[brigits_flame] Fly on the Walls of Yore

[1stmate]

Fly on the Walls of Yore

I have often wondered, these long years
later, what happened between the two of you.
I was too young to understand how
delicate the threads of family
can sometimes be. Here one day,
gone the next: a man I could have called Father
in another life.

I imagine being in the room, still
too young to get out of the crib,
on that fateful December evening.
I hear you, Father, DaDa. I hear
your voice, louder than my newborn ears
can really manage. I hear MaMa crying.
I think you may have hit her. I can't decide
if she left with me then or if you left that night,
protecting us from you in the only way
you knew.

No: it's morning, early morning. Early enough that you
still would call it night, though Mother rises
in two short hours. You don't pass the living room,
trying not to wake me, but she hears you and comes
from the bedroom. You collapse face-first on the couch.
Mother rouses you, tries to lead you to bed,
but you blink up at her blearily. "Diane?"
She knows only one Diane, your secretary
and whore.

But: I'm stretched on my stomach, inhabiting
Blanky in the dining room. Mom is folding
our clean towels. Your head is on the table
in the crease of an elbow, spare hand toying with my pacifier.
I don't see who speaks first, but the air
is a jumble of broken promises and regret. Granny and Pop
will take us in; you will move out and head west
as soon as we are no longer your burden.
Mom sighs in the afternoon sun and tells you
tomorrow.

Or: the morning is cold, and we have been up all night
waiting in vain for your shift to end, for you to
come home.

I often wonder, these long years later,
where I would be right now if none of those had happened.
I can't see how I might be different, but I know
I would not be here, in this coffee shop, waiting
for you to stitch those threads back together again.

Comments

[innana88.livejournal.com]

This is a beautiful, sad take on the prompt. Lovely work this week.

This sentence is wonderful:

I was too young to understand how
delicate the threads of family
can sometimes be.

That you return to this in the last line, wow.

I'm one of your editors this week (my pleasure!). I'll be back later to give it a more thorough going over, but I just wanted to pop in while reading and give you some much deserved compliments!

Something I'm noticing about your poetry is that you have a very strong and fairly consistent poetic voice. That's pretty rare. Keep up the wonderful writing.

[1stmate]

Yikes, it's Monday! Reading and voting and editing and writing! Totally snuck up on me this week. But what a fantastic comment for the sneaking-up.

Thank you for the compliments! I will look forward to your edit, of course - I feel like I won the edits lottery this week!

It's very interesting that you say that about my poetic voice. I used to write fiction under a different name, and every time I shared poetry, most people were like "well, that was okay, but your prose is a thousand times better." I opened this journal specifically as a challenge to myself to write poetry every week for a while and see what happened. I think it's pretty much a success so far! (well. aside from that "every week" part.) So thank you for being awesome and forthcoming and honest and whatnot.

[innana88.livejournal.com]

Okay, I'm back. Sorry about the slight lateness in finishing up.

There is so much about the tone, the imagery, and the movement in this piece that is so wonderful, that I'm actually glad that I 'put it down' for a few days and came back to it. I realize now that for all its lovely sadness, there are a few elements that are unclear for me. It's a credit to you that I was so taken with it my first time through that I missed the fact that I'm fuzzy on a few things! :)

In the second stanza, you wrote:

I imagine being in the room, still
too young to get out of the crib,
on that fateful December evening.

I read through the rest of the poem and I can't tell if the speaker is recollecting being in the room at that time or simply imagining it.

The 'No' that begins the third stanza seems to indicate that the speaker is correcting his own memory. But then I'm confused again because you repeat this same one word followed by a colon structural beginning for the next two stanzas. This seems like it could indicate that each of these is yet another correction, but the choice of 'but' seems odd to indicate this.

I love the details you've included. I love the tone, the rhythms, the structure, the imagery, the relationships between these people. I just am struggling to understand how you intend them to go together, what their presence means to the poem.

If they are different possible memories, then what changes in the choosing of one over another? Or is the point simply that memory is an unreliable witness? And if that is the point, what is the speaker left with as a result? What are the pieces that he has that cannot be stitched together?



This is an absolutely gorgeous work-in-progress that absolutely deserves a rewrite. There is so much love and beauty in this. It just needs a bit of clarification so that you know you are guiding the reader along the path you intend for him/her/zie to follow.

Always a pleasure. :)

[1stmate]

I have had such a hard time replying to this comment! LJ keeps screwing me up! Irritating. But yes, thank you for the edit, I have put much thought into what you have said, and especially thanks for the questions. Questions are good! :)

[bluegerl.livejournal.com]

What a sad piece, but how true Real Life it is. So much is never understood, it is all a jumble and lost in the tumble of 'what might have been' or 'was it really like that?' So sad, so many broken lives and families.

I wish threads could be stitched.... but bless and thank you for the honesty in this. Old Blue.

[1stmate]

I seem to be making a habit of sad-but-true-to-life poems here lately - sorry! I should try to be cheerful for week two! :) Thanks for the comment, Blue!

[writingmoments.livejournal.com]

::hugs:: I think all couples have regrets, whether they stay together or not. If this is real life, I'm sad this happened. You have become a wonderful writer though!

This line especially grabbed me:

but the air
is a jumble of broken promises and regret.

I wish I could write poetry like this! Great job!

[1stmate]

Oh, that's for sure! And while I'm sure it's someone's real life, it's not quite mine. :) Thank you for the compliment, and for telling me about that line! It's always helpful and nice to hear what specifically someone likes.

dodos rolling out the edit wagon,he pauses

[bardiphouka.livejournal.com]

hmm. Okay,I am going to get really picky here, so the standard disclaimer at the beginning that these are just suggestions.

Here one day,
gone the next: a man I could have called Father
in another life.

Except the protagonist (?) can still call him Father. How about something like hmm..could have grown to call Father?


hear you, Father, DaDa. I hear
your voice, louder than my newborn ears

I think I would scratch the Father, DaDa, because it is the only time in the poem he is addressed by a title. And I would have used infant instead of newborn..simply because newborns are generally not kept in cribs. ( did warn you I was going to be picky)

You don't pass the living room,
trying not to wake me, but she hears you and comes
from the bedroom. You collapse face-first on the couch.

This bit confuses me. He does not pass the living room but he collapses on the couch? Perhaps if you just cut the first line and combined the next two?

. Your head is on the table
in the crease of an elbow, spare hand toying with my pacifier.

I just thought I would mention that to me this is one of the most powerful lines in the poem. It shows, and this could be just me, that regardless of what is going on, the father does love the child.

One may say, why is Bardi being so picky? Well, the poem is that powerful for one. Or I just get grouchy when in pain, who knows. I am actually going to go for the former.

[1stmate]

Excellently helpful points, Bardi! Thank you for being picky, and all your thoughts are duly noted. I hope you feel better soon!

He does not pass the living room but he collapses on the couch?
In my neck of the woods, that would mean that he came into the living room - probably the door is in that room or close by - but he didn't come any further into the house than that. I didn't realize this wasn't common usage! Is there some other way you can think of to phrase that to make the meaning clear?