My Mother Left Me the Sun(edit 1)

[brynmawr1]

In these waning days
of summer, I casually lay
in the shade of live oak;
through leaves the sun
glittering, a face I still see 
 
your smile-- always the sun
you chased as Icarus wanting
absolution from consideration
of who else might fall.  What
does a mother owe her children?
 
The same, I’ve learned, due 
of them when they savage
into the world with hearts 
long traded. Yours was
 
an aurora of seasons prismed
from green to yellow to orange,
then the sun’s red fire.  Death is
the mother of Beauty.  I’ve heard
 
on a breeze the song of a winter 
wren-- undulating, high and long,
but that is no more
than the echo of an earlier spring.
 
I must be content living with memory,
evening’s clouds already gathered--
lay with me and feel
their laughter galloping horizon to horizon.

In these waning days
of summer, I casually lay
in the shade of live oak;
through leaves fractured 
sun’s glitter on whose face
I draw still a mother’s smile,
 
your smile; always the sun
you chased as Icarus wanting
absolution from consideration
of who else might fall.  What
does a mother owe her children?
 
The same, I guess, as due
of them when they savage
into the world having hearts 
long traded. Yours was
 
an aurora of autumn prismed
from green to yellow to orange,
then the sun’s red fire.  Death is
the mother of Beauty.  I hear
 
with a breeze the song of the winter 
wren- undulating, high and long
but that is no more
than the echo of an earlier spring.
 
I must be content living in memory,
evening’s clouds having gathered;
their laughter galloping
horizon to horizon.

This poem was very different before TqB introduced me to Wallace Stevens and then rowens posted the class on "Auras of Autumn" which heavily influenced S4.  I also added a link to the song of the winter wren with a cool visual depiction of the call

[TranquillityBase]

In these waning days

of summer, I casually lay

in the shade of live oak;

through leaves fractured 

sun’s glitter on whose face

I draw still a mother’s smile,  my only suggestion; the rest should be left alone

 

your smile; always the sun

you chased as Icarus wanting

absolution from consideration

of who else might fall.  What              lovely and inspiring stream of words here

does a mother owe her children?      good question

 

The same, I guess, as due

of them when they savage

into the world having hearts 

long traded. Yours was                   another lovely stream of words; not Stevenson, this is your voice; I can tell, coz I'm telepathic; good answer to the question

 

an aurora of autumn prismed

from green to yellow to orange,

then the sun’s red fire.  Death is

the mother of Beauty.  I hear           no need for the spoiler for anyone who has read Stevens; if they haven't, that's their look out

 

with a breeze the song of the winter 

wren- undulating, high and long           Stevens loves the word "undulating"

but that is no more

than the echo of an earlier spring.

 

I must be content living in memory,   "am" (well, one more itty bitty suggestion)

evening’s clouds having gathered;

their laughter galloping    maybe one more suggestion, "galloping" seems too active for drifting clouds
horizon to horizon.

Bryn,

The whole thing is beautiful.  It feels like you've set yourself free to go wild and wanton with your language in a good and productive way.  No shame in channeling Stevens or any other poet, in my not so humble opinion.  It was a real pleasure to wake up to this.  I tremble to think that other critiques may lead you to alter it.  But I guess that's none of my business, verdad?

Why does this damn software insert double spacing?  not my doing!

TqB

[brynmawr1]

In these waning days

of summer, I casually lay

in the shade of live oak;

through leaves fractured 

sun’s glitter on whose face

I draw still a mother’s smile,  my only suggestion; the rest should be left alone    I went back and forth a lot on this.  Kind of liked how it might be a little unexpected and cause a pause and has a few extra shades of meaning that get pulled in.  That's what going on in my head, it's a "special" place!

 

your smile; always the sun

you chased as Icarus wanting

absolution from consideration

of who else might fall.  What              lovely and inspiring stream of words here

does a mother owe her children?      good question

 

The same, I guess, as due

of them when they savage

into the world having hearts 

long traded. Yours was                   another lovely stream of words; not Stevenson, this is your voice; I can tell, coz I'm telepathic; good answer to the question

 

an aurora of autumn prismed

from green to yellow to orange,

then the sun’s red fire.  Death is

the mother of Beauty.  I hear           no need for the spoiler for anyone who has read Stevens; if they haven't, that's their look out

 

with a breeze the song of the winter 

wren- undulating, high and long           Stevens loves the word "undulating"   I didn't know that-lucky coincidence or subliminal mind control 

but that is no more

than the echo of an earlier spring.

 

I must be content living in memory,   "am" (well, one more itty bitty suggestion)  

evening’s clouds having gathered;

their laughter galloping    maybe one more suggestion, "galloping" seems too active for drifting clouds  
horizon to horizon.

