Two Haitians at the Deathbed

[peter6]

Revised Version

Two Haitian aides,
black clouds of rumbling thunder,
blow into the quiet room,
scattering the papers on his nightstand.

They hurl lightning bolts of laughter,
as they swirl about his bed,
a tumult of sound and confusion,
waking him from the dreams
that come before death,
rolling his body this way and that,
indifferent to his fear;
they shroud him in billowing white sheets.

The storm breaks to soft rain,
and the wild clouds glide swiftly
to the next room,
where a woman has stopped breathing,
and they must make way
for another of the dying.


Original Version

Two Haitian aides,
black clouds of rumbling thunder,
sweep into the room,
blowing the papers on his nightstand
to the floor.
The television roars to life.

They hurl lightning bolts of laughter,
waking him from the dreams
that come before death;
handling him
with a disturbing indifference.

The oppressive afternoon humidity
is broken by fitful rain,
and the room returns to silence;
the wild clouds gliding swiftly
to the next room
where a woman has stopped breathing,
and they must make way
for another of the dying.

[heslopian]

This is a wonderfully evocative piece. The comparison of the aides' arrival to a storm is excellent; the image of them blowing papers about reinforces it with stunning grace. A great metaphor. The only quibble I can make is with the line "a disturbing indifference." Is the adjective needed?
Thanks for the read peter6

[peter6]

Heslopian,
Not sure about the adjective... "disturbing"... maybe it inserts me (my feelings) into the poem; and truthfully, the reader doesn't need me.
Thanks for the feedback. I'll sit with your suggestion for a bit.
pete

[billy]

Two Haitian aides,
black clouds of rumbling thunder,
sweep into the room,
blowing the papers on his nightstand
to the floor.
The television roars to life.

They hurl lightning bolts of laughter,
waking him from the dreams is the needed?
that come before death;
handling him
with a disturbing indifference.

The oppressive afternoon humidity (is afternoon needed?)
is broken by fitful rain,
and the room returns to silence;
the wild clouds gliding swiftly
to the next room
where a woman has stopped breathing,
and they must make way
for another of the dying. this is almost a perfect verse for me

it took me a while to follow the poem but after i few reads i got what it was saying.
the way it was said was excellent. the television roaring to life is a little cliché but not enough to spoil the poems originality.

the indifference is palpable in the 2nd verse.
apart from the two nits this for me is a publishable piece of poetry.
that i had to read it a few times to get the content from it makes it all the more in my opinion. it
was like a book that you know is good but have to re read it to realize why. jmo

thanks for the read.

[addy]

This has a nice magic-realist quality to it peter. I love that a lot

Two Haitian aides,
black clouds of rumbling thunder,
sweep into the room,
blowing the papers on his nightstand
to the floor. this line feels a tad weak, like it didn't need to be separated or highlighted
The television roars to life.

They hurl lightning bolts of laughter,
waking him from the dreams
that come before death;
handling him
with a disturbing indifference. IMarvelous imagery so far, like they are spectres/ gods

The oppressive afternoon humidity this jarred me a little, only because with all the lightning storm imagery I hadn't expected it to be a sunny afternoon scene (just relating my reading, it's not a problem)
is broken by fitful rain,
and the room returns to silence;
the wild clouds gliding swiftly
to the next room
where a woman has stopped breathing,
and they must make way
for another of the dying. I like the temperance in these lines; they become more like forces of nature rather than capricious gods

I know this must matter little, but are the patients Haitian as well? If they are then the title might be off.

[peter6]

Billy and Addy,
There's a lot to digest in your comments. Your feedback is extremely helpful. I find critiquing poetry very difficult; but in the future I hope to be able to help others the way you have helped me.
The patient was not Haitian.
pete

[billy]

hi peter, just give feedback the best way yo can. we're grateful to anyone who does,
almost as much as we are to those who post their poetry. just say what you like and why, and what you think could be changed in your honest opinion. (that.s the way most people critique poetry.) we're always open to other poets points of view. and most important of all, we won't be insulted if you show us something you think needs changing.removing/adding etc.

looking forward to some more of your work.

[Todd]

Hi Peter,

A few comments for you:

Two Haitian aides,
black clouds of rumbling thunder,--is black needed? While I realize it gives you some nice sonics with blowing, clouds with thunder are usually dark so it may be unnecessary
sweep into the room,--this feels simply transitional. It doesn't add much as a line. I'd like to see a stronger choice here. You could probably even cut it and move directly to the next line.
blowing the papers on his nightstand
to the floor.
The television roars to life.

They hurl lightning bolts of laughter,
waking him from the dreams
that come before death;--the dreams that come before death is one of the more interesting phrases in the poem. It works well though you could develop and build on this a little more if you wanted. But it's cool either way
handling him
with a disturbing indifference.--I'd rather see you show me this type of handling with some imagery or figurative language rather than just telling me

The oppressive afternoon humidity--oppressive seems too telly here
is broken by fitful rain,
and the room returns to silence;--again a good line
the wild clouds gliding swiftly--maybe glide instead of gliding
to the next room
where a woman has stopped breathing,--this is another cool idea. I like it
and they must make way
for another of the dying.--maybe cut another of

So, I think you have some really good ideas here. I hope the comments are helpful to you. If they aren't please disregard.

Best,

Todd

[peter6]

Todd,
Excellent. Thanks for putting the time and effort and effort into this critique. A number of your suggestions resonate with me. I'm letting this and the other comments settle on my bones for a bit.
gratitude,
pete

[peter6]

Two Haitian aides,
black clouds of rumbling thunder,
sweep into the quiet room,
blowing the papers on his nightstand to the floor.

They hurl lightning bolts of laughter,
as they swirl about his bed,
a tumult of sound and confusion,
waking him from the dreams
that come before death,
rolling his body this way and that,
indifferent to his fear;
they bury him in long white sheets.

The storm breaks to soft rain,
the room returns to silence,
and the wild clouds glide swiftly
to the next room,
where a woman has stopped breathing,
and they must make way
for another of the dying.

I've struggled with improving this poem which I experienced from the corner of my father's hospice room the day he died. The scene of the Haitian aides washing and changing my father's bedding was a beautiful moment. I felt their robustness, the comfort of their daily routine; juxtaposed with a man nearing death. Not sure I got it.

[Todd]

Hi Peter,

Personal poems are always the hardest to write sometimes. It's hard to find the objective distance. That said, I like some of your changes quite a bit. My favorite changes are "rolling his body this way and that", "as they swirl about his bed", and "the storm breaks to soft rain" (beautiful phrasing with that).

The only suggestions I have for you are as follows:

L4: seems a little wordy iwth the two prepositional phrases maybe shorten it to:

blowing the nightstand's papers to the floor.

L12: bury seems a little too strong given that he's still feeling fear in L11. Maybe shroud instead?

Also, one structural choice: You may want to consider going to four line strophes. It isn't just that it will pull more together visually (which it would). I think the strongest reason to consider it is the extra weight it will give one of your most important lines (see below for example):

They hurl lightning bolts of laughter,
as they swirl about his bed,
a tumult of sound and confusion,
waking him from the dreams

that come before death,
rolling his body this way and that,
indifferent to his fear;
they bury him in long white sheets.

That break would really make "that come before death" pop even more. Just a thought.

It's a definite step forward though in any event.

Best,

Todd