Edit 1: Eventide

[alexorande]

Eventide  

In an artless time, my sister and I  
chased dripping-wet seagulls  
off the edge of that world. Waves 
crooned through our grandparents' lips,  

making their calls to us seem as light  
as the currents of spray, blown from sea 
slushing on rock, that stirred Muhly grass  
and tossed finer hair.  

We ran until we met the aging day's  
drowsy tug—and we complied later on, 
when we hopped in the shower, ripened up,  
and dried off. We sprung on the bed, powdered  

in damp and tight pajamas, before watching  
a cartoon of a cat that always chases a mouse.  
Abuela, in her silken gown and bifocals, reads 
Abraham Lincoln's biography. Tonight,   

the moon's face resembles her soft disapproval 
of our late television consuming—to which  
we mind with the shore, snoring with Abuelo. 
Then off goes the lamp.  

A temporary stay at temporal ban.  

I confounded this thought with dreams  
and all a boy could experience, into  
warped meditation; and though its value  
is obscured, I am sure—out of love 
—that that evening exists, for when  
decrepitude comes.  
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Original: Eventide  

In an artless time, my sister and I  
chased brine-dripping seagulls off  
the edge of that world while waves  
crooned through our grandparents' lips,  

making their calls to us seem like sand 
on the wind that stirred Muhly grass 
and tossed finer hair, and the fragrance  
from sea slushing on rock.  

We ran until we met the aging day's  
drowsy tug—to whom we complied  
when we hopped in the shower,  
ripened up, and dried off.   

We sprung on the bed before watching  
cartoons of a cat always chasing a mouse.  
Abuela, in her silken gown, reads 
Abraham Lincoln's biography.  

Tonight, the moon's face  
resembles her soft disapproval of our late  
television consuming—to which we mind  
with the shore, snoring with Grandpa. 
Then off goes the lamp.  

A temporary stay at temporal ban.
  
I confounded this thought with dreams  
and all a boy could experience, into  
warped meditation; and though the value 
of this is blotted out, I am sure that 
that evening was born 
out of love, for when  
decrepitude comes.

[Tim J Brennan]

"crooned" a great word in junction w/grandparents.  Love it.

"sand 'on' the wind" is an odd saying to me.

S3 "...to whom..." again an odd way to say this.  Antecedent is "aging day" and to refer to it as "whom" is odd to me w/o setting up a kind of personification. Somehow?  Maybe just me.

"sprung" on the bed?  There it is again, the odd saying, I mean. 

I like the return to the grandfather later in the poem, but b/c you introduced Grandma by name, I was hoping for Grandpa's name, but alas he was snoring  

Fun read. Reminded me of watching the Honeymooners or I Love Lucy w/my mom and dad when I was a kid.  


 

[Tracy Mitchell]

Hi Alex, 

This is an appealing retrospective.  The poem tracks well and is pleasant read, both silently and aloud.

A few nit-picky points - 

S.1 L.1 - “In an artless time” – I am not sure what that means. If “an” is deleted, it could refer to a natural awkwardness of the kids.

S.2 L.1 – “their calls to us” > their summons” – just a thought.

S.2 L.2 – finer > fine

S.3 L.2 – to whom we complied  > to which we acceded

S.6 – I have no idea what this means or to what it might relate.

S.7 L.1 – confounded > conflated / combined / 

S.7 L.3 – the value > precision

Lest you get the wrong impression of my impressions, here are some of the narrative gems I enjoyed:

. . . that world while waves
crooned through our grandparents' lips,      

the aging day’s drowsy tug

Abuela, in her silken gown, reads 
Abraham Lincoln's biography

. . .the moon's face    
resembles her soft disapproval . . .


. . . with dreams     
and all a boy could experience. . . .


Also, wonderful placement and use of “decrepitude”.

Thanks for posting.

Cheers.

T

[indar]

Hello,

As is typical of one who is approaching decrepitude, I  greatly appreciate poems of reminiscence. I very much like this one. I see others have remarked on your unusual word choices. Some of them are effective such as sprung on the bed. Yes, as a reformed bed jumper of the sort you mean here that is the way it felt (young legs). Also love "sea slushing"


I agree with Tracy that "decrepitude" is a great choice of words. I tend to write using the plainest words I can think of---perhaps to the point of sounding overly simple--so take my next comments in that light:

in lines like 

We ran until we met the aging day's  
drowsy tug—to whom we complied  

I think a more effective way to write it would be:

"which we obeyed"

Speaking of obeying, there are some rules of creative writing re Latinate vs. Anglo Saxon words that I try to keep in mind.  Only when the choice is even  as far as being clear. So "decrepitude" is probably Latinate but works better that anything else I can think of. But at times in your poem I think the simpler word might be more appropriate. 

On the whole I love the poem   PS---Crazy Cat? and Ignatious the Mouse?

http://blog.writersdomain.net/word-choi ... glo-Saxon/

 

[Dave]

There are some interesting word choices as pointed out and then some flow stoppers than by contrast flop on the page. In stanzas 1 and 2 I am trouble with a couple of things:
I would drop brine-dripping as a piece of poetic over-write; indeed too artless.
 Secondly, their in their calls from S2 line 1 refers to whom exactly: if the grandparents, then the crooning waves have become sand in the wind, which makes little sense to me and if gulls then the lines needed to be re-ordered as the syntactical sequence is awkward. Then again maybe it is me. The sand tossing the finer air does not work for me either.
The personification of tug through whom is interesting but questionable.

I am guessing her in her soft disapproval is Abuela?  'To which we mind with the shore' means what?
A temporary  stay at temporal ban - I can only guess what that should mean. It seems important as the N confounds it with dreams in the next line. The last 4 lines, aside from deceptitude, read awkwardly and abstract - a disappointing vagueness IMO.
Sorry I can't like it more as there is a lot of thought in this but it is saying relatively little to me.
Dave




 

[Matty11]

I would have have preferred the symmetry of those four line stanzas maintained. Liked S1 very much.

In an artless time, my sister and I  
chased brine-dripping seagulls off  
the edge of that world while waves  
crooned through our grandparents' lips,  

 The rest of the poem needs to maintain that richness of detail and invention.

We sprung on the bed before watching  
cartoons of a cat always chasing a mouse.  
Abuela, in her silken gown, reads 
Abraham Lincoln's biography.

Like the contrasts, though watching/reads are not so inventive as crooned.

best

matty
 

[alexorande]

Thank you guys for all your detailed critiques. Did some revising.

PS-Indar,
I was thinking more Tom and Jerry

[indar]

chased brine-dripping seagulls off  

so sorry to see this line is gone in your edit

[alexorande]

chased brine-dripping seagulls off  

so sorry to see this line is gone in your edit

Yeah I decided it was a little too over written. I think it still kinda pulls off the same effect though