Aunty Del lived here 1917-2013.Edit 2.1crow, true

[tectak]

But now she’s gone and in her house, we shiver with funerial stress,
and gather to assay her life, though loathe to stamp our claims out loud.
Silently we move around, and smile on every treasure touched;
We carefully handle, bag and box, the broken doll in crumpled dress,
old photographs, canned Oxtail soup, biscuits bought for friends to tea.
Pink table napkins, new and folded, indicate a woman proud.
Pride was virtue in her world of chintzy cherubs, china cups;
strange that wealth summed in a life could hide such human poverty.

We look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime.
The empty spaces on the wall darkened as life's curtains drew.
Gaps between each precious place got longer as her passion left.
The last I hooked on to its pin, a week ago, it left no sign.
Another birthday gift had joined the sad procession. We could tell,
no more would Blacksmith, Basket Weaver, Flower Girl or Lambing Ewe,
Cheese Purveyor, Fresh Fish Monger,Cobbler, Cooper, Weave and Weft,
ever mean so much again… as once they did to Aunty Del.


OriginaL
I look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime.
The empty spaces on the wall darkened as her days grew few.
Gaps between each precious place got longer as her passion left.
The last I hooked on to its pin, a week ago, it left no sign.
Another birthday gift had joined the sad procession. We could tell
that no more Blacksmith, Basket Weaver, Flower Girl or Lambing Ewe,
Cheese Purveyor, Fresh Fish Seller, Cobbler, Hooper, Weave and Weft
would ever mean so much again… as once they did to Aunty Del.

Adelice Cansfield
1917-2013

[ellajam]

Oh, this will stick with me. A few thoughts on a first read:

I look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime. Great opening, I'm in the room, she's gone
The empty spaces on the wall darkened as her days grew few. I'm not a fan of "her days grew few", and both L2 and L3 don't add anything for me yet
Gaps between each precious place got longer as her passion left.
The last I hooked on to its pin, a week ago, it left no sign.

I look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime.
The last I hooked on to its pin, a week ago, it left no sign.

This sounds so much stronger to me.

Another birthday gift had joined the sad procession. We could tell
that no more Blacksmith, Basket Weaver, Flower Girl or Lambing Ewe,
Cheese Purveyor, Fresh Fish Seller, Cobbler, Hooper, Weave and Weft
would ever mean so much again… as once they did to Aunty Del.

Adelice Cansfield
1917-2013

I know I've screwed your rhyme scheme, sorry.

[tectak]

Oh, this will stick with me. A few thoughts on a first read:

I look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime. Great opening, I'm in the room, she's gone
The empty spaces on the wall darkened as her days grew few. I'm not a fan of "her days grew few", and both L2 and L3 don't add anything for me yet
Gaps between each precious place got longer as her passion left.
The last I hooked on to its pin, a week ago, it left no sign.

I look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime.
The last I hooked on to its pin, a week ago, it left no sign.

This sounds so much stronger to me.

Another birthday gift had joined the sad procession. We could tell
that no more Blacksmith, Basket Weaver, Flower Girl or Lambing Ewe,
Cheese Purveyor, Fresh Fish Seller, Cobbler, Hooper, Weave and Weft
would ever mean so much again… as once they did to Aunty Del.

Adelice Cansfield
1917-2013

I know I've screwed your rhyme scheme, sorry.

It is work in progress. Veracity verse. Things keep coming.
Best,
tectak

[71degrees]

I look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime.
The empty spaces on the wall darkened as her days grew few.
Gaps between each precious place got longer as her passion left.
The last I hooked on to its pin, a week ago, it left no sign.
Another birthday gift had joined the sad procession. We could tell
that no more Blacksmith, Basket Weaver, Flower Girl or Lambing Ewe,
Cheese Purveyor, Fresh Fish Seller, Cobbler, Hooper, Weave and Weft
would ever mean so much again… as once they did to Aunty Del.

