Hail Mary

[tectak]

Mary died a week ago.
I can't let go.I can't let go.
I loved her when hair turned grey.
Like yesterday.Like yesterday.
I touched her hand and stroked her brow.
A memory now. A memory now.
We said goodbye and cried for you.
Friends loved you, too, they loved you, too.
Alone now with your photograph.
I hear you laugh. I hear you laugh.
I sleep and hold the pillow tight.
Alone at  night. Alone at  night.
In chill dawn air I make  believe.
I hear you breathe. I hear you breathe.
I doze beside you in the shade .
A dream we made. A dream we made.
Mary died a week ago
but still I see her hair of grey,
and touch her hand
and stroke her brow.
Her photograph is on the bed
propped on her pillow by my head.
How I cried last night for her
yet in each moment she is there.
A dream we made. Remember me.
And I do, my Hail Mary.
tectak 2015
(any similarities to persons alive or dead etc)

[just mercedes]

Mary died a week ago.
I can't let go.I can't let go.
I loved her when hair turned grey. Did you miss 'her' - should that be 'her hair'?
Like yesterday.Like yesterday.
I touched her hand and stroked her brow.
A memory now. A memory now.
We said goodbye and cried for you. 'Her' has become 'you'
Friends loved you, too, they loved you, too.
Alone now with your photograph.
I hear you laugh. I hear you laugh.
I sleep and hold the pillow tight. Do you really know what you do when you sleep?
Alone at  night. Alone at  night.
In chill dawn air I make  believe.
I hear you breathe. I hear you breathe.For some reason this really gets me
I doze beside you in the shade .
A dream we made. A dream we made. The transition from repeated lines feels too abrupt. Maybe it would work better if a new stanza began with the next line
Mary died a week ago
but still I see her hair of grey,
and touch her hand
and stroke her brow. You've used strong rhymes until now - the ago/brow doesn't work in my accent.
Her photograph is on the bed
propped on her pillow by my head.
How I cried last night for her
yet in each moment she is there.
A dream we made. Remember me.
And I do, my Hail Mary. The meter is lost in the last word of the last line. Not sure I like it.
tectak 2015
(any similarities to persons alive or dead etc)

I love the plaintive feel of the first part of the poem, with the repeats. I'm too anal I know - I want the whole poem to do this. For me the hybrid form lets it down.

[tectak]

Mary died a week ago.
I can't let go.I can't let go.
I loved her when hair turned grey. Did you miss 'her' - should that be 'her hair'?
Like yesterday.Like yesterday.
I touched her hand and stroked her brow.
A memory now. A memory now.
We said goodbye and cried for you. 'Her' has become 'you'
Friends loved you, too, they loved you, too.
Alone now with your photograph.
I hear you laugh. I hear you laugh.
I sleep and hold the pillow tight. Do you really know what you do when you sleep?
Alone at  night. Alone at  night.
In chill dawn air I make  believe.
I hear you breathe. I hear you breathe.For some reason this really gets me
I doze beside you in the shade .
A dream we made. A dream we made. The transition from repeated lines feels too abrupt. Maybe it would work better if a new stanza began with the next line
Mary died a week ago
but still I see her hair of grey,
and touch her hand
and stroke her brow. You've used strong rhymes until now - the ago/brow doesn't work in my accent.
Her photograph is on the bed
propped on her pillow by my head.
How I cried last night for her
yet in each moment she is there.
A dream we made. Remember me.
And I do, my Hail Mary. The meter is lost in the last word of the last line. Not sure I like it.
tectak 2015
(any similarities to persons alive or dead etc)

I love the plaintive feel of the first part of the poem, with the repeats. I'm too anal I know - I want the whole poem to do this. For me the hybrid form lets it down.

All valid crit, merc. To admit this early on that the alternative, and lingua in maxillam, generic title is "Mouth Wash", may be a mistake. I am trying to write complex feelings using simple words.
I will adjust with every crit as a mouth cleansing experiment...to see if it get clearer or muddier.
Best,
tectak

[Leah S.]

