the night lanterns

[cjchaffin]

the night lanterns

She’d started collecting fireflies,
their dried, lightless husks
filling up old mason jars;
 
she refused to throw them out
even after they’d lost their glow.
 
I never knew Mama to be afraid of the dark
but she said so one day when I asked
why she kept them.
 
The jars still sit on her windowsill,
clean and empty of husks,
a vanilla tea light candle inside each one now.
 
I’ve lit them every night since she passed;
people ask me why, but I don’t answer.
They don’t need to know that I’m afraid of the dark.
 

[cidermaid]

First off want to say that i enjoyed the overall read of this and liked the simple and uncomplicated progression.
I think you could trim out a few words.  Left my suggestions below.

the night lanterns

She’d started collecting fireflies,
their dried, lightless husks  YOu use husks again below so i think you could find a replacement.  I like the use of it below for the added image of the passing of mama, so suggest the use of something different in this line. 
filling up old mason jars;
 
she refused to throw them out
even after they’d lost their glow.  nice detail here.  perhaps a commar needed after out.
 
I never knew Mama to be afraid of the dark
but she said so one day when I asked
why she kept them.   this stanza feels a little awkward / long winded, particularly the second line, but not got any suggestion for alterations at this stage.
 
The jars still sit on her windowsill,   This reads fine as is but if you change to sit on my windowsill it would facilitate the crop of some words in the last stanza.
clean and empty of husks,   This line carries a lot of weight for me in terms of suppling images to build a picture of Mama.  Good strong line esp with the contrast of lifestyle when coupled with the next line.   Nice.
a vanilla tea light candle inside each one now.
 
I’ve lit them every night since she passed;
people ask me why, but I don’t answer.   Undecided if you need but I don't answer.  Leaning towards not needed.
They don’t need to know that I’m afraid of the dark.
 

Hope some of this is helpful.
  AJ.

[billy]

i bloody like this bugger. [is it prose, i don't see any poetic devices at play of worth, but it doesn't stop me liking it]
i think you could trim it down a little and add a device or two, some alliteration maybe and a dab of consonance. even an odd simile or metaphor, anything to lift it a little higher. at present it's sweet and a good read. wit just a small edit you can turn it into a really good poem. [don't forget about a few poetic devices.]

 

the night lanterns

She’d started collecting fireflies, when did she start? would it be easier to say [She collected.....]
their dried, lightless husks
filling up old mason jars; would filled work better than filling. i like the start a lot. i thought the poem was going to be about nature, the 3rd stanza allowed me to see the light
 
she refused to throw them out
even after they’d lost their glow.
 
I never knew Mama to be afraid of the dark
but she said so one day when I asked
why she kept them. i like how this makes me think mamas also have weakness
 
The jars still sit on her windowsill,
clean and empty of husks,
a vanilla tea light candle inside each one now.
 
I’ve lit them every night since she passed;
people ask me why, but I don’t answer.
They don’t need to know that I’m afraid of the dark. i enjoyed the end and the connection between mum and child. i also like how the jars feel like some kind of alter for her.
 

[cjchaffin]

First off want to say that i enjoyed the overall read of this and liked the simple and uncomplicated progression.
I think you could trim out a few words.  Left my suggestions below.

the night lanterns

She’d started collecting fireflies,
their dried, lightless husks  YOu use husks again below so i think you could find a replacement.  I like the use of it below for the added image of the passing of mama, so suggest the use of something different in this line. 
filling up old mason jars;
 
she refused to throw them out
even after they’d lost their glow.  nice detail here.  perhaps a commar needed after out.
 
I never knew Mama to be afraid of the dark
but she said so one day when I asked
why she kept them.   this stanza feels a little awkward / long winded, particularly the second line, but not got any suggestion for alterations at this stage.
 
The jars still sit on her windowsill,   This reads fine as is but if you change to sit on my windowsill it would facilitate the crop of some words in the last stanza.
clean and empty of husks,   This line carries a lot of weight for me in terms of suppling images to build a picture of Mama.  Good strong line esp with the contrast of lifestyle when coupled with the next line.   Nice.
a vanilla tea light candle inside each one now.
 