Bryn,

The whole thing is beautiful.  It feels like you've set yourself free to go wild and wanton with your language in a good and productive way.  No shame in channeling Stevens or any other poet, in my not so humble opinion.  It was a real pleasure to wake up to this.  I tremble to think that other critiques may lead you to alter it.  But I guess that's none of my business, verdad?

Why does this damn software insert double spacing?  not my doing!

TqB

Thanks TqB.  I'm not sure what the rules are for adapting from other writers.  My other influence on the course of this poem is a you tube video I watched on "writing with Andrew" about how poems, at least the memorable ones, are about more than pretty images. With which I mostly agree, although anything written well enough will carry its own water.

I tremble to think that other critiques may lead you to alter it.  But I guess that's none of my business, verdad?  We'll see.  I am always happy to hear your opinion, especially if you think an edit was a mistake.

 feels like you've set yourself free to go wild and wanton with your language  Maybe.  I still feel like I have no real control of the process.

After reading your Dutch poem I figured out how to insert links.  It's a fun way to sort of put in footnote information and make the poem multimedia.  I tried to get 'song' to just play the sound but couldn't figure that out.  Anyone know how?

Take care,
Bryn

[TranquillityBase]

After reading your Dutch poem I figured out how to insert links.  It's a fun way to sort of put in footnote information and make the poem multimedia.  I tried to get 'song' to just play the sound but couldn't figure that out.  Anyone know how?

Yes, that's the first time I've done that.  Now I want to write a poem which is nothing but links to other pages.

As to playing a sound, I don't see a way unless maybe it would involve the "insert code" option, and you knew how program said code to make a sound.  

[alonso ramoran]

brynmawr1,

Wow. This is beautiful. There's not much that I can say or even really want to say. I'll try.

In these waning days Nice opener that sets the tone. The N feels something in or around them changing, not fading.

of summer, I casually lay

in the shade of live oak; What I get from this: there's a cheerful indifference to and yet an acknowledgment of change protected by the things that have been changed or are changing. For a moment I forgot this poem was titled "My Mother Left Me the Sun" and what I extracted from this image sounds like a child humbly praising their parent, which is nice.

through leaves fractured 

sun’s glitter on whose face It hurts to point out because I am enjoying how the language sounds, I'm not sure if "glitter" is being used as a noun or a verb.

I draw still a mother’s smile,



your smile; always the sun

you chased as Icarus wanting

absolution from consideration

of who else might fall.  What

does a mother owe her children?

 

The same, I guess, as due

of them when they savage

into the world having hearts I typically have doubts when abstractions like "hearts" are used, but the way it's used here makes it still a part of an interesting puzzle to solve. This tells me that I'm in good hands.

long traded. Yours was

 

an aurora of autumn prismed

from green to yellow to orange,

then the sun’s red fire.  Death is Very psychedelic sequence that I think is permitted by a nice use of the verb "prismed". It effectively describes color and movement.

the mother of Beauty.  I hear

 

with a breeze the song of the winter 

wren- undulating, high and long not only is this a nice appeal to the sense of hearing but also sense of touch. I can feel the wind gently guiding the trill into my ear.

but that is no more

than the echo of an earlier spring.

 

I must be content living in memory, This transition into the future is done beautifully with the stanza before it being a fine segue, appealing first to sound (the birdcall).

evening’s clouds having gathered;

their laughter galloping At this point I'm guessing "their" refers to both the mother and child's laughter, which is heartbreaking. Interesting to think about how these moments travel here and there on hooves. Either way, the knee jerk image is a band of wild horses just running freely wherever.

horizon to horizon.

This poem was very different before TqB introduced me to Wallace Stevens and then rowens posted the class on "Auras of Autumn" which heavily influenced S4.  I also added a link to the song of the winter wren with a cool visual depiction of the call

Thank you for sharing.

AR

[brynmawr1]

brynmawr1,

Wow. This is beautiful. There's not much that I can say or even really want to say. I'll try.

In these waning days Nice opener that sets the tone. The N feels something in or around them changing, not fading.

of summer, I casually lay

in the shade of live oak; What I get from this: there's a cheerful indifference to and yet an acknowledgment of change protected by the things that have been changed or are changing. For a moment I forgot this poem was titled "My Mother Left Me the Sun" and what I extracted from this image sounds like a child humbly praising their parent, which is nice.        

through leaves fractured 

sun’s glitter on whose face It hurts to point out because I am enjoying how the language sounds, I'm not sure if "glitter" is being used as a noun or a verb.  I guess I'm not surprised.  I purposely made the language a little tight here but worried that the syntax would get muddled.  I might need to add a little punctuation to clarify.  But to answer your question, meant to be a noun.

I draw still a mother’s smile,



your smile; always the sun

you chased as Icarus wanting

absolution from consideration

of who else might fall.  What

does a mother owe her children?