I want the repeats to carry over to the second half. I want Mary to be either 'her' or 'you.' I want to know why you call her 'my Hail Mary.' Is she a prayer? Did someone assign her to you as penance? Is she full of grace? I want your rhyme scheme to be consistent. A poem as simple as this, about the death of someone you ferociously grieve for, should cause me to shed tears by the end. It doesn't, yet. Carry on. Leah

[tectak]

G'morning Tectak,

I don't know if any of my comments will be of use to you, but will still try here. Like JM mentioned in her crit, the switch from "her" to "you" is jarring and the reader (like moi) may wonder why that was done. JD Salinger gets away with that stuff so I guess any writer can(?) But if you decide to do that it seems to me like there oughta be a good reason. If you decide to match them up, this reader prefers "you" because it feels more poignant talking directly to Mary.


Let's just play around with it and see what changes when that is done - I'm just curious.

Mary, you died a week ago.
I can't let go. I can't let go.

I loved her when your hair turned grey.
Like yesterday. Like yesterday. (How about trying "just" instead of "like" to show how near the death feels to the speaker?)

I touched her your hand and stroked her your brow.
A memory now. A memory now.

We said goodbye and cried for you.
Friends loved you, too, they loved you, too.

Alone now with your photograph.
I hear you laugh. I hear you laugh.

I sleep and hold the pillow tight.
Alone at  night. Alone at  night.

In chill dawn air I make  believe.  ("chill dawn air" sounds contrived, how about "brisk" like it's waking him up)
I hear you breathe. I hear you breathe. (I like this too.)

I doze beside you in the shade.
A dream we made. A dream we made.

Mary, you died   (or to get it to rhyme - Mary, you passed away, it's been a week (or it's been "seven days" to express a week differently).
[b]but I see your flushed cheek ???????

Your photograph is propped on the bed
on a pillow near my head, on a pillow near my head

Or what about---

And in each moment you're not my boss------.
I cry for your loss
I cry for your loss.  Ok I'm joking but you could add a twist in the end.

yet in each moment she is there. (do you really need these last lines?  It's been covered already)
A dream we made. Remember me.
And I do, my Hail Mary. The meter is lost in the last word of the last line. Not sure I like it.
tectak 2015
(any similarities to persons alive or dead etc)

Is this a form that I'm not aware of?  I enjoyed reading the poem.  I'm bad at rhyme but you get what I'm saying.  Couplets would work nicely with this form of double rhyme.  In reading this again I see you have two bed scenes and may want to omit one of them. 

Anne[/b]

Hi anne,
not to diminish in ANY way the points you make...thank you...but the version 2 is up and may be more condensed in meaning. That is what I am trying to do,here.
Best,
trctsk

---

I want the repeats to carry over to the second half. I want Mary to be either 'her' or 'you.' I want to know why you call her 'my Hail Mary.' Is she a prayer? Did someone assign her to you as penance? Is she full of grace? I want your rhyme scheme to be consistent. A poem as simple as this, about the death of someone you ferociously grieve for, should cause me to shed tears by the end. It doesn't, yet. Carry on. Leah

Hi leah,
Thanks for this. I actually heeded your words in version.2.
The rest, as they say, is history. Or will be.
The religious dip at the end is meant to be characteristically the sinking of the saddened soul in to the solace of late spiritual revival. God, his  cohorts and effects, get dragged in to grief at the most unlikely moments and often with nothing more than a mantra to show for it. I was in the difficult circumstance many years ago when a friend of no religious persuasion chanted oh mother of Jesus oh mother of Jesus oh mother of Jesus for more than an hour after notification of the death of her partener. She never mentioned Jesus or his dad again...at least not in my presence.
Hail Marie.
tectak

[Mark A Becker]

Hello tectak-
I won't go through this poem line by line because the issues that I see are prevalent throughout.

I thought there might be trouble when I read the title, and ...

The line segment repetitions get tedious after the first one.  This kind of trap is easy to fall into because it seems like a good idea at first.  At first.  However, this reader sees it as an annoying ploy, and I could not get the sound of a parrot out of my ears, out of my ears, by the third time around. By the third time around. (See?)  

The rhyming gives off a sing-songy sound that is directly opposed to the serious tone of the poem.

The persistent end-stops of the lines also work against the feel of the piece, especially when some creative line breaking could help convey an inner struggle to hold on to a memory.

This poem needs a whole lot of work, and I'm glad that you let us know that there are no similarities, etc.   The laundry list nature of the lines destroys any sense of connection between the characters, which is unfortunately reinforced by the appearance of the title at the very end.

