Letter to a Lover, From a Mama's Boy

[BW BRINE]

I’m waiting for the holiday to amplify my mood;
the change is taking longer than it should.
And even though your relatives are having lots of fun,
I am not feeling even slightly good.

The Christmas tree is glowing with a headache-causing hue.
The cookies have way too much cinnamon.
And every time aunt Lisa laughs I feel like I will die;
her voice, to me, is a carcinogen.

I chose to leave this letter so you would know where I am;
I wouldn’t ever want you to feel blue.
Forgive me - I’m a coward - and I don’t deserve your love.
Please tell aunt Lisa that it’s her not you.

Maybe there is something wrong with me.
There’s a decent chance I won’t recover.
Just like all the other men who failed to carry on,
I will go back home to live with mother.

-BW BRINE

[burrealist]

I’m waiting for the holiday to amplify my mood; (What holiday? You don't tell us until the second stanza. Perhaps saying "a holiday" will enhance the elusive mood amplified by the absence of whatever holiday you're alluding to.)
the change is taking longer than it should. (This line is so basic. The mood is not amplified. Holidays and seasonal changes go hand-in-hand. This is an opportunity to use metaphorical or symbolic language to exemplify a seasonal change taking it's time. Maybe you can use colors: orange and brown changing their shade to red and green. This second line can remain as elusive as the first, and still suggest the holiday you're going to eventually refer to us.)
And even though your relatives are having lots of fun, (You've changed. You have now become me. I don't know why my relatives are so relevant. We are still talking about your relatives, I hope. maybe you can say "my relatives" to remain on-topic.)
I am not feeling even slightly good. (Again, this is very blunt and yet you have overlooked an opportunity to use striking language to elude to the Christmas holiday in the next stanza. How can your bad feelings relate to the jolly joys of an upcoming Christmas? Christmas comes in the next line, so maybe it's come too soon? This is your poem, so don't underrate your ability to show us what you are really feeling. And do not underrate your ability to stay focused on the subject-matter. There is a whole world of holiday material at your disposal- use it. Abuse it. Make it ironic and sarcastic.)

The Christmas tree is glowing with a headache-causing hue. (Now that's more like it!)
The cookies have way too much cinnamon. (Does the cinnamon churn your stomach like the holiday choir's screeching?)
And every time aunt Lisa laughs I feel like I will die; (Maybe Lisa's screeching is worse. This is hilarious right here. I want to know why her laughing induces suicidal tendencies in you.)
her voice, to me, is a carcinogen. (So here we have an answer. Carcinogen. Causes cancer. Christmas is a kind of cancer. Also, cancer, carcinogen, and cinnamon all use hissy "C" sounds that amplify the irritation you're feeling. Not to mention the rhyme and consonance between cinnamon and carcinogen, connecting the two together. This whole stanza works its wonders. I wish the first stanza worked this way, too.)

I chose to leave this letter so you would know where I am; (I didn't know you were writing a letter. But it's in the title- silly me. I think the fact that this is a letter hasn't been realized in the body of the poem until now. Perhaps opening the whole poem with a suggestion that this is a letter will clarify any confusion felt by dimwitted people like me. Maybe even saying "Dear, dear... Oh dear." Something witty and sarcastic to capture the feeling in a halmark remark.)
I wouldn’t ever want you to feel blue. (That's sweet.)
Forgive me - I’m a coward - and I don’t deserve your love. (Oh, how sentimental.)
Please tell aunt Lisa that it’s her not you. (I like this line.)

Maybe there is something wrong with me. (Stop feeling sorry for yourself.)
There’s a decent chance I won’t recover.
Just like all the other men who failed to carry on, (Oh, so she's been around?)
I will go back home to live with mother. (Overall, good poem. Hopefully you'll revise each line and work on the context they each possess, then reflect how each line's context hold the poem together as a whole.)

-BW BRINE

[burrealist]

Please forgive a few mistakes I made in my critique:

I said "elude". No. I meant "allude".

I suggested that you change "your relatives", but I was wrong. I did not read the entire piece before giving my critique, so I was mistaken as to which family you were referring to. Later, though, I realized my mistake after I already posted the critique.

So I should spend time revising before posting, however yesterday I was rushed out the door. Sorry about that.

[egr]

The Christmas tree is glowing with a headache-causing hue. "headache-causing hue" is clunky; I suppose you were going for alliteration on the Hs? nauseating would work better, or something entirely different since that's a bit familiar
The cookies have way too much cinnamon. this line needs MORE cinnamon cause right now it's pretty dull. Say it out loud to yourself.
And every time aunt Lisa laughs I feel like I will die; "I will" would sound a lot better as "I'll"
her voice, to me, is a carcinogen. "to me"? We know it's to the speaker because he's telling us so. Again, this is thrown in simply to make the pattern complete. Ouch.

