mother

[cjchaffin]

edit #1:


My mother was a warrior,
wielding wooden spoons
like weapons of mass construction.
 
We four would tug on her apron,
tell her how pretty she was
so we could have more pancakes.
 
She would laugh and chase us
down the hall, a giantess
with crazy wood appendages.
 
Now she is simply small and fragile,
spoons at rest, hands clutching an afghan.
She naps in the heat of the day,

dreaming of her own warrior mother;
I pull the blanket over bony shoulders
and push silver hair behind her ear.



original:

I used to think of her
as being larger than life—
beautiful in her righteous anger,
frightening with her quiet, resounding stares—
a warm, comforting shell

filled with cool, steely resolve.
She was so many different adjectives
and I could fill pages describing her.
Now she is simply small and fragile,
asleep on the couch with a thin afghan.

She naps in the heat of the day
and dreams of her own mother.
She smiles with her eyes closed
as I pull the blanket over bony shoulders,
push silver hair behind her ear.

[Tiger the Lion]

*i'd like some help cleaning this up.
it feels awfully wordy and overly descriptive to me
but i need to step away from it for a bit.
also, i'm not sure about the em dashes...do they work or not?
thanks in advance!*

Hey CJ. Based on your preface I'm just gonna go through and see what I see.

I used to think of her
as being larger than life— too cliche for you. I think the dash is fine although it could as easily be a semicolon (I think)
beautiful in her righteous anger,might not need "her" again
frightening with her quiet, resounding stares—this one I like as a dash since the sentence continues into the next stanza.
a warm, comforting shell

filled with cool, steely resolve.steely cool maybe?
She was so many different adjectivesperhaps wordy here. "She was so many different" --- I won't make a specific suggestion, but you need to find your word for "so many different".
and I could fill pages describing her.
Now she is simply small and fragile,do you need "simply"?
asleep on the couch with a thin afghan.

She naps in the heat of the day
and dreams of her own mother.I think I see why you need the word "own" here. Maybe
She smiles with her eyes closed
as I pull the blanket over bony shoulders,Mostly me here, but I want the comma after shoulders to be an "and". Sound it out-see how you feel.
push silver hair behind her ear.

Hope some of that helps. Went into this one blind as per your being stuck. Good luck with it. I like it. - Paul

[Todd]

Hi,

Okay, let's start with title. Its flat. After reading this a number of times, I think you have a line in your poem that makes a better title and might help direct your thoughts.

She Was So Many Different Adjectives

Now maybe mix it up. The adjectives actually hurt the piece. Here's some ideas to consider. What if you used that title and than played against it.

Just for illustration:

L1 that now seem so inadequate.
L2 (take one of your adjectives) Small and fragile
became her asleep on the couch
wrapped in a thin afghan.

Or lose the adjectives entirely and just move from image to image

Just something to consider

I do like your last strophe quite a bit because the action gives the scene more poignance.

Nearly all the rest of it should probably be reworked savagely.

Hope the comments help.

Best,

Todd

I used to think of her
as being larger than life—
beautiful in her righteous anger,
frightening with her quiet, resounding stares—
a warm, comforting shell

filled with cool, steely resolve.
She was so many different adjectives
and I could fill pages describing her.
Now she is simply small and fragile,
asleep on the couch with a thin afghan.

She naps in the heat of the day
and dreams of her own mother.
She smiles with her eyes closed
as I pull the blanket over bony shoulders,
push silver hair behind her ear.

[71degrees]

*i'd like some help cleaning this up.
it feels awfully wordy and overly descriptive to me
but i need to step away from it for a bit.
also, i'm not sure about the em dashes...do they work or not?
thanks in advance!*

I used to think of her
as being larger than life—
beautiful in her righteous anger,
frightening with her quiet, resounding stares—
a warm, comforting shell

filled with cool, steely resolve.
She was so many different adjectives
and I could fill pages describing her.
Now she is simply small and fragile,
asleep on the couch with a thin afghan.

She naps in the heat of the day
and dreams of her own mother.
She smiles with her eyes closed
as I pull the blanket over bony shoulders,
push silver hair behind her ear.

The first two stanzas are all "telling"….they are abstract and say nothing specific about your mother. By the time you get around to showing me your mother "napping" in the heat of the day, you have lost me.  Not so much a job of "cleaning up" but making a mess in the first place so we have something to discuss.  Love the picture that develops toward the end of stanza #2 and continues into stanza #3 (why the break?) but the first stanza and 3/4 are lost on me.  

