lingering year:

Rabble of magpies
pinched my fancy buttons.
Rowdy masked bandits
struck in veil of darkness.

Relentless sparrows,
cruelly tore away threads,
not seeking consent
before lining their nests.

Deer gnawed needlessly
at my hat made of hemp.
Voles carted away
the dry husks of my flesh.

All faith in me lost,
with my chores forsaken,
yet everyone knew
that crows would not frighten.


le/bil/tru/tec final version 3.1 Thank you!

------------------------------

Hand Me Down to die

original

In Mom’s frayed wool pants,
I sweltered this summer.
The red flannel shirt
from Dad was no better.

I’m dead-head to head
with bronzing sunflowers,
wearing my Grandpa’s
shabby straw Fedora.

With Harvest over,
starved hoarfrost nips harder.
Stiff neck's bare beneath
Sissy’s moth-worn muffler.

Pitied daylilies
when the bees droned their ears
recalling abuse
through this lingering year:

Rabble of magpies
pinched my fancy buttons.
Rowdy masked bandits
struck in cloak of darkness.

Relentless sparrows,
brusquely tore away threads,
not seeking consent
before lining their nests.

Deer gnawed needlessly
at my hat made of hemp.
Voles carted away
the dry husks of my flesh.

All faith in me lost,
with my chores forsaken,
yet everyone knew
that crows would not frighten.

Hi Chris,
Croo/ell/lee. Pesky anapests! That's why I went for "Tore threads away cru/ell/lee". "Brusquely tore away the threads" works; there are still some stumbling lines though not quite like logs falling down a flight of stairs. Your poem and very good it is, too.
Best,
tectak

Oh shoot, nice catch Tom! I was trying to maintain the slant rhyme threads/nests by changing the first word alone. Putting Brusquely will have Leanne in a twist. Gonna find another word methinks.

---

final version

In Mom’s frayed wool pants,
I sweltered this summer.
The red flannel shirt
from Dad was no better.

I’m dead-head to head
with bronzing sunflowers,
wearing my Grandpa’s
tattered Fedora.

With Harvest over,
starved hoarfrost nips harder.
Stiff neck's scarcely cloaked
by Sissy’s torn muffler.

Pitied daylilies
when the bees droned their ears
recalling abuse
through this lingering year:

Rabble of magpies
pinched my fancy buttons.
Rowdy masked bandits
struck in veil of darkness.

Relentless sparrows,
cruelly tore away threads,
not seeking consent
before lining their nests.

Deer gnawed needlessly
at my hat made of hemp.
Voles carted away
the dry husks of my flesh.

All faith in me lost,
with my chores forsaken,
yet everyone knew
that crows would not frighten.


le/bil/tru/tec final version 3.1 Thank you!

------------------------------

Hand Me Down to die

original

In Mom’s frayed wool pants,
I sweltered this summer.
The red flannel shirt
from Dad was no better.

I’m dead-head to head
with bronzing sunflowers,
wearing my Grandpa’s
shabby straw Fedora.

With Harvest over,
starved hoarfrost nips harder.
Stiff neck's bare beneath
Sissy’s moth-worn muffler.

Pitied daylilies
when the bees droned their ears
recalling abuse
through this lingering year:

Rabble of magpies
pinched my fancy buttons.
Rowdy masked bandits
struck in cloak of darkness.

Relentless sparrows,
brusquely tore away threads,
not seeking consent
before lining their nests.

Deer gnawed needlessly
at my hat made of hemp.
Voles carted away
the dry husks of my flesh.

All faith in me lost,
with my chores forsaken,
yet everyone knew
that crows would not frighten.

Hi Chris,
Croo/ell/lee. Pesky anapests! That's why I went for "Tore threads away cru/ell/lee". "Brusquely tore away the threads" works; there are still some stumbling lines though not quite like logs falling down a flight of stairs. Your poem and very good it is, too.
Best,
tectak

Oh shoot, nice catch Tom! I was trying to maintain the slant rhyme threads/nests by changing the first word alone. Putting Brusquely will have Leanne in a twist. Gonna find another word methinks.

HARSHLY

[Todd]

Hello Christopher,

It's always interesting to approach a workshopped poem when it has passed through the gauntlet already. I doubt I'll have much to add at this point.

I loved the title. It was evocative. It played well with the idea of generations of family leaving parts of themselves in the field for that scarecrow. It fits with the idea of sowing and reaping and the inevitable passage of years. It placed me in the right frame of mind for the poem.

The line comments will be minor as I didn't see much I'd look to change (and those may be more stylistic choices than ones of substance).

final version

In Mom’s frayed wool pants,
I sweltered this summer.--Sweltered was nice personification. I like the added element of the scarecrow being uncomfortable
The red flannel shirt
from Dad was no better.

I’m dead-head to head
with bronzing sunflowers,--Bronzing is a wonderful word choice.
wearing my Grandpa’s--Like the generational element. The fact that its tattered but still a symbol of family and continuity
tattered Fedora.