Adelice Cansfield
1917-2013

Poetry to one's recently departed walks a fine line with "schmalz" on one side and "good stuff" on the other (so to speak). Anyone w/a name like "Aunty Del" could easily fall into schmaltz, especially with a rhythm and rhyme scheme. Yours is still standing

Love the plates...wouldn't mind them being even more of the focus, but I can't see them. The names are there, but I can't see them. They seem to be what Aunty Del was as a person, but I don't even "where" they are being hung, except on a wall. I am left with much work as a reader and a piece this short needs to establish its anchor quickly. In the end, I'm thinking the plates are almost more important than she was. Question for you: why is the procession of her plates "sad?" Again, I'm left guessing.

[tectak]

I look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime.
The empty spaces on the wall darkened as her days grew few.
Gaps between each precious place got longer as her passion left.
The last I hooked on to its pin, a week ago, it left no sign.
Another birthday gift had joined the sad procession. We could tell
that no more Blacksmith, Basket Weaver, Flower Girl or Lambing Ewe,
Cheese Purveyor, Fresh Fish Seller, Cobbler, Hooper, Weave and Weft
would ever mean so much again… as once they did to Aunty Del.

Adelice Cansfield
1917-2013

Ancient aunts say more when dead than alive. This is work in progress. More to come. She bought one plate a year for twenty years....then mised a year...or two....then bought one more....then, well, another WAS due. It arrived the day after the funeral. Sad, really. You want the plates? There's 28 of them. Pristine. Bradex series. Limited edition. Country Crafts. Yours for £100 the lot. Collect.
Thanks,
tectak

Poetry to one's recently departed walks a fine line with "schmalz" on one side and "good stuff" on the other (so to speak). Anyone w/a name like "Aunty Del" could easily fall into schmaltz, especially with a rhythm and rhyme scheme. Yours is still standing

Love the plates...wouldn't mind them being even more of the focus, but I can't see them. The names are there, but I can't see them. They seem to be what Aunty Del was as a person, but I don't even "where" they are being hung, except on a wall. I am left with much work as a reader and a piece this short needs to establish its anchor quickly. In the end, I'm thinking the plates are almost more important than she was. Question for you: why is the procession of her plates "sad?" Again, I'm left guessing.

[tectak]

I love rhyme - I love junk - I love this poem!!

As an antique dealer I see so much of this and you've painted the picture so well that I can even smell this old home!!

No need to apologise for schmalz, rhyme or rhyme scheme for me - oh sorry, I see it wasn't you!! You say this is work in progress with more to come - you could only spoil it now.

Cheers - Richard.

You can come and clear the contents if you like...it's turning in to a nightmare. It's all yours.
Best,
tectak

[Keith]

I wont say I like the edit, I will say I'm glad you added to this, the reader is treated to some delightful images that depict elements of all our aunties and this invites us to feel for her passing just that little bit more. The opening stanza put us in the room eyeing our would be spoils but what we see is a catalog of her life. I have added some comments below but I don't feel it needs much improving. Delightful and a respectful celebration of all aunties of this standing. The alteration throughout smooths the whole piece and stitches all the seams together. Best Keith

But now she’s gone and in her house, shivering with cold and stress,
we gather to assay her life; though loathe to stamp our claims out loud. I can stand in this room and feel the same feelings great opening.
Silently we move around, and smile on every treasure touched;
We carefully handle, bag and box, each broken doll, each crumpled dress,
her photographs, the Oxtail soup, biscuits bought for friends to tea. with tea ? not sure, something seem slightly off
Pink table napkins, new and folded, indicate a woman proud;
pride was virtue in this world of chintzy cherubs and china cups. Is there an a missing before before virtue ? The assonance of chintzy cherubs and china cups I very much enjoyed.
Strange that wealth summed in a life could hide such human poverty.