[cjchaffin]

*i'd like some help cleaning this up.
it feels awfully wordy and overly descriptive to me
but i need to step away from it for a bit.
also, i'm not sure about the em dashes...do they work or not?
thanks in advance!*

Hey CJ. Based on your preface I'm just gonna go through and see what I see.

I used to think of her
as being larger than life— too cliche for you. I think the dash is fine although it could as easily be a semicolon (I think)
beautiful in her righteous anger,might not need "her" again
frightening with her quiet, resounding stares—this one I like as a dash since the sentence continues into the next stanza.
a warm, comforting shell

filled with cool, steely resolve.steely cool maybe?
She was so many different adjectivesperhaps wordy here. "She was so many different" --- I won't make a specific suggestion, but you need to find your word for "so many different".
and I could fill pages describing her.
Now she is simply small and fragile,do you need "simply"?
asleep on the couch with a thin afghan.

She naps in the heat of the day
and dreams of her own mother.I think I see why you need the word "own" here. Maybe
She smiles with her eyes closed
as I pull the blanket over bony shoulders,Mostly me here, but I want the comma after shoulders to be an "and". Sound it out-see how you feel.
push silver hair behind her ear.

Hope some of that helps. Went into this one blind as per your being stuck. Good luck with it. I like it. - Paul

thanks Paul, that was helpful indeed. gracias.

[cjchaffin]

Hi,

Okay, let's start with title. Its flat. After reading this a number of times, I think you have a line in your poem that makes a better title and might help direct your thoughts.

She Was So Many Different Adjectives

Now maybe mix it up. The adjectives actually hurt the piece. Here's some ideas to consider. What if you used that title and than played against it.

Just for illustration:

L1 that now seem so inadequate.
L2 (take one of your adjectives) Small and fragile
became her asleep on the couch
wrapped in a thin afghan.

Or lose the adjectives entirely and just move from image to image

Just something to consider

I do like your last strophe quite a bit because the action gives the scene more poignance.

Nearly all the rest of it should probably be reworked savagely.

Hope the comments help.

Best,

Todd

I used to think of her
as being larger than life—
beautiful in her righteous anger,
frightening with her quiet, resounding stares—
a warm, comforting shell

filled with cool, steely resolve.
She was so many different adjectives
and I could fill pages describing her.
Now she is simply small and fragile,
asleep on the couch with a thin afghan.

She naps in the heat of the day
and dreams of her own mother.
She smiles with her eyes closed
as I pull the blanket over bony shoulders,
push silver hair behind her ear.

absolutely, Todd. i was thinking of scrapping the first strophe entirely and starting in the second. thank you so much for the feedback. and i'll think on a different title as well. 

[cjchaffin]

*i'd like some help cleaning this up.
it feels awfully wordy and overly descriptive to me
but i need to step away from it for a bit.
also, i'm not sure about the em dashes...do they work or not?
thanks in advance!*

I used to think of her
as being larger than life—
beautiful in her righteous anger,
frightening with her quiet, resounding stares—
a warm, comforting shell

filled with cool, steely resolve.
She was so many different adjectives
and I could fill pages describing her.
Now she is simply small and fragile,
asleep on the couch with a thin afghan.

She naps in the heat of the day
and dreams of her own mother.
She smiles with her eyes closed
as I pull the blanket over bony shoulders,
push silver hair behind her ear.

The first two stanzas are all "telling"….they are abstract and say nothing specific about your mother. By the time you get around to showing me your mother "napping" in the heat of the day, you have lost me.  Not so much a job of "cleaning up" but making a mess in the first place so we have something to discuss.  Love the picture that develops toward the end of stanza #2 and continues into stanza #3 (why the break?) but the first stanza and 3/4 are lost on me.  

hey 71, thank you so much for the honest review. that is exactly what i need to give me some perspective on this piece. i know my writing drifts into prose all to often. it's something i really struggle with and i'm trying to work on it. this is most helpful. i'm going to scrap that first strophe altogether and start with the imagery of the second. i'm grateful for the time you spent reading and commenting, it really does make a difference.

[cjchaffin]

edit posted. i chucked most of the original first two strophes and replaced them with an actual memory
that i hope serves to paint a better picture.

still struggling with a better title though...suggestions are welcome!

