Mourning

[crow]

Mourning 

Her fragile keen, so felt, so slow, so rude,
desists upon my entering the room.
Like a death at a parade, my steps on grief intrude;
like scissors on a butterfly they move.
I wish she would lament as mothers do,
terribly, instead of cooing to herself,
instead of refusing to look around for me,
losing sight of her grief instead.

I crushed a junebug to guts and tatters once.
Its wings and legs came unglued. Puzzlingly,
it'd ceased to be,
And, overcome with distress, I buried her
and chalked "June" on a rock with a rock,
and cried desperately. O, weary woman, too,
cry and cry and cry til your eyes turn blue.

[cotidiano]

The narrative of this piece felt quite accessible/straightforward, which is an infrequent experience for me. To summarize my interpretation: the narrator wishes his/her mother would grieve openly in the same way he/she mourned for the junebug. Why the mother is crying, I'm not sure--perhaps the reason doesn't matter. For a moment, I almost wondered if the narrator was dead and watching his/her mother grieve as a ghost or something. I'm probably entirely off-base with that, haha.

I wasn't sure what to make of the lines "instead of refusing to look around for me, losing sight of her grief instead." In addition, the three repeated "instead's" sounded off to me; I think it's the structure of the last line of the first stanza that's provoking my negative reaction:
"instead of cooing to herself,
instead of refusing to look around for me,
losing sight of her grief instead." >> I can sense that the repetition might be intentional, but the last "instead" here falls flat for me.

A small change for this line:
"Like a death at a parade, my steps on grief intrude;" >> You could omit the "a" before "death," so that it reads a little smoother as "Like death at a parade, my steps on grief intrude."

Thanks for sharing!

[crow]

The narrator's a ghost, yeah. That's why it's "a death."

[tectak]

Mourning 
Her fragile keen, so felt, so slow, so rude,
desists upon my entering the room. "desists" is perfect.
Like a death at a parade, my steps on grief intrude; Again, as an appreciation of circumstance, this is beautifully moot. I have said this before on the use of the semicolon...beware the reversal. You make a great metaphorical statement...clear, precise, well judged and meant. The "scissors on a butterfly" is so good that I almost wish you would save it for later. Put it somewhere out of competition with the "death at a parade". Oh, back to the "a" before death. I ,too, think you could loose it advantageously.
like scissors on a butterfly they move.
I wish she would lament as mothers do,
terribly, instead of cooing to herself, Small nit. The keen is not a coo.
instead of refusing to look around for me,
losing sight of her grief instead. Because I expect clarity from you, crow...this disappoints. I think it is just word order.
I crushed a junebug to guts and tatters once. Hmmm. I am sure a comma would help after "tatters". Your poem.
Its wings and legs came unglued. Puzzlingly, ...and if that comma were there, you MAY hear this line ring without the "its".
it'd ceased to be, Must be a colloquialism. "Puzzlingly, it ceased to be", surely? Discuss "It had ceased to be" without mentioning a dead parrot.
And, overcome with distress, I buried her To save you the trouble of cursor>back delete>a, just delete "And". If this dead, disjointed junebug is now a female, then presumably that gendre assignation should apply to the "Its wings" above. So "her wings" unless disassociation causes instant sexual differentiation... I have wondered about that, not.
and chalked "June" on a rock with a rock,
and cried desperately. O, weary woman, too, too?, too? No. Doesn't work
cry and cry and cry til your eyes turn blue. Perhaps one cry too many...to keen?

Stunningly contrived so that it appears uncontrived. There is some question over SOME of the phraseology...as if good enough would do...like applying a quantitative moderator to the abstract verb ,"felt". I found this so tried...if you get my drift.
Apart from the bad bits which are few, the good bits are better than the average curate's egg.
Very well done from me.
Best,
tectak[/b][/b]

[billy]

i'm guessing the funeral is [hers]. when you eneter a room you can't feel here because she disists. for me this is the main sticking point. is it that you sense her in the the objects of the room, that the room is her to some extent? while it reads okay, i still don't feel i know enough of the dead her. the 2nd thing that could be done better are some of the end phrases on a few lines. they feel forced some i can see are done to it the enjambment. some don't work so well. two places in the poem have end rhymes, after the inital read i thought it was verse. specially because of the last too lines. (the last one being one of the forced lines i mentioned.) thanks for the read.

Mourning 

Her fragile keen, so felt, so slow, so rude, i have to google this instance of [keen] even though i think i know what it means, after the google i have to say i can't make keen work
desists upon my entering the room. if this is true, how do you know it was there to start with
Like a death at a parade, my steps on grief intrude;
like scissors on a butterfly they move.they move do they? isn't it a given?
I wish she would lament as mothers do,
terribly, instead of cooing to herself,
instead of refusing to look around for me,
losing sight of her grief instead.

I crushed a junebug to guts and tatters once.
Its wings and legs came unglued. Puzzlingly,
it'd ceased to be,
And, overcome with distress, I buried her why the capped [a] how did you know it was a [her]?
and chalked "June" on a rock with a rock, i do like the double up on this line, [much better than the double of [grief]
and cried desperately. O, weary woman, too,
cry and cry and cry til your eyes turn blue. the rhyme feels forced.

[crow]

humbled, y'all. great eyes.