I’ve lit them every night since she passed;
people ask me why, but I don’t answer.   Undecided if you need but I don't answer.  Leaning towards not needed.
They don’t need to know that I’m afraid of the dark.
 

Hope some of this is helpful.
  AJ.

thanks AJ, that is very helpful indeed!

---

It would be nicer if you lit up the candles every night remembering moments spent with your mother who was afraid of the dark. But then you say that you are afraid of the dark too, and so your nyctophobia is equally as important as hers. Quite some poets wrote warm poems about their mothers. You wrote a poem in which you mention your mother and her phobia, but then you mention yourself in such a fashion which suggests that you are possibly more important than your mother. And if you are afraid of the dark too, how come she didn’t collect fireflies for you too? Didn’t she know that her own flesh and blood is suffering from nyctophobia? It appears that you weren’t that close, unless you were ashamed because you are afraid of the dark so you didn’t tell your mother about it and later you found out that you have something in common. If you wanted to say that you acquired nyctophobia after your mother passed away, I wonder if that is acceptable because nyctophobia isn't contagious, even though I gathered that you loved your mother.

I like your idea, and I think that this could be a really nice poem about your mother, but some parts are a bit confusing, unclear and understated.

Please be cautious about assuming that the speaker of the poem -- even if it says "I" -- is the poet him/herself.  We are not psychoanalysing here, we are critiquing poetry/ Admin

"It appears that you weren’t that close, unless you were ashamed because you are afraid of the dark so you didn’t tell your mother about it and later you found out that you have something in common."


and there you have it   

---

i bloody like this bugger. [is it prose, i don't see any poetic devices at play of worth, but it doesn't stop me liking it]
i think you could trim it down a little and add a device or two, some alliteration maybe and a dab of consonance. even an odd simile or metaphor, anything to lift it a little higher. at present it's sweet and a good read. wit just a small edit you can turn it into a really good poem. [don't forget about a few poetic devices.]

 

the night lanterns

She’d started collecting fireflies, when did she start? would it be easier to say [She collected.....]
their dried, lightless husks
filling up old mason jars; would filled work better than filling. i like the start a lot. i thought the poem was going to be about nature, the 3rd stanza allowed me to see the light
 
she refused to throw them out
even after they’d lost their glow.
 
I never knew Mama to be afraid of the dark
but she said so one day when I asked
why she kept them. i like how this makes me think mamas also have weakness
 
The jars still sit on her windowsill,
clean and empty of husks,
a vanilla tea light candle inside each one now.
 
I’ve lit them every night since she passed;
people ask me why, but I don’t answer.
They don’t need to know that I’m afraid of the dark. i enjoyed the end and the connection between mum and child. i also like how the jars feel like some kind of alter for her.
 

thanks billy, you raise some good points. i suppose this does lean closer to prose than poetry...i'll try to clean it up and make it more poetic. thanks again!

---

i bloody like this bugger. [is it prose, i don't see any poetic devices at play of worth, but it doesn't stop me liking it]
i think you could trim it down a little and add a device or two, some alliteration maybe and a dab of consonance. even an odd simile or metaphor, anything to lift it a little higher. at present it's sweet and a good read. wit just a small edit you can turn it into a really good poem. [don't forget about a few poetic devices.]

 

the night lanterns

She’d started collecting fireflies, when did she start? would it be easier to say [She collected.....]
their dried, lightless husks
filling up old mason jars; would filled work better than filling. i like the start a lot. i thought the poem was going to be about nature, the 3rd stanza allowed me to see the light
 
she refused to throw them out
even after they’d lost their glow.
 
I never knew Mama to be afraid of the dark
but she said so one day when I asked
why she kept them. i like how this makes me think mamas also have weakness
 
The jars still sit on her windowsill,
clean and empty of husks,
a vanilla tea light candle inside each one now.
 