With Harvest over,
starved hoarfrost nips harder.
Stiff neck's scarcely cloaked
by Sissy’s torn muffler.--Like the more affectionate term for sister to show connection and a sense of closeness

Pitied daylilies
when the bees droned their ears--One of my favorite lines. I love the phrasing, and again the personification
recalling abuse--This is a nice echo, a mirror of sorts, the cast off clothing is an echo of family for the scarecrow whereas pollination carries a harsher echo for the daylilies
through this lingering year:

Rabble of magpies--While I like the alliterative R, I was a bit put off by rabble of magpies. I hit a line phrased like this and I think murder of crows, unkindness of ravens, tiding of magpies (though magpies has some alternates I know)...minor point. No change really required, it just popped me out of the poem for a moment
pinched my fancy buttons.--pinched is such a great word here. As it implies theft and the actual physical act. You have a great economy to your words
Rowdy masked bandits
struck in veil of darkness.--This could just be me but in veil of darkness feels like it should be under veil of darkness. I realize that throws the line of somewhat, but the preposition feels off to me

Relentless sparrows,
harshly tore away threads,--I feel like there are too many modifiers in theses last two lines. Relentless and harshly specifically. I'd like to see the same economy you used with pinched. Maybe comparing the sparrows to sewing needles unmaking him. Not sure about that just thinking out loud, but losing the modifiers and showing them through the verbs would be what I'd consider doing
not seeking consent
before lining their nests.

Deer gnawed needlessly
at my hat made of hemp.--The fedora made of hemp is a nice addition
Voles carted away
the dry husks of my flesh.--This is so much more effective than the earlier sparrows or even deer line for its lack of modifiers. The line has a crisp sadness to it. One of my favorites

All faith in me lost,
with my chores forsaken,
yet everyone knew
that crows would not frighten.--I like the sonics and the ending. It feels complete.

le/bil/tru/tec final version 3.1 Thank you!

Not sure if any of that was helpful, but I hope it was. I enjoyed the read.

Best,

Todd

[ChristopherSea]

Hello Christopher,

It's always interesting to approach a workshopped poem when it has passed through the gauntlet already. I doubt I'll have much to add at this point.

I loved the title. It was evocative. It played well with the idea of generations of family leaving parts of themselves in the field for that scarecrow. It fits with the idea of sowing and reaping and the inevitable passage of years. It placed me in the right frame of mind for the poem.

The line comments will be minor as I didn't see much I'd look to change (and those may be more stylistic choices than ones of substance).

final version

In Mom’s frayed wool pants,
I sweltered this summer.--Sweltered was nice personification. I like the added element of the scarecrow being uncomfortable
The red flannel shirt
from Dad was no better.

I’m dead-head to head
with bronzing sunflowers,--Bronzing is a wonderful word choice.
wearing my Grandpa’s--Like the generational element. The fact that its tattered but still a symbol of family and continuity
tattered Fedora.

With Harvest over,
starved hoarfrost nips harder.
Stiff neck's scarcely cloaked
by Sissy’s torn muffler.--Like the more affectionate term for sister to show connection and a sense of closeness

Pitied daylilies
when the bees droned their ears--One of my favorite lines. I love the phrasing, and again the personification
recalling abuse--This is a nice echo, a mirror of sorts, the cast off clothing is an echo of family for the scarecrow whereas pollination carries a harsher echo for the daylilies
through this lingering year:

Rabble of magpies--While I like the alliterative R, I was a bit put off by rabble of magpies. I hit a line phrased like this and I think murder of crows, unkindness of ravens, tiding of magpies (though magpies has some alternates I know)...minor point. No change really required, it just popped me out of the poem for a moment
pinched my fancy buttons.--pinched is such a great word here. As it implies theft and the actual physical act. You have a great economy to your words
Rowdy masked bandits
struck in veil of darkness.--This could just be me but in veil of darkness feels like it should be under veil of darkness. I realize that throws the line of somewhat, but the preposition feels off to me

Relentless sparrows,
harshly tore away threads,--I feel like there are too many modifiers in theses last two lines. Relentless and harshly specifically. I'd like to see the same economy you used with pinched. Maybe comparing the sparrows to sewing needles unmaking him. Not sure about that just thinking out loud, but losing the modifiers and showing them through the verbs would be what I'd consider doing
not seeking consent
before lining their nests.

Deer gnawed needlessly
at my hat made of hemp.--The fedora made of hemp is a nice addition
Voles carted away
the dry husks of my flesh.--This is so much more effective than the earlier sparrows or even deer line for its lack of modifiers. The line has a crisp sadness to it. One of my favorites

All faith in me lost,
with my chores forsaken,
yet everyone knew
that crows would not frighten.--I like the sonics and the ending. It feels complete.

le/bil/tru/tec final version 3.1 Thank you!

Not sure if any of that was helpful, but I hope it was. I enjoyed the read.

Best,

Todd

Yes, it is helpful indeed Todd! Much obliged for you reading my poem, taking the time to critique it and your excellent suggestions. I shall review the poem once again through your lens. Thank you so much!/Chris

Todd, what do you think of simply: Relentless sparrows tore away at my threads.