[makeshift]

I think the edit was a big improvement. I don't remember if I read this when it was first posted, but you do a good job now of showing her larger then lifeness, where as the original falls a bit short. The poem made me think of my mom and her mortality. Its fun and nostalgic at first and more somber towards the end. The beginning is great because its so personal, but still relatable, where as the end feels a bit more cliche. The boney shoulders/white hair are something very archetypical of old age, I would like to see something more like the story at the start, but maybe thats just me. I enjoyed the read thnx 4 sharing. ima hug my mom next time I see her. Left 2cents below.

edit #1:
My mother was a warrior,
wielding wooden spoons
like weapons of mass construction. Read as destruction then realized it was construction, and giggled. Funny funny
 
We four would tug on her apron, We four is concise but feels a bit unnatural. Maybe if I read it once I wouldn't notice but reading this line closely I cant get past it.
tell her how pretty she was
so we could have more pancakes.
 
She would laugh and chase us
down the hall, a giantess
with crazy wood appendages. I like this stanza a lot. Between this one and the last you capture a particular playful child/mother relationship very well. Reminds me of when I played  with my mom as a kid, and the silly moments we still have occasionally. I'm not sure if crazy is the best adjective, it works but I wonder if something else couldn't be more specific IDK  Same with giantess I do like that that it emphasizes the femininity of your mom, but wonder if giant would be just as effective. The archtypical image of giant is probably male, but I did slow down for a second to understand giantess.
 
Now she is simply small and fragile, I think this shift could be a lot more elegant if you started the stanza with an image to show how small she is, like you do with the giant story. Taking an image from your last stanza you could start this one like "Now I pull a blanket over bony shoulders" 
spoons at rest, hands clutching an afghan.
She naps in the heat of the day, Really like this line, not entirely sure why. Something about the fatigue required to sleep in day and heat, or maybe the fact that she is so scheduless she can sleep in the day, or maybe the image of the sun beating down on her idk idk
dreaming of her own warrior mother;
I pull the blanket over bony shoulders
and push silver hair behind her ear.
original:
I used to think of her
as being larger than life—
beautiful in her righteous anger,
frightening with her quiet, resounding stares—
a warm, comforting shell
filled with cool, steely resolve.
She was so many different adjectives
and I could fill pages describing her.
Now she is simply small and fragile,
asleep on the couch with a thin afghan.
She naps in the heat of the day
and dreams of her own mother.
She smiles with her eyes closed
as I pull the blanket over bony shoulders,
push silver hair behind her ear.

[cjchaffin]

I think the edit was a big improvement. I don't remember if I read this when it was first posted, but you do a good job now of showing her larger then lifeness, where as the original falls a bit short. The poem made me think of my mom and her mortality. Its fun and nostalgic at first and more somber towards the end. The beginning is great because its so personal, but still relatable, where as the end feels a bit more cliche. The boney shoulders/white hair are something very archetypical of old age, I would like to see something more like the story at the start, but maybe thats just me. I enjoyed the read thnx 4 sharing. ima hug my mom next time I see her. Left 2cents below.

edit #1:
My mother was a warrior,
wielding wooden spoons
like weapons of mass construction. Read as destruction then realized it was construction, and giggled. Funny funny
 
We four would tug on her apron, We four is concise but feels a bit unnatural. Maybe if I read it once I wouldn't notice but reading this line closely I cant get past it.
tell her how pretty she was
so we could have more pancakes.
 
She would laugh and chase us
down the hall, a giantess
with crazy wood appendages. I like this stanza a lot. Between this one and the last you capture a particular playful child/mother relationship very well. Reminds me of when I played  with my mom as a kid, and the silly moments we still have occasionally. I'm not sure if crazy is the best adjective, it works but I wonder if something else couldn't be more specific IDK  Same with giantess I do like that that it emphasizes the femininity of your mom, but wonder if giant would be just as effective. The archtypical image of giant is probably male, but I did slow down for a second to understand giantess.
 
Now she is simply small and fragile, I think this shift could be a lot more elegant if you started the stanza with an image to show how small she is, like you do with the giant story. Taking an image from your last stanza you could start this one like "Now I pull a blanket over bony shoulders" 
spoons at rest, hands clutching an afghan.
She naps in the heat of the day, Really like this line, not entirely sure why. Something about the fatigue required to sleep in day and heat, or maybe the fact that she is so scheduless she can sleep in the day, or maybe the image of the sun beating down on her idk idk
dreaming of her own warrior mother;
I pull the blanket over bony shoulders
and push silver hair behind her ear.
original:
I used to think of her
as being larger than life—
beautiful in her righteous anger,
frightening with her quiet, resounding stares—
a warm, comforting shell
filled with cool, steely resolve.
She was so many different adjectives
and I could fill pages describing her.
Now she is simply small and fragile,
asleep on the couch with a thin afghan.
She naps in the heat of the day
and dreams of her own mother.
She smiles with her eyes closed
as I pull the blanket over bony shoulders,
push silver hair behind her ear.

thanks makeshift. i'm glad you were able to connect with this, and you pinpointed some of the areas that i still want to strengthen. thanks so much for taking the time to read and critique, it's very helpful!