We look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime. sorry I I found time in grime a little too blunt other may love it though ? JMO
The empty spaces on the wall darkened as her days grew few.
Gaps between each precious place got longer as her passion left.
The last I hooked on to its pin, a week ago, it left no sign.
Another birthday gift had joined the sad procession. We could tell
that no more Blacksmith, Basket Weaver, Flower Girl or Lambing Ewe,
Cheese Purveyor, Fresh Fish Seller, Cobbler, Cooper, Weave and Weft
would ever mean so much again… as once they did to Aunty Del. Nothing to add, wonderful writing


OriginaL
I look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime.
The empty spaces on the wall darkened as her days grew few.
Gaps between each precious place got longer as her passion left.
The last I hooked on to its pin, a week ago, it left no sign.
Another birthday gift had joined the sad procession. We could tell
that no more Blacksmith, Basket Weaver, Flower Girl or Lambing Ewe,
Cheese Purveyor, Fresh Fish Seller, Cobbler, Hooper, Weave and Weft
would ever mean so much again… as once they did to Aunty Del.

Adelice Cansfield
1917-2013

[71degrees]

But now she’s gone and in her house, shivering with cold and stress,
we gather to assay her life; though loathe to stamp our claims out loud.
Silently we move around, and smile on every treasure touched;
We carefully handle, bag and box, each broken doll, each crumpled dress,
her photographs, the Oxtail soup, biscuits bought for friends to tea.
Pink table napkins, new and folded, indicate a woman proud;
pride was virtue in this world of chintzy cherubs and china cups.
Strange that wealth summed in a life could hide such human poverty.

We look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime.
The empty spaces on the wall darkened as her days grew few.
Gaps between each precious place got longer as her passion left.
The last I hooked on to its pin, a week ago, it left no sign.
Another birthday gift had joined the sad procession. We could tell
that no more Blacksmith, Basket Weaver, Flower Girl or Lambing Ewe,
Cheese Purveyor, Fresh Fish Seller, Cobbler, Cooper, Weave and Weft
would ever mean so much again… as once they did to Aunty Del.


OriginaL
I look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime.
The empty spaces on the wall darkened as her days grew few.
Gaps between each precious place got longer as her passion left.
The last I hooked on to its pin, a week ago, it left no sign.
Another birthday gift had joined the sad procession. We could tell
that no more Blacksmith, Basket Weaver, Flower Girl or Lambing Ewe,
Cheese Purveyor, Fresh Fish Seller, Cobbler, Hooper, Weave and Weft
would ever mean so much again… as once they did to Aunty Del.

Adelice Cansfield
1917-2013

Congratulations. To go from the original to this is quite a leap. You answered all my questions from my original post. The only thing is I can't get away from the feeling that the last (and mostly original stanza) sounds more and more to me like an Irish ditty. And I mean this in a respectful way. The "time in grime" together with "sign" propels me through. It's a nice blend. Works okay in stanza one w/"loud / proud"….do we need one more somewhere up there to match the rhythm of the second?

[tectak]

But now she’s gone and in her house, shivering with cold and stress,
we gather to assay her life; though loathe to stamp our claims out loud.
Silently we move around, and smile on every treasure touched;
We carefully handle, bag and box, each broken doll, each crumpled dress,
her photographs, the Oxtail soup, biscuits bought for friends to tea.
Pink table napkins, new and folded, indicate a woman proud;
pride was virtue in this world of chintzy cherubs and china cups.
Strange that wealth summed in a life could hide such human poverty.

We look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime.
The empty spaces on the wall darkened as her days grew few.
Gaps between each precious place got longer as her passion left.
The last I hooked on to its pin, a week ago, it left no sign.
Another birthday gift had joined the sad procession. We could tell
that no more Blacksmith, Basket Weaver, Flower Girl or Lambing Ewe,
Cheese Purveyor, Fresh Fish Seller, Cobbler, Cooper, Weave and Weft
would ever mean so much again… as once they did to Aunty Del.