To me, this is more an example of a poet's desire to be clever, than a desire to convey a sense of loss.  I have been guilty of that too many times not to recognize it.

Sorry if this seems too harsh, but that's my take.

Please note that I try not to read other critiques until I've read through a piece several times and developed my own response.  

Overall, it's either back to the drawing board, or into the bin, with this one.

...Mark    

[tectak]

Hello tectak-
I won't go through this poem line by line because the issues that I see are prevalent throughout.

I thought there might be trouble when I read the title, and ...

The line segment repetitions get tedious after the first one.  This kind of trap is easy to fall into because it seems like a good idea at first.  At first.  However, this reader sees it as an annoying ploy, and I could not get the sound of a parrot out of my ears, out of my ears, by the third time around. By the third time around. (See?)  

The rhyming gives off a sing-songy sound that is directly opposed to the serious tone of the poem.

The persistent end-stops of the lines also work against the feel of the piece, especially when some creative line breaking could help convey an inner struggle to hold on to a memory.

This poem needs a whole lot of work, and I'm glad that you let us know that there are no similarities, etc.   The laundry list nature of the lines destroys any sense of connection between the characters, which is unfortunately reinforced by the appearance of the title at the very end.

To me, this is more an example of a poet's desire to be clever, than a desire to convey a sense of loss.  I have been guilty of that too many times not to recognize it.

Sorry if this seems too harsh, but that's my take.

Please note that I try not to read other critiques until I've read through a piece several times and developed my own response.  

Overall, it's either back to the drawing board, or into the bin, with this one.

...Mark    

Hi mark,
You come late to the wake but you can still make your piece...er...peace. Yes to almost all your comments but this IS lingua in maxillam though I don't excuse the effort on this or any ground. I try not to do "clever" by my definition but all is subjective...I hope that is not offensive.
A rewrite may be overdue but there is more to this piece than I am prepared to include...yet. Do not bin anything...you never know what you've got 'til it's gone!
Thanks again. I eat all crit.
Best,
tectak

[Mark A Becker]

Hello tectak-
I won't go through this poem line by line because the issues that I see are prevalent throughout.

I thought there might be trouble when I read the title, and ...

The line segment repetitions get tedious after the first one.  This kind of trap is easy to fall into because it seems like a good idea at first.  At first.  However, this reader sees it as an annoying ploy, and I could not get the sound of a parrot out of my ears, out of my ears, by the third time around. By the third time around. (See?)  

The rhyming gives off a sing-songy sound that is directly opposed to the serious tone of the poem.

The persistent end-stops of the lines also work against the feel of the piece, especially when some creative line breaking could help convey an inner struggle to hold on to a memory.

This poem needs a whole lot of work, and I'm glad that you let us know that there are no similarities, etc.   The laundry list nature of the lines destroys any sense of connection between the characters, which is unfortunately reinforced by the appearance of the title at the very end.

To me, this is more an example of a poet's desire to be clever, than a desire to convey a sense of loss.  I have been guilty of that too many times not to recognize it.

Sorry if this seems too harsh, but that's my take.

Please note that I try not to read other critiques until I've read through a piece several times and developed my own response.  

Overall, it's either back to the drawing board, or into the bin, with this one.

...Mark    

Hi mark,
You come late to the wake but you can still make your piece...er...peace. Yes to almost all your comments but this IS lingua in maxillam though I don't excuse the effort  on this or any ground. I try not to do "clever" by my definition but all is subjective...I hope that is not offensive.
A rewrite may be overdue but there is more to this piece than I am prepared to include...yet. Do not bin anything...you  never know what you've got 'til it's gone!
Thanks again. I eat all crit.
Best,
tectak

Hello again tectak,
I'm always late to the wake, probably will be even for my own. Please understand that I do not find your comment offensive in the least. I almost had to laugh out loud that you might think I'd be so inclined. But since you don't know me, you'd never know that, by my definition, I'm not easily offended. Even when I am, I find it nearly impossible to hold any grudges.

I don't know if I can follow the "do not bin" advice, because I'm a notorious bin filler. Especially with a "delete" key at my disposal. Clearing out my memory seems essential at this stage of my life, since less and less seems to fit between my ears anymore. At least I try to throw everything in one bin, just in case I might remember why I'd need to un-bin something.

... Mark