I’ve lit them every night since she passed;
people ask me why, but I don’t answer.
They don’t need to know that I’m afraid of the dark. i enjoyed the end and the connection between mum and child. i also like how the jars feel like some kind of alter for her.
 

thanks billy, you raise some good points. i suppose this does lean closer to prose than poetry...i'll try to clean it up and make it more poetic. thanks again!

[fluorescent.43]

the night lanterns

She’d started collecting fireflies,
their dried, lightless husks husks already implies dried, so i'd x dried in favor of lightless.
filling up old mason jars; ending this stanza on a semicolon seems odd.
 
she refused to throw them out why no capital to start? is this stanza meant to join up with s1?
even after they’d lost their glow.
 
I never knew Mama to be afraid of the dark
but she said so one day when I asked
why she kept them. really like this. succinctly written.
 
The jars still sit on her windowsill, don't think you need "still" because of the below lines.
clean and empty of husks,
a vanilla tea light candle inside each one now. is there such a thing as vanilla tea light candle (probably there is)?- seems too many words to describe a candle.
 
I’ve lit them every night since she passed; debating the importance of "I've"- think ending this line on a period would be better.
people ask me why, but I don’t answer.
They don’t need to know that I’m afraid of the dark.
 

this was a good read! the simplicity of tone (be careful that your poem doesn't cross the line over to prose) fits the subject matter. i'd suggest paring down some of the words to streamline it further, but not so much that it becomes minimalist. also, a personal nitpick & opinion: the title isn't capitalized, but most of the poem follows standard capitalization. i like consistency, but really it doesn't matter. good job on this one! enjoyed it.

[cjchaffin]

the night lanterns

She’d started collecting fireflies,
their dried, lightless husks husks already implies dried, so i'd x dried in favor of lightless.
filling up old mason jars; ending this stanza on a semicolon seems odd.
 
she refused to throw them out why no capital to start? is this stanza meant to join up with s1?
even after they’d lost their glow.
 
I never knew Mama to be afraid of the dark
but she said so one day when I asked
why she kept them. really like this. succinctly written.
 
The jars still sit on her windowsill, don't think you need "still" because of the below lines.
clean and empty of husks,
a vanilla tea light candle inside each one now. is there such a thing as vanilla tea light candle (probably there is)?- seems too many words to describe a candle.
 
I’ve lit them every night since she passed; debating the importance of "I've"- think ending this line on a period would be better.
people ask me why, but I don’t answer.
They don’t need to know that I’m afraid of the dark.
 

this was a good read! the simplicity of tone (be careful that your poem doesn't cross the line over to prose) fits the subject matter. i'd suggest paring down some of the words to streamline it further, but not so much that it becomes minimalist. also, a personal nitpick & opinion: the title isn't capitalized, but most of the poem follows standard capitalization. i like consistency, but really it doesn't matter. good job on this one! enjoyed it.

hmm, food for thought. i see what you're saying about the first two strophes being together...i'll think on it. thanks for the thorough read!

[ellajam]

Hi, I'm so glad you posted this, I've enjoyed it over and over. You've gotten some very useful crit that I agree can sharpen this but I'd like to say this is not prose to me. It works and hits its target well, for me.

the night lanterns

She’d started collecting fireflies,
their dried, lightless husks
filling up old mason jars; Fireflies, husks, jars: not prose, please edit around these and leave them be, IMO they work.
 
she refused to throw them out
even after they’d lost their glow. Yes.
 
I never knew Mama to be afraid of the dark
but she said so one day when I asked
why she kept them. It makes no sense to keep them to ward off the dark when they are used up. Yes, do not tell me this is not a poem.
 
The jars still sit on her windowsill,
clean and empty of husks, I am cleaning the jars through my tears.
a vanilla tea light candle inside each one now.
 
I’ve lit them every night since she passed;
people ask me why, but I don’t answer.
They don’t need to know that I’m afraid of the dark. Passed, answer, dark. yes.
 

I'm glad you've gotten such good suggestions on how to hone this, good luck with it, it is worth it.

