"Silent Gift"

[bob68]

Midnight clanged
when her spiraling silhouette anchored down.
Tethered to indomitable irons
your mother's choice to kill herself,
left your world to me.

We summered in Kingston that year. My conscience boomed,
and I imagined death simpler than this. All the superlative magic
of white flowers, and pumped up promises, smashed:
Now, motherless you'd grow,
as seven stars thrummed above your bassinet.

They said you'd never talk. I heard them say
"your daughter's deformed, and permanently mute."
Crib-side that evening I held you,
until the mewling hours
sifted truth through my ears.

By your fourth year, you pantomimed gestures with grimaces
and limbs awkward to me. Together we watched the apple trees
spangled with their gems. On days when you did try to speak
vowels swarmed in your throat, and stirred like sour paste.
I hurried to decipher every utterance.

I learned to listen. Silence uncoiled a revelation in me.
Today, my daughter Carolyn. I visit the apple trees
windfall sweeps the morning like a departing ghost,
and time has carved me whole -
There was new fruit after this.

[Erthona]

bob68,

I had to read stanza 1 several times until I maybe got what you were saying.

"Midnight clanged
when her spiraling silhouette anchored down. (This makes little sense)
Tethered to indomitable irons (isn't "indomitable" a bit repetitious)
your mother's choice to kill herself,
left your world to me." (Shouldn't this be "left you to me")

There is way too much repetitiousness through out .

apple trees spangled with their gems (I don't think "spangled" is a good word choice as it does not really apply, and as it is in present tense it should probably be "spangling".

There are a number of other things, but I guess I'll leave it at that.

welcome to the site.

Dale

[billy]

hi bob, in general it's to hard to follow. and feels a lot like prose in places. the 1st stanza is too ambiguous and stops the reader from continuing, the 2nd stanza was much better. and then it become prosey

Midnight clanged
when her spiraling silhouette anchored down.
Tethered to indomitable irons
your mother's choice to kill herself,
left your world to me.

We summered in Kingston that year. My conscience boomed,
and I imagined death simpler than this. All the superlative magic
of white flowers, and pumped up promises, smashed:
Now, motherless you'd grow,
as seven stars thrummed above your bassinet. this stanza works, there's some enjambment, some imagery, the reader can understand what's being read.

They said you'd never talk. I heard them say no need for the second part of the phrase. pick one phrase or the other but not both [who said?]
"your daughter's deformed, and permanently mute."
Crib-side that evening I held you,
until the mewling hours
sifted truth through my ears.

By your fourth year, you pantomimed gestures with grimaces
and limbs awkward to me. Together we watched the apple trees
spangled with their gems. On days when you did try to speak
vowels swarmed in your throat, and stirred like sour paste.
I hurried to decipher every utterance.

I learned to listen. Silence uncoiled a revelation in me.
Today, my daughter Carolyn. I visit the apple trees
windfall sweeps the morning like a departing ghost,
and time has carved me whole -
There was new fruit after this.

[danny_]

hi Bob,
the idea itself that you are trying to express is very touching, and you're close. i can tell you have the energy and feeling needed to reach the true expression. overall the chosen words to me seem a little off, a bit wordy. you can still reach the reader with simple phrases and good similes. i really like the moments you describe, but i think i'm relying a bit on my imagination to cut through some odd wording. not sure why silenced is "uncoiled", but maybe i've never heard that phrase. not sure about "stirred like sour paste." the whole thing might works best as prose. definitely keep going.

[bob68]

hi Bob,
the idea itself that you are trying to express is very touching, and you're close. i can tell you have the energy and feeling needed to reach the true expression. overall the chosen words to me seem a little off, a bit wordy. you can still reach the reader with simple phrases and good similes. i really like the moments you describe, but i think i'm relying a bit on my imagination to cut through some odd wording. not sure why silenced is "uncoiled", but maybe i've never heard that phrase. not sure about "stirred like sour paste." the whole thing might works best as prose. definitely keep going.

Thanks for the input Danny.

[danny_]

on second look i meant to say not sure about use of the word "uncoiled", i see it's a revelation being uncoiled, not silence being uncoiled. it's just that word itself i'm not sure about. as a suggestion maybe you would rethink that whole line and not say "silence" either because it's only silence on his part, not hers, right? i'm guessing that in being quiet the father started to really see hope or progress in his daughter that he didn't see before. but that could be made more clear.

[justcloudy]

I disagree with the other critiques about it being unclear. It took a few reads but the whole story was clear to me, and touching.

I do agree with the comments about word choice. Some of it is superfluous, some of it is just for show. You don't need uncommon or big words to write good poetry-- you need uncommon or big ideas. And this is one of them. So don't give up on this story.

As an exercise, try putting the main idea of each stanza into one line or sentence. I think you could. Then see what you can rebuild from there.

This needs some work, but more importantly it deserves some work. Looking forward to an edit.

-justcloudy

[bob68]

I disagree with the other critiques about it being unclear. It took a few reads but the whole story was clear to me, and touching.

I do agree with the comments about word choice. Some of it is superfluous, some of it is just for show. You don't need uncommon or big words to write good poetry-- you need uncommon or big ideas. And this is one of them. So don't give up on this story.

As an exercise, try putting the main idea of each stanza into one line or sentence. I think you could. Then see what you can rebuild from there.

This needs some work, but more importantly it deserves some work. Looking forward to an edit.

-justcloudy

Thanks for the feedback cloudy.

[zahrakh]

First thing I noticed was that you kept using full stops in lines like
We summered in Kingston that year. My
conscience boomed,
and I imagined death simpler than this. All the
superlative magic

And perhaps you'd want to simplify the language a bit, too much flowery language can damage flow of thoughts. Hope it helps.

[ellajam]

Hi, bob, there's a lot to like here and some points that stick no matter how many times I read. Here are some notes.

Midnight clanged
when her spiraling silhouette anchored down.
Tethered to indomitable irons
your mother's choice to kill herself,
left your world to me.
I struggle with silhouette. I'm not sure what "midnight clanged" adds. I'd prefer the comma after irons instead of herself. "left your world to me" is strong."

We summered in Kingston that year. My conscience boomed,
and I imagined death simpler than this. All the superlative magic
of white flowers, and pumped up promises, smashed:
Now, motherless you'd grow,
as seven stars thrummed above your bassinet.
boomed sounds off to me even though it gets your point across. I'm not sure if white flowers are the wedding or funeral bouquet, which I like. Maybe something other than "motherless", which you've already said, something that describes a motherless life.

They said you'd never talk. I heard them say
"your daughter's deformed, and permanently mute."
Crib-side that evening I held you,
until the mewling hours
sifted truth through my ears.


By your fourth year, you pantomimed gestures with grimaces
and limbs awkward to me. Together we watched the apple trees
spangled with their gems. On days when you did try to speak
vowels swarmed in your throat, and stirred like sour paste.
I hurried to decipher every utterance.
All the above works for me. I like the spangled, it implies turning the everyday into jewels. Sour paste is strong, the last line a parent's heart, though I'm not sure about hurried.

I learned to listen. Silence uncoiled a revelation in me.
Today, my daughter Carolyn. I visit the apple trees
windfall sweeps the morning like a departing ghost,
and time has carved me whole -
There was new fruit after this.
Today, my daughter Carolyn. Did you mean to have a period here? It brings an awkwardness. The last line is not one of my favorites, the previous line is.

Well, as happens sometimes, I wrote more than I meant to, I hope some of it helps.

Sidenote: You've posted enough to become a full member of the Pigpen and move out of the Newly Registered Forum.

Thanks for the read.