[Mwaba don]

edit #1:


My mother was a warrior,
wielding wooden spoons
like weapons of mass construction.
 
We four would tug on her apron,
tell her how pretty she was
so we could have more pancakes.
 
She would laugh and chase us
down the hall, a giantess
with crazy wood appendages.
 
Now she is simply small and fragile,
spoons at rest, hands clutching an afghan.
She naps in the heat of the day,

dreaming of her own warrior mother;
I pull the blanket over bony shoulders
and push silver hair behind her ear.



original:

I used to think of her
as being larger than life—   Cliche?
beautiful in her righteous anger, (what do you mean righteous anger? How do you relate someone being lager than life to having righteous anger.)
frightening with her quiet, resounding stares—
a warm, comforting shell

filled with cool, steely resolve.
She was so many different adjectives
and I could fill pages describing her.
Now she is simply small and fragile,
asleep on the couch with a thin afghan.

She naps in the heat of the day
and dreams of her own mother.
She smiles with her eyes closed   (Could you have said: she smiles with eyes closed as i pull the blanket over her bony shoulders.)
as I pull the blanket over bony shoulders, (Was the word her left out intentionally?)
push silver hair behind her ear.  (The ending sounds little sudden.. as if the poem was meant to go on.)

[Mwaba don]

edit #1:
My mother was a warrior,
wielding wooden spoons
like weapons of mass construction.
 
We four would tug on her apron,
tell her how pretty she was
so we could have more pancakes.
 
She would laugh and chase us
down the hall, a giantess
with crazy wood appendages.
 
Now she is simply small and fragile,
spoons at rest, hands clutching an afghan.
She naps in the heat of the day,
dreaming of her own warrior mother;
I pull the blanket over bony shoulders
and push silver hair behind her ear.
original:
I used to think of her
as being larger than life—   Cliche?
beautiful in her righteous anger, (what do you mean righteous anger? How do you relate someone being lager than life to having righteous anger.)
frightening with her quiet, resounding stares—
a warm, comforting shell
filled with cool, steely resolve.
She was so many different adjectives
and I could fill pages describing her.
Now she is simply small and fragile,
asleep on the couch with a thin afghan.
She naps in the heat of the day
and dreams of her own mother.
She smiles with her eyes closed   (Could you have said: she smiles with eyes closed as i pull the blanket over her bony shoulders.)
as I pull the blanket over bony shoulders, (Was the word her left out intentionally?)
push silver hair behind her ear.  (The ending sounds little sudden.. as if the poem was meant to go on.)

The poem sounds good and has a nice flow to it.
But I thought the ending was not quit good.
Nice structure of the poem. It made it easy to read.
I liked that you kept the same mood through out the poem.

[Tamara]

edit #1:


My mother was a warrior,
wielding wooden spoons
like weapons of mass construction.
 
We four would tug on her apron,
tell her how pretty she was
so we could have more pancakes.
 
She would laugh and chase us
down the hall, a giantess
with crazy wood appendages.
 
Now she is simply small and fragile,
spoons at rest, hands clutching an afghan.
She naps in the heat of the day,

dreaming of her own warrior mother;
I pull the blanket over bony shoulders
and push silver hair behind her ear.



original:

I used to think of her
as being larger than life—
beautiful in her righteous anger,
frightening with her quiet, resounding stares—
a warm, comforting shell

filled with cool, steely resolve.
She was so many different adjectives
and I could fill pages describing her.
Now she is simply small and fragile,
asleep on the couch with a thin afghan.

She naps in the heat of the day
and dreams of her own mother.
She smiles with her eyes closed
as I pull the blanket over bony shoulders,
push silver hair behind her ear.

I prefer the original version as it gives softness and fragility to the character. 

In the edit, I felt these lines 'My mother was a warrior, wielding wooden spoons like weapons of mass construction.'were a bit exaggerated, that it does not blend too well with the rest of the poem. 

[ellajam]

Hi, cj, I much prefer the edit on an emotional level, the detachment has been removed.

My problem is that except for the word "warrior", she has lost her resolve, as if her spoons were wielded only in fun. I'm missing "her righteous anger, frightening with her quiet, resounding stares", the fierce side of her child rearing.

I particularly like your reuse of the word warrior in describing her mother.

Hope this helps.

edit #1:


My mother was a warrior,
wielding wooden spoons
like weapons of mass construction.
 