[cjchaffin]

Hi, I'm so glad you posted this, I've enjoyed it over and over. You've gotten some very useful crit that I agree can sharpen this but I'd like to say this is not prose to me. It works and hits its target well, for me.

the night lanterns

She’d started collecting fireflies,
their dried, lightless husks
filling up old mason jars; Fireflies, husks, jars: not prose, please edit around these and leave them be, IMO they work.
 
she refused to throw them out
even after they’d lost their glow. Yes.
 
I never knew Mama to be afraid of the dark
but she said so one day when I asked
why she kept them. It makes no sense to keep them to ward off the dark when they are used up. Yes, do not tell me this is not a poem.
 
The jars still sit on her windowsill,
clean and empty of husks, I am cleaning the jars through my tears.
a vanilla tea light candle inside each one now.
 
I’ve lit them every night since she passed;
people ask me why, but I don’t answer.
They don’t need to know that I’m afraid of the dark. Passed, answer, dark. yes.
 

I'm glad you've gotten such good suggestions on how to hone this, good luck with it, it is worth it.

marcella, that really means a lot to me. i've been struggling to write anything of substance lately and this came to me
in a dream the other night...i just knew i had to write it down. i'll clean it up here soon and post an edit. 
thank you so much for the vote of confidence, it's good to be a part of the pen again.

[crow]

Conclusion: To fix this poem, just add the scene where the daughter empties the jars of bugs, cleans them, and puts candles in their place. The rest of this response is me figuring out that solution and the problem that necessitates it. 

Initial thought:
I'm giving this crit mostly because I don't understand this poem, and want to dredge the meaning out of it. I like the light–dark imagery, as well as the biographic element, but I must note that the figures of the narrative work also as symbols. I'm saying that only because, taken as symbols, the entities implicate their opposites. I don't know if that will turn out to be an important factor, but I suspect that it will.

The note about if this is poetry or prose is particularly sharp, here. If it's prose, many of my copyedit notes will feel excessive to you. If you intend it as a poem, then they won't. But if this is a poem, the asked-for poetic device (line breaks, of course, aren't enough) must be that each individual word is specifically chosen. Otw, yes, it's outside of poetic jurisdiction.

Final thought:
Beyond this final thought is a couple line-by-line analyses. Those analyses got me to where I know what was bugging me here. The rest of this macro comment spells that out, and you can skip the line-by-lines.

This poem has a "big problem." It's that the narrative doesn't end in anything emotionally satisfying. So, if a person were afraid of the dark, that person would, for instance, light tea candles. You wouldn't keep burnt-out fireflies. The mother's answer is therefore a wry response to the daughter's [I'm assuming it's a daughter . . .] question. The daughter's response to her mother's death, however, is literal. So, to be plain, the plot is this: a mother jokingly attributes her firefly collection to a fear of the dark. After the mother dies, her daughter moves into the mother's house and develops a bonafide fear of the dark. She alleviates that fear by lighting candles in jars on the windowsill. That narrative frustrates its emotional resonance because the plot events don't follow naturally from one to the next.

To explain the problem by analogy, compare: "I asked why the Mayans built pyramids. Our teacher said, 'Because they loved shapes.' Recently, I discovered I'm a Mayan, and so I started reading about geometry every day."

But there's another "less big problem": the daughter tosses out the bugs and cleans the jars. This is what someone does to forget the past, not to honor it. So, using the same analogy, it's this: "Our teacher said Mayans built pyramids because they loved shapes. After learning of my Mayan heritage, I blew up one of their pyramids and drew a triangle on the site."

So, again, you can probably skip the rest of this, but here it is for reference.

Proofread:
[T]he night lanterns
--Consider "Her night lanterns," "My night lanterns," and "Our night lanterns"
--"night" is largely redundant with "lanterns," so that "night" becomes a focus of inquiry. See the copyedit below.

She’d started collecting fireflies,
their dried, lightless husks
filling [out: up, as understood] old mason jars;
--I'm confused why you've opted against two independent clauses. So, the natural rendering of the thought would be this: "She'd started collecting fireflies. Their dried, lightless husks filled old mason jars."

she refused to throw them out[,]
even after they’d lost their glow.

