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Gran's Parlour (revision), crit *** |
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Oct 23 12, 15:11
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Mosaic Master
Group: Praetorian
Posts: 4,599
Joined: 4-August 03
From: Birmingham, England
Member No.: 12
Real Name: Eira Needham
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori
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Revision 2
Absent Kiss
China nik-naks mist with aspidistra; I recall Gran's spick and span parlour, opened only to select visitors.
Gran titivated the room after he'd gone; I laid out a board game with Kate. We slid down snakes and climbed ladders;
she perched on a leather pouffe while I squatted on the woven willow stool Grandpa had crafted for me.
When the alien invaded his kidneys, a fold-up bed was tucked into the corner by the window.
Hushed voices slithered under the door; Gran gathered me in to say hello.
Unshaved, his shadow lay propped on plumped pillows, gaunt and unspeaking.
I should have kissed him goodbye, before he slept with brass handles on oak.
------------------------------------------- REVISION
Gran's Parlour
China nik-naks blur with aspidistra as I recall that spick and span room opened only to select visitors.
A fold-up bed was tucked into the corner for grandpa, when the alien invaded his kidneys.
Hushed voices slithered under the door; Gran gathered me in to say hello.
Unshaved, his shadow lay propped on plump pillows, gaunt and unspeaking.
Gran titivated the room and I laid out the board game with Kate. We slid down snakes and climbed ladders;
she perched on a leather pouffe while I squatted on the woven willow stool Grandpa had crafted for me.
I should have kissed him goodbye, before he slept with brass handles on oak.
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Gran's Parlour
I barely remember the details of that spick and span room, opened only to exclusive visitors.
Grandpa's terminal bed was planted in the corner when his kidneys were invaded.
Hushed voices drifted under the door; Gran gathered me in to say hello.
Unshaved, he lay propped on plump pillows; gaunt and unspeaking. Just a shadow.
I should have kissed him goodbye, before he slept there in oak with brass handles.
I played in there with Kate whose Aunty lived next door. Snakes slithered up ladders;
she perched on a leather pouffe while I squatted on the woven willow stool Grandpa had crafted for me.
----------------------------------------------- St3 L1 was: Hushed voices crept under
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Nov 11 12, 17:05
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 847
Joined: 14-November 03
From: Ireland
Member No.: 41
Real Name: Lucie
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
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Hi Eisa,
I haven't been here in a long time but read this and really, really enjoyed this. I think the beauty of it is that so many of us have similar childhood memories...that silence and hush when someone is ill or dying.... the reverence of the room, Grandad "a shadow" and the child noticing the difference in his appearance. Grandma "gathered me in" is a beautiful line and the finish is just poignant and lovely..the child now playing with a friend in the room...the love evident in the "woven willow stool".
The only slight suggestion, and it is slight, is that maybe "gaunt" isn't a word that the child might use, since we are seeing the scene through her eyes. Then again, it well could be. It just struck me slightly. I thought "when his kidneys were invaded" was a perfect description, it sounds like something the child might have overheard and not completely understood, maybe wondered about.
Really, really beautiful..I could "see" and feel the whole scene
Lucie xx
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Lucie "What could have made her peaceful with a mind That nobleness made simple as a fire, With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind That is not natural in an age like this, Being high and solitary and most stern? Why, what could she have done, being what she is? Was there another Troy for her to burn?" WB Yeats "No Second Troy" MM Award Winner
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Nov 16 12, 08:06
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Mosaic Master
Group: Praetorian
Posts: 4,599
Joined: 4-August 03
From: Birmingham, England
Member No.: 12
Real Name: Eira Needham
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori
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QUOTE (Ephiny @ Nov 11 12, 23:05 ) Hi Eisa,
I haven't been here in a long time but read this and really, really enjoyed this. I think the beauty of it is that so many of us have similar childhood memories...that silence and hush when someone is ill or dying.... the reverence of the room, Grandad "a shadow" and the child noticing the difference in his appearance. Grandma "gathered me in" is a beautiful line and the finish is just poignant and lovely..the child now playing with a friend in the room...the love evident in the "woven willow stool".
The only slight suggestion, and it is slight, is that maybe "gaunt" isn't a word that the child might use, since we are seeing the scene through her eyes. Then again, it well could be. It just struck me slightly. I thought "when his kidneys were invaded" was a perfect description, it sounds like something the child might have overheard and not completely understood, maybe wondered about.
Really, really beautiful..I could "see" and feel the whole scene
Lucie xx Hi Lucie How lovely to see you here! I hope to see you more often. I'm so glad this worked for you - it's funny how memories can spark off a poem. I can see what you mean about 'gaunt' and will consider that when I come to do some tweaking. Please call again soon. Snow
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Dec 16 12, 19:25
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 1,547
Joined: 4-August 03
From: Jeddah, Saudi Arabia
Member No.: 13
Real Name: Daniah
Writer of: Poetry
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Dearest Eira,
It's been too long.
I love the memory you brought up here and in light of the chaos in my country, the increasing death tolls, this turned into the facts we r living now.
Syria is a grandparent, the death bed experience, knowledge that all we can do is wait, and to me gaunt was just right.
Interpretation is an interesting factor f our lives. It fuels your drive towards life.
Sorry to turn your memory into my present and the human presence of your gran to the figurative of my beloved home. Syria.
