the night lanterns

[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!

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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   

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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!

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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!