I never knew Mama to be afraid of the dark[,]
but she said so one day when I asked
why she kept them.

--Start breakout--
I'm gonna dig in some, in this stanza. Not sure why . . . But here's the original:

The jars still sit on her windowsill,
clean and empty of husks,
a vanilla tea light candle inside each one now.

From a proofers perspective, the problems are redundancy and incoherence. For the purposes of this piece, here are definitions of those terms: "Redundancy" is saying a thing you said already, and "Incoherence" is saying a thing as if it had been said already. Redundancy is confusing because the reader asks, "Wait . . . Hasn't this been said already?" Incoherence is confusing because the reader asks, "Wait . . . *Has* this been said already?"

Here's a redraft with neither. Note that most of the stanza is gone:

The jars house vanilla tea candles now.

The most important incoherence word in the original is "windowsill," because it hadn't been said earlier. My imagination placed the jars in the basement. That they were on a windowsill changes that image entirely. For a note on meaning, see below, at the copyedit. The word "clean" is a minor incoherence, as the jars weren't dirty earlier; to the extent it isn't incoherent, it's redundant; "her" is a minor incoherence bc we didn't know she owned a window. No biggie on either count, but consider changes for the sake of discipline.

The most important redundancies are:

Still: redundant with the fact that the jars' contents have changed.

Sit: redundant with "jars" bc jars don't do something besides sitting.

Empty of husks: redundant with the fact that candles are in them now.

Inside: redundant with the idea of jars. We don't typically describe things as outside of jars. This isn't a true redundancy, but it's worth a thought.

One: inexcusably redundant with "each."

Now: potentially redundant with the shifted verb tense, but probably justified as good hygiene.

--this is a proofread that doesn't consider redundancies or incoherence:

The jars still sit on her windowsill,
[but(?)] clean[ed(?)] and empt[ied(?)] of husks,
a vanilla tea [out: light] candle inside each one [out: now, as redundant with "still"].
--the phrasing, here, is fine, but consider cleaning it up some. Compare "The jars still sit on her windowsill, but instead of husks, they house candles."
----The rewrite is to suggest
clean and empty of husks,
a vanilla tea light candle inside each one now.
--End breakout--

I’ve lit them [out: every, but see note just below] night[ly{ since she passed;
people ask [out: me, as largely understood] why, but I don’t answer.
They don’t need to know that I’m afraid of the dark.
--note that if "every" is meant to be emphatic, don't change to "nightly".


Copyedit:

This is a poem about a daughter who replaces her mother's inoperative lanterns with ones that work after she inherits them from her mother. It is unclear whether it's theme is death or inheritance. As written, the two possible themes are inharmonious, and the poem should be rewritten to contain only one of the two or to house both harmoniously.

the night lanterns

--start breakout--
This is either an excellent title or a horrible one, depending. It immediately raises the question, "What are the words 'the night' doing here???"

If, thinking about it, you decide that there's no difference in meaning between "lanterns" and "the night lanterns" then go with "lanterns" as the title.

This title is a big problem, here, because it's our first intro to a thematic misfire. Is "night" a literal reference to darkness (in which case, the poem is about an inherited fear of the dark) or is "night" a symbol for death (in which case the poem is about death)? On a macro level, it's the latter, but on a micro level, the poem seems to *insists* that it is, in fact, about literal darkness.

Here's my complaint. If the poem is about death, the images and symbols are distracting and underpowered. If it's about darkness, the narrative doesn't make sense.

Yeah . . . I think that's the crux . . . I'll know better after the copyedit . . .

To the end of figuring it out, I'll be setting "death" and "darkness" interpretations against one another.
--end breakout--

She’d started collecting fireflies,
--on the word "started": if Death, she started bc her own mother died; if "darkness," she started because something bad happened to her in the dark
--fireflies. If Death, they represent vitality; if darkness, they're just things that glow
their dried, lightless husks
--if Death, the husks reference some familial entity's corpse; if darkness, they are a confusing narrative event, causing the reader to ask why lightless things would be kept by a person afraid of the dark

filling up old mason jars;
--Death: "old" references dying; darkness: old is irrelevant

she refused to throw them out?