[just mercedes]

On first read I wondered why this wasn't quite a contemporary sonnet - why the extra line? I've been mourning myself, the death of a pet, and your poem really got through to me - you describe a complex scene, without bathos or pathos.



Mourning 

Her fragile keen, so felt, so slow, so rude,
desists upon my entering the room.
Like a death at a parade, my steps on grief intrude; the inverted work order grates, for me
like scissors on a butterfly they move. not keen on the second 'like'
I wish she would lament as mothers do,
terribly, instead of cooing to herself, a 'keen' is not quite a 'coo' - I think this could be clearer
instead of refusing to look around for me,
losing sight of her grief instead.

I crushed a junebug to guts and tatters once. The contrast is violent - love it
Its wings and legs came unglued. Puzzlingly,
it'd ceased to be,
And, overcome with distress, I buried her 'its wings', 'it had ceased to be' yet ' buried her'?
and chalked "June" on a rock with a rock,
and cried desperately. O, weary woman, too,
cry and cry and cry til your eyes turn blue. Love this effective anaphora

[none]

This poem has a strong sense of disconnect in my opinion.

The first thing that come to mind; how old is the narrator?

Judging from the way the poem is narrated, the narrator would be an adult at the time of his death. Yet, these lines don't really make sense to me:

Its wings and legs came unglued. Puzzlingly,
it'd ceased to be,

Why would any adult be puzzled by a crushed dead bug? Could it be that the ghost is reminiscing his childhood? If so, what kind of child would say something like:

O, weary woman, too,
cry and cry and cry til your eyes turn blue.

?

Or are those lines a reference to what currently transpire at the time the narrative is spoken? But that can't be so because the woman isn't crying;

I wish she would lament as mothers do,
terribly, instead of cooing to herself,

And what on earth;

like scissors on a butterfly they move.

is suppose to mean?

Beautiful words forced in too much into the poem, making the allusions/metaphors nonsensical, contradictory and absurd.

[Leah S.]

Mourning 
Her fragile keen, so felt, so slow, so rude,
desists upon my entering the room.
Like a death at a parade, my steps on grief intrude;
like scissors on a butterfly they move.
I wish she would lament as mothers do,
terribly, instead of cooing to herself,
instead of refusing to look around for me,
losing sight of her grief instead.
I crushed a junebug to guts and tatters once.
Its wings and legs came unglued. Puzzlingly,
it'd ceased to be,
And, overcome with distress, I buried her
and chalked "June" on a rock with a rock,
and cried desperately. O, weary woman, too,
cry and cry and cry til your eyes turn blue.

Lines 6,7,8's syntax is confusing to me, You begin L6,7 with "instead of" and end L8 with "instead." This makes the sense come out as this: because she coos to herself, because she refuses to look around for you, she has lost sight of her grief. I think you meant that because she desisted when you came into the room, she lost sight of her grief, but I'm not sure. It also seems you might mean you wish she would lose sight of her grief instead of managing it so carefully.
Steps "moving like scissors on a butterfly" is really powerful!
Not so sure about "a death at a parade" but maybe I'm over-thinking it.
I don't get the connection in "eyes turn blue,". It needs some previous reference I think. Because it is the conclusion it should tie the whole poem together, but it doesn't. At least I can't think of any connection between blue eyes and grief, mourning, or weariness. Am I missing something?
I can't tell if your line-end rhymes are random or deliberate, but they are there, and because they are few, they invite me to notice them. Is there some deeper significance to the pairing of "rude" and "intrude"; "too" and "blue"?
L11:  "it'd" is awkward, and "it had" will scan nearly the same, if that is important.
I found myself drawn to examining your scansion, but I decided that it was natural and intrinsic, and I hesitate to suggest that you examine it. Fooling with it might could lead to the poem sounding contrived. Note, though, the perfect syllabic match in the pairing of "so felt, so slow, so rude" with "my steps on grief intrude;" which isn't repeated anywhere else. It really makes those lines stand out. Add the rhyme and they fairly leap out at me. Beautiful poem.

---

i'm guessing the funeral is [hers]. when you eneter a room you can't feel here because she disists. for me this is the main sticking point. is it that you sense her in the the objects of the room, that the room is her to some extent? while it reads okay, i still don't feel i know enough of the dead her. the 2nd thing that could be done better are some of the end phrases on a few lines. they feel forced  some i can see are done to it the enjambment. some don't work so well. two places in the poem have end rhymes, after the inital read i thought it was verse. specially because of the last too lines. (the last one being one of the forced lines i mentioned.) thanks for the read.

Mourning 
Her fragile keen, so felt, so slow, so rude, i have to google this instance of [keen] even though i think i know what it means, after the google i have to say i can't make keen work desists upon my entering the room. if this is true, how do you know it was there to start with
Like a death at a parade, my steps on grief intrude;
like scissors on a butterfly they move.they move do they? isn't it a given?
I wish she would lament as mothers do,
terribly, instead of cooing to herself,
instead of refusing to look around for me,
losing sight of her grief instead.
I crushed a junebug to guts and tatters once.
Its wings and legs came unglued. Puzzlingly,
it'd ceased to be,
And, overcome with distress, I buried her why the capped [a] how did you know it was a [her]?
and chalked "June" on a rock with a rock, i do like the double up on this line, [much better than the double of [grief]
and cried desperately. O, weary woman, too,
cry and cry and cry til your eyes turn blue. the rhyme feels forced.