02-26-2018, 01:21 AM
Hi Johnny.
Lots to like - the attention to detail is excellent -
but it does ramble quite a lot and I think that
rather dilutes the emotion/impact of the piece.
I'd also suggest restructuring it into verses
(for easier reading if nothing else)
- here's a rough go just as an idea for your consideration.
Between bath-towels and clean sheets
When granny died I was fifteen
she [not yet] sixty, so young
to go in this day and age,
almost thirteen years ago come May.
[i don't remember the day, exactly]
if you’d ask my ma she’d know.
[but I know] I couldn’t bear
to see Granny crumpled up [like that]
like a sick person takin Last Rites,
or whatever it is [Catholics] do (not a very convincing line)
when they’re about to return to God?
Instead,my pals and me played cricket.
picnicking on the square just outside
the crease, whites with grass stains
on the ass cheeks. Lunch of ham and cheese
the crusts cut off, [sweat excusing tears,]
cans of bass shandy, bitter on the tongue
and pears for afters [from] Granny’s own tree,
ripened in her airing cupboard
between bath towels and clean sheets,
her death was played out
to raised voices, or at least
that’s what I was told, ignorant
of the fact that the ears are the last to go.
Auntie blamed Ma for Granny’s death,
like she had some sort of power
over the cancer. While Da
fetched cups of tea too sweet
and cold by the time anger was spent,
and all the while Granda sat praying,
bargaining, he would have sacrificed his faith
in this instant because “WHO? GAVE A FLYING FUCK
WHERE HER SALVATION CAME FROM ?”
I can’t say why this has come to mind
almost thirteen years on come May,
but Ma only ever brings her up on birthdays
and after that we forget again,
but I’d wager eating pears is what does it.
No[t] from Granny's own tree, but still
ripened in the airing cupboard
between bath-towels and clean sheets.
Best, Knot.
Lots to like - the attention to detail is excellent -
but it does ramble quite a lot and I think that
rather dilutes the emotion/impact of the piece.
I'd also suggest restructuring it into verses
(for easier reading if nothing else)
- here's a rough go just as an idea for your consideration.
Between bath-towels and clean sheets
When granny died I was fifteen
she [not yet] sixty, so young
to go in this day and age,
almost thirteen years ago come May.
[i don't remember the day, exactly]
if you’d ask my ma she’d know.
[but I know] I couldn’t bear
to see Granny crumpled up [like that]
like a sick person takin Last Rites,
or whatever it is [Catholics] do (not a very convincing line)
when they’re about to return to God?
Instead,my pals and me played cricket.
picnicking on the square just outside
the crease, whites with grass stains
on the ass cheeks. Lunch of ham and cheese
the crusts cut off, [sweat excusing tears,]
cans of bass shandy, bitter on the tongue
and pears for afters [from] Granny’s own tree,
ripened in her airing cupboard
between bath towels and clean sheets,
her death was played out
to raised voices, or at least
that’s what I was told, ignorant
of the fact that the ears are the last to go.
Auntie blamed Ma for Granny’s death,
like she had some sort of power
over the cancer. While Da
fetched cups of tea too sweet
and cold by the time anger was spent,
and all the while Granda sat praying,
bargaining, he would have sacrificed his faith
in this instant because “WHO? GAVE A FLYING FUCK
WHERE HER SALVATION CAME FROM ?”
I can’t say why this has come to mind
almost thirteen years on come May,
but Ma only ever brings her up on birthdays
and after that we forget again,
but I’d wager eating pears is what does it.
No[t] from Granny's own tree, but still
ripened in the airing cupboard
between bath-towels and clean sheets.
Best, Knot.