--start breakout--
"throw them out" is the weakest phrase in the poem. The reason why is that the attempt to construe the phrase triggers a cascade of convoluted analysis, as discussed herein.

First, as discussed, the asking party must be either (1) Mama, herself or (2) a cruel person. Imagine you saw jars on a windowsill filled with dead beetles. You wouldn't say, "Please, throw those out" unless the owner's preference was unimportant to you. Rather, you'd ask, "Why do you have jars of beetles? The only person likely to ask Mama to get rid of them would be Mama herself. In that case, an internal conflict between keeping an eyesore and throwing it away makes sense, as would a determined refusal. But if it's Mama asking and refusing, we're suddenly given a narrator with omniscience unsupported elsewhere in the poem.

Further, the daughter's getting rid of the beetles after her mother's passing becomes an act at odds with a natural reading of the poem. Let me explain.

What I "want" the poem to be about is this: A daughter responds to her mother's death by adopting one of her mother's traits, a fear of the dark. To that end, she lights candles nightly. But it could also be about this: a mother's death triggers the development of a phobia in her daughter. That phobia of darkness parallels her mother's wry explanation for a compulsive collection of fireflies. That is, her mother, questioned about her dead firefly collection, says it's because she fears the dark, even though burnt-out fireflies would do nothing to alleviate such a fear.

Do you see the confusion I'm confused my trying to piece out? I hope so, bc I'm getting lost in that effort to do the apart piecing. So . . . Moving on.
--end breakout--

even after they’d lost their glow.

I never knew Mama to be afraid of the dark
but she said so one day when I asked
why she kept them.
--as with the analysis in the breakout just above, keeping fireflies that don't glow has no literal relation to a bonafide fear of the dark, and trying to figure out the real reason she's keeping the jars quickly becomes a unpleasantly convoluted activity.

The jars still sit on her windowsill,
clean and empty of husks,
a vanilla tea light candle inside each one now.
--just figured out what I think the issue is w this poem. See above, at the beginning of this crit
--The poetry-vs-prose issue could take the word "vanilla" here as its genesis. It is very difficult to see how that word interfaces with the rest of the poem. If this note, that "vanilla" seems more a reporters detail than a poets elaboration, needs clarification, just ask and I'll air it out.  

I’ve lit them every night since she passed;
—again, the major issue here is discussed up top, but it's worth noting that the euphemism "she passed" contains several layers of meaning. First, it references the full saying, "she passed on," a saying that assumes an afterlife. This argues against the fear of darkness being in actuality a fear of death, bc why fear death if there's a Heaven? Second, using the euphemism feels insincere. It's a poem about a death, being euphemistic about the actual passing feels aloof. And third, the euphemism here promotes the idea that the last line's "they don't need to know" might likewise be euphemistic
people ask me why, but I don’t answer.
--note the contrast between "don't" and "refuse"
They don’t need to know that I’m afraid of the dark.
--"They don't need to know," is the second-weakest phrase in the poem. First, it reads as a euphemism. As such, it could be standing in  for either "I don't want to tell them" or "They wouldn't understand." As stated above, ending a poem with an ambiguous euphemism isn't ending it strong. But, second, perhaps more importantly, I get the sense that you want to be cheeky, here; compare "They don't need to know. Maybe I'm just scared of the dark . . ." If that's so, it means your mother was likewise hiding her real reason for keeping the dead bugs.

OH!!! Now I see what was bothering me. I'll put it in a short note at the very beginning of this response. I'm guessing I've made more than a few typos, and with apologies, I'm likely going to leave them instead of editing them out, since what I really want to say will be just a couple of short sentences at the beginning, above.