Hugs hny and kudos
Dani
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Jan 1 13, 19:25
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Mosaic Master
Group: Praetorian
Posts: 4,599
Joined: 4-August 03
From: Birmingham, England
Member No.: 12
Real Name: Eira Needham
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori
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QUOTE (Siren @ Dec 17 12, 01:25 ) Dearest Eira,
It's been too long.
I love the memory you brought up here and in light of the chaos in my country, the increasing death tolls, this turned into the facts we r living now.
Syria is a grandparent, the death bed experience, knowledge that all we can do is wait, and to me gaunt was just right.
Interpretation is an interesting factor f our lives. It fuels your drive towards life.
Sorry to turn your memory into my present and the human presence of your gran to the figurative of my beloved home. Syria.
Hugs hny and kudos
Dani Dear Dani Yes - it's been too long and I've missed you! I love it that poetry can be translated in different ways and I like your interpretation of my words. I hope you won't leave it too long before you call here at MM again. Hugs Snow
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Jan 8 13, 02:43
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 3,446
Joined: 16-October 06
From: UK
Member No.: 298
Real Name: Alan McAlpine Douglas
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori/Eisa/loads of old friends
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Dear Snow,
Yes, I too remember my grandfather dying. Not that I understood any of it at the time. Excellent poem.
Love Alan
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Jan 23 13, 00:41
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Ornate Oracle
Group: Praetorian
Posts: 8,875
Joined: 27-August 04
From: Bariloche, Argentine Patagonia
Member No.: 78
Real Name: Sylvia Evelyn Maclagan
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:David Ting
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Hi Snow!
I feel you've achieved just the right atmosphere to poetically describe your Grandpa's last days.
Fortunately, people were allowed to die in their own beds, with family around.
Your memories may not be sparkling ones, to say the least, but so much better than modern day experiences in the ICU, with feeding tubes and mechanical devices to make one last longer.
I think your insertion of "snakes slithered up ladders" portrays the slightly phantasmagorical recollections. I suppose you played Snakes and Ladders there?
You haven't asked for crits, so I'll just mention that, for me, "hushed voices crept under the door" doesn't quite fit, I mean "crept" could perhaps be changed to another verb. You've personalised the voices, but if that is your intention, that's OK!
Thanks for the great read. I only knew one of my grandparents, and she died when I was about 5 years old, far away from my home on the farm.
((hugs)) Syl***
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"There is no life higher than the grasstops Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind Pours by like destiny, bending Everything in one direction."
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Jan 26 13, 16:00
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Mosaic Master
Group: Praetorian
Posts: 4,599
Joined: 4-August 03
From: Birmingham, England
Member No.: 12
Real Name: Eira Needham
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori
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QUOTE (Alan @ Jan 8 13, 07:43 ) Dear Snow,
Yes, I too remember my grandfather dying. Not that I understood any of it at the time. Excellent poem.
Love Alan Hi Alan - yes I think when you're young you are not told everything and 'protected' to a certain extent. Glad you liked the poem. Love Snow
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Jan 26 13, 16:16
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Mosaic Master
Group: Praetorian
Posts: 4,599
Joined: 4-August 03
From: Birmingham, England
Member No.: 12
Real Name: Eira Needham
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori
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QUOTE (Psyche @ Jan 23 13, 05:41 ) Hi Snow! Hi Syl!
I feel you've achieved just the right atmosphere to poetically describe your Grandpa's last days. I'm glad to hear that! Fortunately, people were allowed to die in their own beds, with family around.
Your memories may not be sparkling ones, to say the least, but so much better than modern day experiences in the ICU, with feeding tubes and mechanical devices to make one last longer. That is so true remembering my mothers last days in hospital I think your insertion of "snakes slithered up ladders" portrays the slightly phantasmagorical recollections. I suppose you played Snakes and Ladders there? Yes - I feel this bit is open to interpretation. it could be a memory or something that happened in the future You haven't asked for crits, so I'll just mention that, for me, "hushed voices crept under the door" doesn't quite fit, I mean "crept" could perhaps be changed to another verb. You've personalised the voices, but if that is your intention, that's OK! I meant to ask for crits, Syl so I'm glad you mentioned this as I have been wondering about it. Perhaps 'drifted' would be more appropriate? - or any other suggestions? Thanks for the great read. I only knew one of my grandparents, and she died when I was about 5 years old, far away from my home on the farm.
((hugs)) Syl*** Lovley to have your comments! Hugs Snow
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Mar 7 13, 16:29
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Mosaic Master
Group: Praetorian
Posts: 4,599
Joined: 4-August 03
From: Birmingham, England
Member No.: 12
Real Name: Eira Needham
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori
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Just made a few changes - a bit more detail in parts and brought St5 down to end as I feel it makes a stronger ending. Snow
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Mar 25 13, 08:35
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 1,547
Joined: 4-August 03
From: Jeddah, Saudi Arabia
Member No.: 13
Real Name: Daniah
Writer of: Poetry
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Wow Eira,
I just love the revision. I found the change in S2 breathtaking. You showed me the bed, made me sense its ominous presence.
I agree with transferring S5 to the end. Definitely a better ending.
The love is there, the sweet sorrowful memory... The need for cleanliness in the midst of the chaos of a falling life..
You caressed my poetic senses with this one.
Wonderful! Dani
Ps: much hugs
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Mar 30 13, 19:54
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Mosaic Master
Group: Praetorian
Posts: 4,599
Joined: 4-August 03
From: Birmingham, England
Member No.: 12
Real Name: Eira Needham
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori
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Thanks Dani - so good to hear from you. Hugs Snow
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