OriginaL
I look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime. A
The empty spaces on the wall darkened as her days grew few. B
Gaps between each precious place got longer as her passion left. C
The last I hooked on to its pin, a week ago, it left no sign. A
Another birthday gift had joined the sad procession. We could tell D
that no more Blacksmith, Basket Weaver, Flower Girl or Lambing Ewe, B
Cheese Purveyor, Fresh Fish Seller, Cobbler, Hooper, Weave and Weft C
would ever mean so much again… as once they did to Aunty Del. D

Adelice Cansfield
1917-2013

Congratulations. To go from the original to this is quite a leap. You answered all my questions from my original post. The only thing is I can't get away from the feeling that the last (and mostly original stanza) sounds more and more to me like an Irish ditty. And I mean this in a respectful way. The "time in grime" together with "sign" propels me through. It's a nice blend. Works okay in stanza one w/"loud / proud"….do we need one more somewhere up there to match the rhythm of the second?

Hi 71,
Thank you for your meticulous obs.
Your last point is puzzling me....do you mean rhythm or rhyme? I ask because I don't know. I have added the rhyme scheme to the original stanza above. I have used it before. I hope S1 complies.
Best,
tectak

[71degrees]

But now she’s gone and in her house, shivering with cold and stress,
we gather to assay her life; though loathe to stamp our claims out loud.
Silently we move around, and smile on every treasure touched;
We carefully handle, bag and box, each broken doll, each crumpled dress,
her photographs, the Oxtail soup, biscuits bought for friends to tea.
Pink table napkins, new and folded, indicate a woman proud;
pride was virtue in this world of chintzy cherubs and china cups.
Strange that wealth summed in a life could hide such human poverty.

We look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime.
The empty spaces on the wall darkened as her days grew few.
Gaps between each precious place got longer as her passion left.
The last I hooked on to its pin, a week ago, it left no sign.
Another birthday gift had joined the sad procession. We could tell
that no more Blacksmith, Basket Weaver, Flower Girl or Lambing Ewe,
Cheese Purveyor, Fresh Fish Seller, Cobbler, Cooper, Weave and Weft
would ever mean so much again… as once they did to Aunty Del.


OriginaL
I look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime. A
The empty spaces on the wall darkened as her days grew few. B
Gaps between each precious place got longer as her passion left. C
The last I hooked on to its pin, a week ago, it left no sign. A
Another birthday gift had joined the sad procession. We could tell D
that no more Blacksmith, Basket Weaver, Flower Girl or Lambing Ewe, B
Cheese Purveyor, Fresh Fish Seller, Cobbler, Hooper, Weave and Weft C
would ever mean so much again… as once they did to Aunty Del. D

Adelice Cansfield
1917-2013

Congratulations. To go from the original to this is quite a leap. You answered all my questions from my original post. The only thing is I can't get away from the feeling that the last (and mostly original stanza) sounds more and more to me like an Irish ditty. And I mean this in a respectful way. The "time in grime" together with "sign" propels me through. It's a nice blend. Works okay in stanza one w/"loud / proud"….do we need one more somewhere up there to match the rhythm of the second?

Hi 71,
Thank you for your meticulous obs.
Your last point is puzzling me....do you mean rhythm or rhyme? I ask because I don't know. I have added the rhyme scheme to the original stanza above. I have used it before. I hope S1 complies.
Best,
tectak

You're speaking to a poet who strives for rhythm. If rhyme is what it takes to accomplish this (mind you, it doesn't have to) than I love consistency. What I meant was….you have a trifecta of rhyme in the second stanza but only a daily double in the first. I think you have accomplished your goal of "ditty" recognition with what's here (at least in my untrained ears) but for balance, I would find that third sound in the first stanza. I love this poem. I now can "see" Aunty Del…where she lived, who she was. Now I want to "hear" her. Hope this makes sense.

---

Congratulations. To go from the original to this is quite a leap. You answered all my questions from my original post. The only thing is I can't get away from the feeling that the last (and mostly original stanza) sounds more and more to me like an Irish ditty. And I mean this in a respectful way. The "time in grime" together with "sign" propels me through. It's a nice blend. Works okay in stanza one w/"loud / proud"….do we need one more somewhere up there to match the rhythm of the second?