[cjchaffin]

thanks crow, but you're way overthinking it. this is a pretty simple, straightforward premise about death and commonality and realization.

i acknowledge and agree that this is lacking in poetics and leaning more towards prose; i'll address that in the edit.

i'm going to skim through your comments (which are a bit much for mild critique, but i get what you're trying to do and i do appreciate that) and try to pick out some points. thanks for the in-depth analysis.

[DivineMsEmm]

What a beautiful picture you have painted with this piece. Gorgeous simple moments make the best pieces, in my opinion.
This piece is SO close to complete, I think it just needs a little bit of line tweaking. I tend to critique by lines or stanzas, particularly with pieces I feel are nearly finished and what I feel to need minor tweaking... so here we go!

She started collecting fireflies,
        perfect beginning. Simple statement. I personally don't care for past perfect tense, so I changed it to past tense.
their dried, lightless husks
filling up old mason jars.
She'd refused to throw them out
even after they'd lost their glow.
        I think the past perfect tense work with this statement, because it shows that this character has been collecting for quite a while and this is not the first time she had refused.

I never knew Mama to be afraid of the dark
but she said so one day when I asked
why she kept them.
        I think this stanza can be just that first line. Or perhaps reword that line to something like 'I didn't realize Mama was afraid of the dark.'  or 'I never knew Mama was afraid of the dark' - if this line is reworded, the two lines following are not necessary.

The jars still sit on her windowsill,
clean and empty of husks,
a vanilla tea light candle inside each one now.
       the only change I would make here would be to change up the last line to something like, 'each housing a vanilla tea light.'
 
I’ve lit them every night since she passed;
people ask me why, but I don’t answer.
They don’t need to know that I’m afraid of the dark.
      There's something about the simplicity of this last stanza that is sweet and innocent, but it almost ties up the loose ends too well. I almost don't want to know that the speaker is afraid of the dark - perhaps there is a way to say it without saying it flat out. maybe something like '...but i don't answer. // I take after Mama.'

In all - a fantastic piece, and like I stated above, it is SO CLOSE to complete. Beautiful language and moments here, well done.

With my edits:

the night lanterns

She started collecting fireflies,
their dried, lightless husks
filling up old mason jars.
 
She'd refused to throw them out
even after they’d lost their glow.
I never knew Mama was afraid of the dark.
 
The jars still sit on her windowsill,
clean and empty of husks,
each housing a vanilla tea light candle.
 
I’ve lit them every night since she passed;
people ask me why, but I don’t answer.
I take after Mama.

the night lanterns

She’d started collecting fireflies,
their dried, lightless husks
filling up old mason jars;
 
she refused to throw them out
even after they’d lost their glow.
 
I never knew Mama to be afraid of the dark
but she said so one day when I asked
why she kept them.
 
The jars still sit on her windowsill,
clean and empty of husks,
a vanilla tea light candle inside each one now.
 
I’ve lit them every night since she passed;
people ask me why, but I don’t answer.
They don’t need to know that I’m afraid of the dark.
 

[crow]

cjchaffin,

I don't even know that those notes are worth a skim. My whole point boils down to this: you left out the important part. Sorry for the overkill!

crow

[cjchaffin]

What a beautiful picture you have painted with this piece. Gorgeous simple moments make the best pieces, in my opinion.
This piece is SO close to complete, I think it just needs a little bit of line tweaking. I tend to critique by lines or stanzas, particularly with pieces I feel are nearly finished and what I feel to need minor tweaking... so here we go!

She started collecting fireflies,
        perfect beginning. Simple statement. I personally don't care for past perfect tense, so I changed it to past tense.
their dried, lightless husks
filling up old mason jars.
She'd refused to throw them out
even after they'd lost their glow.
        I think the past perfect tense work with this statement, because it shows that this character has been collecting for quite a while and this is not the first time she had refused.

I never knew Mama to be afraid of the dark
but she said so one day when I asked
why she kept them.
        I think this stanza can be just that first line. Or perhaps reword that line to something like 'I didn't realize Mama was afraid of the dark.'  or 'I never knew Mama was afraid of the dark' - if this line is reworded, the two lines following are not necessary.