For me, this is the only workable stanza. Too many of the other lines add nothing. The language is generally prosaic; as Todd aptly put it, "basic".

Now, that being said, I think you have a great start with this stanza and the general idea of holiday angst. I'd like to see you incorporate the dig at Lisa ("her, not you"). I also want the mama's boy motif to either take on a bigger role in the poem or be removed. You have it in the title and last line, but it seems random in context. Sounds more like issues with Aunt Lisa than lover and mama combined.

For me the main issue is that you've forced yourself to rhyme in a strange meter (which, by the way, fell apart completely in the last stanza), resulting in some super awkward syntax and bland filler to accommodate. I'd scratch one or the other (rhyme or meter) or BOTH for now, until you can really make it sing like a Christmas carol.  cinnamon/carcinogen is really interesting and unexpected, so if you do stick with rhyme, keep those in mind.

I'd like to see you take this further, adding more concrete imagery as in the second stanza. Good luck! EGR

[almonds]

Well, BW BRINE, bless you and your heartaches;
Tried to help you mate.

I’m waiting for the holiday to amplify my mood;
the change is taking longer than it should.
And even though your relatives are having lots of fun,
I am not feeling even slightly good.                                      - This line sounds quite awkward and not in harmony with the previous three;
                                                                                               'even slightly' does not sound fitting well here. Perhaps change the line to 
                                                                                               'I happen not to feel all that good.'
The Christmas tree is glowing with a headache-causing hue.                 ^
The cookies have way too much cinnamon.                                          Works quite well to me.
And every time aunt Lisa laughs I feel like I will die;                              
her voice, to me, is a carcinogen.                                                          v

I chose to leave this letter so you would know where I am;    - Could work well without the 'would', with only one past tense, since the next line 
I wouldn’t ever want you to feel blue.                                       repeats it
Forgive me - I’m a coward - and I don’t deserve your love.
Please tell aunt Lisa that it’s her not you.

Maybe there is something wrong with me.
There’s a decent chance I won’t recover.                      - Is the second 'there is / there's' necessary? 'A decent' maybe? Also, this line seems a 
Just like all the other men who failed to carry on,           bit too short
I will go back home to live with mother.                       - I think without the 'home' it sounds better and more fluid.

-BW BRINE

[tectak]

I’m waiting for the holiday to amplify my mood;A good opener should really be thematic...and this may well be the case. I note, though, that far from being obviously specific we are expected to piece together the what's and why's as the poem progresses. I believe that more should be made of the "letter", even if that means squaring the circle in the last stanza. As it is, there seems to be some randomised writing as you await purpose. I may be wrong
the change is taking longer than it should.
And even though your relatives are having lots of fun,Not convinced of the need for And. The scan will shift about anyway.
I am not feeling even slightly good.A poor line with no equating thought. It is not as good as its peers. It could and should say more....and say it better. I can see your frivolity of speech but am not convinced it is a dynamic worth hanging on to.

The Christmas tree is glowing with a headache-causing hue.Like this. Observational.
The cookies have way too much cinnamon.Awkward scan means I go though hoops in my head.
And every time aunt Lisa laughs I feel like I will die;Andy again.
her voice, to me, is a carcinogen.No. Contrived and inaccurate.

I chose to leave this letter so you would know where I am;
I wouldn’t ever want you to feel blue.You are now bored with rhyming and it shows. Blue, you, moon, spoon.  Take more time and work on it.
Forgive me - I’m a coward - and I don’t deserve your love.
Please tell aunt Lisa that it’s her not you.

Maybe there is something wrong with me.
There’s a decent chance I won’t recover.
Just like all the other men who failed to carry on,
I will go back home to live with mother.This is what I meant about squaring the circle...I am only half way round and whoops...what happened?

-BW BRINE

Hello BWB,
This is an envelope poem. Everything is in there and probably sealed up...and that is a pity because you really could spend an hour or two picking away at the thing before calling it a day and posting it.
First off, you do not need (and have not spent time due to the the lack of need) on a rigid rhyme scheme....frankly, and kindly, what you have barely qualifies in that department. You should decide, though, which way you want to go. Thing is, if YOU don't know then what chance the reader?
 I love rhyming poetry and accept that these days it's mostly for the birds....BUT...if you really want to make a discipline of it you may as well give it your best shot...and that doesn't mean making "cinnamon" rhyme with the strangely re-defined "carcinogen". If you cannot get B to rhyme with A , then change A. I mean, what else is in cookies?
I don't want to sound trite or pretentious because it is quite a stylised piece of work and gets by on that alone....it really is up to you to get those rhymes tight and meaningful without them sounding contrived and senseless. Not easy in a piece like this but even as an exercise well worth it.
Best,
tectak