Hi 71,
Thank you for your meticulous obs.
Your last point is puzzling me....do you mean rhythm or rhyme? I ask because I don't know. I have added the rhyme scheme to the original stanza above. I have used it before. I hope S1 complies.
Best,
tectak

You're speaking to a poet who strives for rhythm. If rhyme is what it takes to accomplish this (mind you, it doesn't have to) than I love consistency. What I meant was….you have a trifecta of rhyme in the second stanza but only a daily double in the first. I think you have accomplished your goal of "ditty" recognition with what's here (at least in my untrained ears) but for balance, I would find that third sound in the first stanza. I love this poem. I now can "see" Aunty Del…where she lived, who she was. Now I want to "hear" her. Hope this makes sense.

Oh…I'm sorry. This is a follow up b/c I didn't your attached notes indicating end rhyme. I see "time" (internal) rhyme as that third sound missing from your revision.

[tectak]

Congratulations. To go from the original to this is quite a leap. You answered all my questions from my original post. The only thing is I can't get away from the feeling that the last (and mostly original stanza) sounds more and more to me like an Irish ditty. And I mean this in a respectful way. The "time in grime" together with "sign" propels me through. It's a nice blend. Works okay in stanza one w/"loud / proud"….do we need one more somewhere up there to match the rhythm of the second?

Hi 71,
Thank you for your meticulous obs.
Your last point is puzzling me....do you mean rhythm or rhyme? I ask because I don't know. I have added the rhyme scheme to the original stanza above. I have used it before. I hope S1 complies.
Best,
tectak

You're speaking to a poet who strives for rhythm. If rhyme is what it takes to accomplish this (mind you, it doesn't have to) than I love consistency. What I meant was….you have a trifecta of rhyme in the second stanza but only a daily double in the first. I think you have accomplished your goal of "ditty" recognition with what's here (at least in my untrained ears) but for balance, I would find that third sound in the first stanza. I love this poem. I now can "see" Aunty Del…where she lived, who she was. Now I want to "hear" her. Hope this makes sense.

---

Hi 71,
Thank you for your meticulous obs.
Your last point is puzzling me....do you mean rhythm or rhyme? I ask because I don't know. I have added the rhyme scheme to the original stanza above. I have used it before. I hope S1 complies.
Best,
tectak

You're speaking to a poet who strives for rhythm. If rhyme is what it takes to accomplish this (mind you, it doesn't have to) than I love consistency. What I meant was….you have a trifecta of rhyme in the second stanza but only a daily double in the first. I think you have accomplished your goal of "ditty" recognition with what's here (at least in my untrained ears) but for balance, I would find that third sound in the first stanza. I love this poem. I now can "see" Aunty Del…where she lived, who she was. Now I want to "hear" her. Hope this makes sense.

[Oh…I'm sorry. This is a follow up b/c I didn't your attached notes indicating end rhyme. I see "time" (internal) rhyme as that third sound missing from your revision.

Hi 71,
I much enjoy the ABCA DBCD scheme (there are others) but not for the mechanics of it, though it is a challenge. You proceed EFGE HFGH and so on...the reason I like it is because the rhyme scheme seems obscure enough to permit off-rhymes. I thought you would pick me up on S1,L3 "touched" and "cups"
Best,
Tom

[71degrees]

Hi 71,
Thank you for your meticulous obs.
Your last point is puzzling me....do you mean rhythm or rhyme? I ask because I don't know. I have added the rhyme scheme to the original stanza above. I have used it before. I hope S1 complies.
Best,
tectak

You're speaking to a poet who strives for rhythm. If rhyme is what it takes to accomplish this (mind you, it doesn't have to) than I love consistency. What I meant was….you have a trifecta of rhyme in the second stanza but only a daily double in the first. I think you have accomplished your goal of "ditty" recognition with what's here (at least in my untrained ears) but for balance, I would find that third sound in the first stanza. I love this poem. I now can "see" Aunty Del…where she lived, who she was. Now I want to "hear" her. Hope this makes sense.