The jars still sit on her windowsill,
clean and empty of husks,
a vanilla tea light candle inside each one now.
       the only change I would make here would be to change up the last line to something like, 'each housing a vanilla tea light.'
 
I’ve lit them every night since she passed;
people ask me why, but I don’t answer.
They don’t need to know that I’m afraid of the dark.
      There's something about the simplicity of this last stanza that is sweet and innocent, but it almost ties up the loose ends too well. I almost don't want to know that the speaker is afraid of the dark - perhaps there is a way to say it without saying it flat out. maybe something like '...but i don't answer. // I take after Mama.'

In all - a fantastic piece, and like I stated above, it is SO CLOSE to complete. Beautiful language and moments here, well done.

With my edits:

the night lanterns

She started collecting fireflies,
their dried, lightless husks
filling up old mason jars.
 
She'd refused to throw them out
even after they’d lost their glow.
I never knew Mama was afraid of the dark.
 
The jars still sit on her windowsill,
clean and empty of husks,
each housing a vanilla tea light candle.
 
I’ve lit them every night since she passed;
people ask me why, but I don’t answer.
I take after Mama.

the night lanterns

She’d started collecting fireflies,
their dried, lightless husks
filling up old mason jars;
 
she refused to throw them out
even after they’d lost their glow.
 
I never knew Mama to be afraid of the dark
but she said so one day when I asked
why she kept them.
 
The jars still sit on her windowsill,
clean and empty of husks,
a vanilla tea light candle inside each one now.
 
I’ve lit them every night since she passed;
people ask me why, but I don’t answer.
They don’t need to know that I’m afraid of the dark.
 

Thank you, Emily. You make some great points as well. I've gotten some wonderful critique and have some work to do... Thanks!!

---

cjchaffin,

I don't even know that those notes are worth a skim. My whole point boils down to this: you left out the important part. Sorry for the overkill!

crow

You always push me to work harder. Thank you for that. I truly do value the time you take to critique; your perspective is greatly appreciated!!

[Grace]

the night lanterns

She’d started collecting fireflies,
their dried, lightless husks
filling up old mason jars;
 
she refused to throw them out
even after they’d lost their glow.
 
I never knew Mama to be afraid of the dark
but she said so one day when I asked
why she kept them.
 
The jars still sit on her windowsill,
clean and empty of husks,
a vanilla tea light candle inside each one now.
 
I’ve lit them every night since she passed;
people ask me why, but I don’t answer.
They don’t need to know that I’m afraid of the dark.
 

I keep coming back to read this! It reminded me a bit of Owl City- Fireflies:

"But I'll know where several are
If my dreams get real bizarre
'Cause I saved a few and I keep them in a jar".

Oops! Haven't got any suggestions for changes!  I like the simplicity of it and the light/dark theme. The fear of the dark is  a secret shared by Mama to narrator and narrator to reader, but kept from people who ask why in stanza 5."They don't need to know that I'm afraid of the dark". I enjoyed this. Thank you.  Grace

[cjchaffin]

the night lanterns

She’d started collecting fireflies,
their dried, lightless husks
filling up old mason jars;
 
she refused to throw them out
even after they’d lost their glow.
 
I never knew Mama to be afraid of the dark
but she said so one day when I asked
why she kept them.
 
The jars still sit on her windowsill,
clean and empty of husks,
a vanilla tea light candle inside each one now.
 
I’ve lit them every night since she passed;
people ask me why, but I don’t answer.
They don’t need to know that I’m afraid of the dark.
 

I keep coming back to read this! It reminded me a bit of Owl City- Fireflies:

"But I'll know where several are
If my dreams get real bizarre
'Cause I saved a few and I keep them in a jar".

Oops! Haven't got any suggestions for changes!  I like the simplicity of it and the light/dark theme. The fear of the dark is  a secret shared by Mama to narrator and narrator to reader, but kept from people who ask why in stanza 5."They don't need to know that I'm afraid of the dark". I enjoyed this. Thank you.  Grace

thanks Grace! i'm going to take a stab at an edit here soon. glad you enjoyed