i eat the dew of my
grandmother's grandfather's
family recipe for
pork-chop, onion,
and tomato stew.
i eat it in the morning
with my pill, while i sit and
listen to the hum of a
family of humming birds
from the window sill.
i eat the color of the early
morning with my
breakfast--some milk in
a glass, jellied toast--as
the quiet dulls her.
i eat and i am tired
from this mind that let
itself to wander 'mong
her quiet world that,
quetly, has
turned too old.
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2 comments:
i eat the dew of my
grandmother's grandfather's
family recipe for
pork-chop, onion,
and tomato stew.
Good start. It gives definition to the voice.
i eat it in the morning
with my pill, while i sit and
listen to the hum of a
family of humming birds
from the window sill.
Still not bad...
i eat the color of the early
morning with my
breakfast--some milk in
a glass, jellied toast--as
the quiet dulls her.
Eating color is an unesay abstraction. "Her" is the same, because it could as well be talking about the hummingbird, but I assume not. Use the word grandmother again (Elizabeth Bishop's poem Sestina uses it 7 times, you can use it twice).
i eat and i am tired
from this mind that let
itself to wander 'mong
her quiet world that,
quetly, has
turned too old.
And this problem that I have with most of your poems, is a conceited voice: immature. While the former stanzas of the poem use the soup to articulate something about the relationship between voice and grandmother in a unique manner, the last stanza reverts not only to the assumption that by including metacognition, "I am tired from this mind" the poem can escape the pressure to say something new, something beyond traditional expectations. Poetry is about what's new: making words new and making ideas new. The poem falters horrifically at the end for situating itself squarely on old, (no pun intended) and exhausted ideas of grandmothers. Start with the word "quiet" and infect the poem with a strangeness.
excellent critique elias. i appreciate it.
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