---

You're speaking to a poet who strives for rhythm. If rhyme is what it takes to accomplish this (mind you, it doesn't have to) than I love consistency. What I meant was….you have a trifecta of rhyme in the second stanza but only a daily double in the first. I think you have accomplished your goal of "ditty" recognition with what's here (at least in my untrained ears) but for balance, I would find that third sound in the first stanza. I love this poem. I now can "see" Aunty Del…where she lived, who she was. Now I want to "hear" her. Hope this makes sense.

[Oh…I'm sorry. This is a follow up b/c I didn't your attached notes indicating end rhyme. I see "time" (internal) rhyme as that third sound missing from your revision.

Hi 71,
I much enjoy the ABCA DBCD scheme (there are others) but not for the mechanics of it, though it is a challenge. You proceed EFGE HFGH and so on...the reason I like it is because the rhyme scheme seems obscure enough to permit off-rhymes. I thought you would pick me up on S1,L3 "touched" and "cups"
Best,
Tom

If I have to look for it, it ain't strong enough. Sorry. I don't read poems for rhyme schemes. Try harder. ps: And I do like this poem.

[tectak]

You're speaking to a poet who strives for rhythm. If rhyme is what it takes to accomplish this (mind you, it doesn't have to) than I love consistency. What I meant was….you have a trifecta of rhyme in the second stanza but only a daily double in the first. I think you have accomplished your goal of "ditty" recognition with what's here (at least in my untrained ears) but for balance, I would find that third sound in the first stanza. I love this poem. I now can "see" Aunty Del…where she lived, who she was. Now I want to "hear" her. Hope this makes sense.

---

[Oh…I'm sorry. This is a follow up b/c I didn't your attached notes indicating end rhyme. I see "time" (internal) rhyme as that third sound missing from your revision.

Hi 71,
I much enjoy the ABCA DBCD scheme (there are others) but not for the mechanics of it, though it is a challenge. You proceed EFGE HFGH and so on...the reason I like it is because the rhyme scheme seems obscure enough to permit off-rhymes. I thought you would pick me up on S1,L3 "touched" and "cups"
Best,
Tom

If I have to look for it, it ain't strong enough. Sorry. I don't read poems for rhyme schemes. Try harder. ps: And I do like this poem.

Yep...you got it. Everybody needs a holiday!
Best,
Tectak

[crow]

Proofread:

Aunty Del lived here 1917-2013. [the series 1917-2013 should be joined with an en-dash, not a hyphen, but of course you can't do that here.]

--But now she’s gone, and in her house, shivering with cold and stress,
we gather to assay her life; though we're loathe to stamp our claims out loud.

--Silently we move around and smile on every treasure touched;
We carefully handle, bag and box, each broken doll, each crumpled dress,

--her photographs, the Oxtail soup, and biscuits bought for friends to tea.

--Pink table-napkins, new and folded, indicate a woman proud;
pride was virtue in this world of chintzy cherubs and china cups.

--Strange that wealth summed in a life could hide such human poverty. [no changes]

--We look to where she hung her plates, circles of her time in grime.

--The empty spaces on the wall darkened as her days grew few. [no changes]

--Gaps between each precious place got longer as her passion left. [no changes]

--The last, I hooked onto its pin[,/.] a week ago[. It/, it] left no sign.

--Another birthday gift had joined the sad procession. We could tell
that no more Blacksmith, Basket Weaver, Flower Girl or Lambing Ewe,
Cheese Purveyor, Fresh Fish Monger, Cobbler, Cooper, Weave and Weft
would ever mean so much again . . . But [?] once they did to Aunty Del.

[tectak]

Proofread:

Aunty Del lived here 1917-2013. [the series 1917-2013 should be joined with an en-dash, not a hyphen, but of course you can't do that here.]

--But now she’s gone, and in her house, shivering with cold and stress,
we gather to assay her life; though we're loathe to stamp our claims out loud.

