Moved On (revision 2)

[Matty11]

revision2

Our happy home stays as you shaped
with years of cosy furniture;
that reading chair where I escaped
into hefty books, my quiet pretence.

Your list remains, though now I scrape
the oven clean. I earn my nap.
Nothing bothers my eye. I hear
your kindest voice. It's getting late.

------



revision

Our happy home stays as you shaped
in years of cosy furniture;
that reading chair where I escaped
into hefty books, my quiet pretence.

Your map remains, though now I scrape
the oven clean. I earn my nap.
No mote bothers my eye. I hear
the kindest voice. It's getting late she says.

...........

original

Our happy home stays as you shaped
in years of cosy furniture;
that reading chair where I escaped
into hefty books, my quiet pretence.

Your map remains, though now I scrape
the oven clean. I earn my nap.
No mote bothers my eye. I read
the kindest voices. It's getting late , they say.

[AlienFlower]

Hi Phil,

I've come back to this twice now and I'm still not there. The title, and the word "map" are puzzling. I think I need more setting. Still thinking.

Jackie

[Colm Roe]

Wow, Phil. You packed an awful lot into a short poem. The happy and easy life as a child, and while still happy as the N ages he is now responsible for the work required to maintain the house, and himself. Love the word 'map' for the loving/gentle instructions he received as a child, a legacy that he continues. And 'no mote' is an interesting way to say his parents were so good he couldn't criticise them in any way.
The closing line is quite lovely (and sad), and finishes this poem beautifully.

 

[Matty11]

Thank you Jackie and Colm. In essence, you were right Colm. An adult indulged like a child and then having to take on the chores when their partner has died. My final line was misleading, it was referencing books, but I think that thought was not communicated.

cheers

Phil

[TrevorConway]

Hi Phil,

There's something particularly nice about this poem. The tone is great, fits the theme very well. The only major overall thing that sticks out is the holding on to the shaped/escaped/scraped rhyme, which felt unnecessary to me and gave the impression of being the remnant of an early draft that had a full rhyme scheme.

I took the map as a literal map on the wall, like the furniture. If it's a literal map, give a fuller description of it. If it's a metaphor, maybe some more detail would make it clearer, though Colm seems to have gotten your meaning/metaphor.

A bit more detail might enhance the poem. To me, it feels like a 12-14-line poem. 8 is a bit too short.

Specifics below.

Thanks for sharing. Nice poem to read of a Sunday morning.

T

Our happy home stays as you shaped [Nice opener]
in years of cosy furniture; [Delete "in"; put a comma at end of previous line]
[the] reading chair where I escaped
into [my] hefty books [and] quiet pretence.

Your map remains, though now I scrape
the oven clean. I earn my nap.
No mote bothers my eye. I hear ["mote" feels suddenly old-fashioned to me; might be a regional thing]
the kindest voice. It's getting late she says.

[So, the speaker is imagining the voice at the end, I take it. The ending is a bit of a let-down for me. Not sure why. I guess it feels a bit unimaginative/lazy, unlike the rest of the poem]
 

[Matty11]

Pleased you enjoyed Trev. The rhyme was in there, but perhaps too hidden. I've edited. I'll ponder your suggestions and an extension. Appreciated.

cheers

Phil

[Colm Roe]

I assumed it was his parents when you said 'they' in the last line.
Changing it to 'she' changes everything. I still prefer to read it from the child's POV as opposed the husband's.