We four would tug on her apron,
tell her how pretty she was
so we could have more pancakes.
 
She would laugh and chase us
down the hall, a giantess
with crazy wood appendages.
 
Now she is simply small and fragile,
spoons at rest, hands clutching an afghan.
She naps in the heat of the day,

dreaming of her own warrior mother;
I pull the blanket over bony shoulders
and push silver hair behind her ear.



original:

I used to think of her
as being larger than life—
beautiful in her righteous anger,
frightening with her quiet, resounding stares—
a warm, comforting shell

filled with cool, steely resolve.
She was so many different adjectives
and I could fill pages describing her.
Now she is simply small and fragile,
asleep on the couch with a thin afghan.

She naps in the heat of the day
and dreams of her own mother.
She smiles with her eyes closed
as I pull the blanket over bony shoulders,
push silver hair behind her ear.

[ChristopherSea]

H Chris, I am a little late to the poem, sorry. However, I like the edit  a lot. The core metaphor is maintained and strong.

I was wondering if there was a better adjective than 'construction', perhaps something more gastronomical like 'mass confection' or 'concoction,' at least something along those lines.

Perhaps a new word for grandma's battle title, other than repeating 'warrior,' would add more as well. Something like, '...her own soldiering mom'. See what you think. Cheers/Chris

[cjchaffin]

mwaba don: thank you for your input. i was hoping to address some of those issues with the first edit.

tamara: hmm...valid points. i'll have to think on it. thanks for the feedback!

miss ella: always helpful! i miss the fierceness as well, i need to think about how to incorporate that back into the edit. thank you!

chris: also valid points and food for thought (pun intended  ) glad you like the edit, and thank you so much for the ideas!

[71degrees]

mwaba don: thank you for your input. i was hoping to address some of those issues with the first edit.

tamara: hmm...valid points. i'll have to think on it. thanks for the feedback!

miss ella: always helpful! i miss the fierceness as well, i need to think about how to incorporate that back into the edit. thank you!

chris: also valid points and food for thought (pun intended  ) glad you like the edit, and thank you so much for the ideas!

My three cents:  The opening line I read as child abuse until I took a really GOOD look.  Don't like "construction" at all.  I DO like the edited version though.  MUCH better.  

71 degrees

[JPB]

Ahhh . . . I loved the line, "like weapons of mass construction."

This is such a well done revision I hate to spoil it, but . . . with this line, "spoons at rest, hands clutching an afghan." I would insert the word "are" between "spoons at." I loved the poem, just wish my mother had been that kind of loving mother.



My mother was a warrior,
wielding wooden spoons
like weapons of mass construction.

We four would tug on her apron,
tell her how pretty she was
so we could have more pancakes.

She would laugh and chase us
down the hall, a giantess
with crazy wood appendages.

Now she is simply small and fragile,
spoons at rest, hands clutching an afghan.
She naps in the heat of the day,

dreaming of her own warrior mother;
I pull the blanket over bony shoulders
and push silver hair behind her ear.

[cjchaffin]

mwaba don: thank you for your input. i was hoping to address some of those issues with the first edit.

tamara: hmm...valid points. i'll have to think on it. thanks for the feedback!

miss ella: always helpful! i miss the fierceness as well, i need to think about how to incorporate that back into the edit. thank you!

chris: also valid points and food for thought (pun intended  ) glad you like the edit, and thank you so much for the ideas!

My three cents:  The opening line I read as child abuse until I took a really GOOD look.  Don't like "construction" at all.  I DO like the edited version though.  MUCH better.  

71 degrees

hmm...fair enough. thanks for the vote of confidence on the edit as a whole, i appreciate that. 

[cjchaffin]

Ahhh . . . I loved the line, "like weapons of mass construction."

This is such a well done revision I hate to spoil it, but . . . with this line, "spoons at rest, hands clutching an afghan." I would insert the word "are" between "spoons at." I loved the poem, just wish my mother had been that kind of loving mother.



My mother was a warrior,
wielding wooden spoons
like weapons of mass construction.

We four would tug on her apron,
tell her how pretty she was
so we could have more pancakes.

She would laugh and chase us
down the hall, a giantess
with crazy wood appendages.

Now she is simply small and fragile,
spoons at rest, hands clutching an afghan.
She naps in the heat of the day,

dreaming of her own warrior mother;
I pull the blanket over bony shoulders
and push silver hair behind her ear.

hi jpb, all suggestions are welcome, especially in an ongoing edit. thanks for the feedback, much appreciated!