--Silently we move around and smile on every treasure touched;
We carefully handle, bag and box, each broken doll, each crumpled dress,

--her photographs, the Oxtail soup, and biscuits bought for friends to tea.

--Pink table-napkins, new and folded, indicate a woman proud;
pride was virtue in this world of chintzy cherubs and china cups.

--Strange that wealth summed in a life could hide such human poverty. [no changes]

--We look to where she hung her plates, circles of her time in grime.

--The empty spaces on the wall darkened as her days grew few. [no changes]

--Gaps between each precious place got longer as her passion left. [no changes]

--The last, I hooked onto its pin[,/.] a week ago[. It/, it] left no sign.

--Another birthday gift had joined the sad procession. We could tell
that no more Blacksmith, Basket Weaver, Flower Girl or Lambing Ewe,
Cheese Purveyor, Fresh Fish Monger, Cobbler, Cooper, Weave and Weft
would ever mean so much again . . . But [?] once they did to Aunty Del.

Hi Crow,
Thank for this. You tidied up the untidy. Credit. Damned hyphen....I will end it all.
Best,
tectak

[Truerenigma]

But now she’s gone and in her house, shivering with cold and stress,
we gather to assay her life, though loathe to stamp our claims out loud.
Should be "though we loathe", another option, to fit your meter, would be "but loathe"
Silently we move around, and smile on every treasure touched;
We carefully handle, bag and box, each broken doll, each crumpled dress,
"we carefully handle, bag, and box each broken doll, each crumpled dress,". also, would it be possible to lose one of the "each's"?
her photographs, the Oxtail soup, biscuits bought for friends to tea.
Pink table napkins, new and folded, indicate a woman proud;
pride was virtue in this world of chintzy cherubs and china cups.
Strange that wealth summed in a life could hide such human poverty.

We look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime.
The empty spaces on the wall darkened as her days grew few.
Grew few may be a bit off; I've never liked such constructs as "grow less", "grow short"--are they growing or shrinking?
Gaps between each precious place "grew" should be here in place of got"—if they're getting longer they are growing—but you spent "grew" above for lesser return. got longer as her passion left.
The last I hooked on to its pin, a week ago, it left no sign.
Another birthday gift had joined the sad procession. We could tell
that no more Blacksmith, Basket Weaver, Flower Girl or Lambing Ewe,
Cheese Purveyor, Fresh Fish Monger, Cobbler, Cooper, Weave and Weft
would ever mean so much again… as once they did to Aunty Del.
"More" does not belong in the above sentence, if you remove some of the listed items you can see: "We could tell that no more Blacksmith would ever mean so much again". Pad if you must, but not at the cost of sense. It may squeak by if you plural all your listed items.



OriginaL
I look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime.
The empty spaces on the wall darkened as her days grew few.
Gaps between each precious place got longer as her passion left.
The last I hooked on to its pin, a week ago, it left no sign.
Another birthday gift had joined the sad procession. We could tell
that no more Blacksmith, Basket Weaver, Flower Girl or Lambing Ewe,
Cheese Purveyor, Fresh Fish Seller, Cobbler, Hooper, Weave and Weft
would ever mean so much again… as once they did to Aunty Del.

Adelice Cansfield
1917-2013

Hi tec, I think there's still some work to be done. The problem with such long lines is filler I think. There are a lot of preps, pro's, lists and general wordiness. I know you want the longer, somber lines—maybe try some longer words?

[crow]

missed one:

We look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime.

Should be either

We look to where she hung her plates, circles of her time in grime.

Or, perhaps more interestingly,

We look to where she hung her plates, at circles of her time in grime.

I'd wanted to focus a micro-edit on this one line and reserve a macro comment for later, but I find myself lost in the macro in a way that, on first read, I didn't seem to be--maybe blame the beers

Now that I've read it through a few more times, I think the Jesus nut is the last line of S1:

"Strange that wealth summed in a life could hide such human poverty."

