Member Rara Avis
one of the things I love the most about the written word is how "easily" it can express and invoke multiple emotions at a given time, or alternately. even so, to take both tacks here is a stroke (either of luck or genius, you decide *grin*) knowing where this comes from, my automatic emotion when seeing your mom is a softly
sad feeling of concern and desire to comfort. it seems to me (and I'd have to look back to be sure) that you almost always start poems involving your mom in the past, when things were "good" and then, like a lightning strike, jump forward to the current reality. whether that's on purpose or not, I don't know, but it's an excellent tool for emphasizing the stark pain of the now… there can be no sweet without sour, sour without sweet. the contrast is vivid and always jumps at the throat.
next, I smile a bit, a grim one, I admit, but fitting to a darker humour in the question of whether you would even be here were she to have known - oh, and the tangents that sends the mind off on in regard to questioning the validity and fact of our existence.
then your dad - nowhere near the focal point of most of your writings… to see him here was a surprise. even though the reader doesn't know what the deal with the "plate" is, they can see the word "trivial" written across your tone very easily, I think. the emotion here was both sadness and a mite of anger at the words "lashed a cord around the books I loved" which can be read literally or metaphorically, in the sense, perhaps, of disallowing emotions, activities, you name it - it's one of those things that the reader will fill in the blank for themselves on. I also appreciated the small concession to him "trying," especially since, once again, it emphasized the contrast, this time in regard to the plate.
"What a shame, Dad." indeed. lose the comma though, but indeed.
"Never mind." (make it one word, would look better, and no, don't nevermind )
Next, you have a different kind of melancholy - you have the recognition of someone who tells the whole world the pain she's in, but in such a way as to keep away the possibility of resolution… one she's perhaps afraid to tackle. yet - there is that desire, that hope that "someone" will break through the maze and help to heal. I think here though, that the other person is the same one who made that maze of words…
omlettes and location - blech. I appreciate where you were trying to go with this, but I just got a picture in my mind of eggs spanning across miles (kilometres) and it was humourous - something ill-fitting this. either ditch the eggs for another metaphor (eggs in one basket indeed) or get rid f it altogether and leave "nothing changes but location" by itself, I think it'd work better.
"like quilts" - again, appreciate the direction, but is too… much, too soft, to obvious. don't need it.
a fitting song following the above, who's it by? I don't recognize it off the top of my head. still, if apropos, it is. the next made me sigh… the picture formed in my head of someone crowded in, and yet still alone. almost like losing all the friends (bridges burned) and finding yourself in a room full of strangers (city) - can be a lonely thing, and there is no connection to call upon (ceased to answer). excellent stanza, I liked this one the best of all.
the next - will ask you more about it next time we talk, but this one made me think of certain things that I don't know if you intended. still, I appreciate the inclusion of common symbolism through the characters… so where's Christopher Robbins? You HAVE to have a Christopher!
then, take the cliché and reword it, remake it into an image that says the same, yet presents it in an entirely different manner. I like that a lot! can a heart truly close? I don't think so… trust can though, and it's understandable… but the desire? one could argue about that. besides, flowers will always bloom sometimes (until dead) and as Eric sang - "It can't rain all the time…"
history. yeah. yeah.
you remember when you were young a lot - and I think you can find a better way to say that… it's too… mundane here and breaks a perfectly good stride. that wouldn't be so bad earlier on in the poem, but as a closing, it chokes and renders itself an unwelcome visitor. perhaps something like "younger I /eyes as guiless, and hurt…" just a suggestion. still, even with that skip at the beginning of the stanza, this closed perfectly (ha) with a strong, vivid image that sticks in the mind and heart. the imagery of pain into palms is powerful, and gives images that suggest more than acceptance, perhaps - aggression? ah well, hoped for better days… one could end an amazing poem that way… oh, you did.
hugs l'il k - proud and awed, for the emotions, but also for the presentation. the best in some time.