Perhaps it's intentionally ambiguous, but I'd suggest you recast it w/out the ambiguity I'm about to articulate. I think if prefer a straightforward turn to a mystery, given that there's so much cryptic here already.

So, the line is

Strange that wealth summed in a life could hide such human poverty.

I can read it in many ways, but the extremes are (1) strange that lots of money could hide a paucity of positive/social human traits or (2) strange that genuine evidence of a well-lived life could mask economic despair.

To put a finer point on it, here are two minor rewrites, each of which resolves the ambiguity:

(1) Strange that the summed wealth of a life could hide such human poverty.

vs.

(2) Strange that the summed wealth of life could hide poverty.

Either revision impacts the opening line in dramatic, important fashion. With the first, she's causing more harm post-death; with the second, she's causing the narrator to reflect on the way a good person doesn't ever seem "poor."

Make sense? If not, I can make another go of explaining what I mean . . .

[tectak]

But now she’s gone and in her house, shivering with cold and stress,
we gather to assay her life, though loathe to stamp our claims out loud.
Should be "though we loathe", another option, to fit your meter, would be "but loathe"
Silently we move around, and smile on every treasure touched;
We carefully handle, bag and box, each broken doll, each crumpled dress,
"we carefully handle, bag, and box each broken doll, each crumpled dress,". also, would it be possible to lose one of the "each's"?
her photographs, the Oxtail soup, biscuits bought for friends to tea.
Pink table napkins, new and folded, indicate a woman proud;
pride was virtue in this world of chintzy cherubs and china cups.
Strange that wealth summed in a life could hide such human poverty.

We look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime.
The empty spaces on the wall darkened as her days grew few.
Grew few may be a bit off; I've never liked such constructs as "grow less", "grow short"--are they growing or shrinking?
Gaps between each precious place "grew" should be here in place of got"—if they're getting longer they are growing—but you spent "grew" above for lesser return. got longer as her passion left.
The last I hooked on to its pin, a week ago, it left no sign.
Another birthday gift had joined the sad procession. We could tell
that no more Blacksmith, Basket Weaver, Flower Girl or Lambing Ewe,
Cheese Purveyor, Fresh Fish Monger, Cobbler, Cooper, Weave and Weft
would ever mean so much again… as once they did to Aunty Del.
"More" does not belong in the above sentence, if you remove some of the listed items you can see: "We could tell that no more Blacksmith would ever mean so much again". Pad if you must, but not at the cost of sense. It may squeak by if you plural all your listed items.



OriginaL
I look to where she hung her plates; circles of her time in grime.
The empty spaces on the wall darkened as her days grew few.
Gaps between each precious place got longer as her passion left.
The last I hooked on to its pin, a week ago, it left no sign.
Another birthday gift had joined the sad procession. We could tell
that no more Blacksmith, Basket Weaver, Flower Girl or Lambing Ewe,
Cheese Purveyor, Fresh Fish Seller, Cobbler, Hooper, Weave and Weft
would ever mean so much again… as once they did to Aunty Del.

Adelice Cansfield
1917-2013

Hi tec, I think there's still some work to be done. The problem with such long lines is filler I think. There are a lot of preps, pro's, lists and general wordiness. I know you want the longer, somber lines—maybe try some longer words?

Hi and thanks.
There is possibility that you have not realised that we are not talking about "A" or "some" blacksmith(s) here. The list is the NAME of the plate in the series! Quite right on the "grew few" point. I will change it. Alliteration is not all, at all.
Best,
tectak

[Truerenigma]

I know it's a name. But what is the function of more? In fact, I'd suggest "we could tell that Blacksmith...would never mean as much again

---

It may just be the language gap.

[tectak]

I know it's a name. But what is the function of more? In fact, I'd suggest "we could tell that Blacksmith...would never mean as much again

---

It may just be the language gap.

Yes...yes....I see what you mean now. A change is up. It may not read as well but it maketh more sense. THANK YOU.
Best,
tectak.