 

The same, I guess, as due

of them when they savage

into the world having hearts I typically have doubts when abstractions like "hearts" are used, but the way it's used here makes it still a part of an interesting puzzle to solve. This tells me that I'm in good hands.

long traded. Yours was

 

an aurora of autumn prismed

from green to yellow to orange,

then the sun’s red fire.  Death is Very psychedelic sequence that I think is permitted by a nice use of the verb "prismed". It effectively describes color and movement.

the mother of Beauty.  I hear

 

with a breeze the song of the winter 

wren- undulating, high and long not only is this a nice appeal to the sense of hearing but also sense of touch. I can feel the wind gently guiding the trill into my ear.

but that is no more

than the echo of an earlier spring.

 

I must be content living in memory, This transition into the future is done beautifully with the stanza before it being a fine segue, appealing first to sound (the birdcall).

evening’s clouds having gathered;

their laughter galloping At this point I'm guessing "their" refers to both the mother and child's laughter, which is heartbreaking. Interesting to think about how these moments travel here and there on hooves. Either way, the knee jerk image is a band of wild horses just running freely wherever.

horizon to horizon.

This poem was very different before TqB introduced me to Wallace Stevens and then rowens posted the class on "Auras of Autumn" which heavily influenced S4.  I also added a link to the song of the winter wren with a cool visual depiction of the call

Thank you for sharing.

AR

hey AR,
Thanks for reading and commenting.  Reading your interpretations of different parts is really helpful.  Especially the last stanza.  not entirely what I necessarily intended but liked what you came away with and it was the overall feeling I wanted to convey.
I look forward to reading your next posting.
bryn

[Lizzie]

Hi, Bryn. I'm going to talk about this one sentence by sentence. I'm going to do this because the sentence structure is tortured in several places and it's the biggest barrier to my enjoyment of the poem. 

In these waning days of summer, I casually lay in the shade of live oak; through leaves fractured sun’s glitter on whose face I draw still a mother’s smile, your smile; always the sun you chased as Icarus wanting absolution from consideration of who else might fall. In my experience, mixing up word order just to make the reader pause and surprise them doesn't work. It saps energy from the poem and prevents the reader from being fully immersed in the poem. To call attention to specific word choices, simply place them at the end of line breaks and you can gently highlight words and encourage desired pauses. The prepositional phrase "on whose face" is particularly awkward. There are less convoluted ways of expressing yourself -- I encourage you to revisit your word choices and try to express yourself in the most cogent way possible. Your imagery is enough to carry the poem forward and provide interest, you don't need to risk confusion to make the piece catch people's attention. Your previous works that I've read had a simple beauty to them -- I recommend not fixing something that wasn't broken in the first place.  

What does a mother owe her children? -- An interesting question, but you need to have a compelling answer, and the next sentence doesn't offer a cogent reply, in my opinion. 
 
The same, I guess, as due of them when they savage into the world having hearts long traded. Again, I am not clear about what you're trying to say because the narrator is speaking in such an unnatural way. 

Yours was an aurora of autumn prismed from green to yellow to orange, then the sun’s red fire. I also don't know the rules for referencing other writers. However, in general, be careful when quoting from good authors, as you run into the danger of being outwritten in your own piece. Especially since you're not letting your own brilliance shine through, it feels here like relying on another to carry the piece along. Your writing needs to match the quality of the quotation. It's a high bar, which is why I rarely do it. 

Death is the mother of Beauty.  I take from this that the beauty of the mother was only realized after her passing. 

I hear with a breeze the song of the winter wren- undulating, high and long but that is no more than the echo of an earlier spring. "With a breeze" could conceivably refer to the narrator's hearing or with the nature of the song, so that's unclear. As to the wren, I'm assuming that you mean to have an em dash there (---), however it could be read as a compound adjective/noun that Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes were so fond of (such as in his poem "The Sluttiest Sheep in England" where he used "Their Ancient Briton draggle-tassle sheepskins, or pose, in the rain-smoke, like warriors --" I'm assuming that you didn't mean "wren-undulating," but it could be read that way. 
 
I must be content living in memory, evening’s clouds having gathered; their laughter galloping horizon to horizon. Try to examine any verbs which are not particularly dynamic such as "having" -- perhaps "I content myself with memory, as evening's clouds assemble," etc. Try to focus on movement and action. The laughter galloping is a great example. More verbs like this through the rest of the poem 

In summary, you're usually a fluid writer.  I've read your other work, and it slays all day. I think you're getting in your own way in this one. 

If you choose to revise, I'll give more thoughts along the way.

I'll be happy to reply to any questions after a good night's sleep. 

Lizzie

[brynmawr1]

Hi, Bryn. I'm going to talk about this one sentence by sentence. I'm going to do this because the sentence structure is tortured in several places and it's the biggest barrier to my enjoyment of the poem. 

In these waning days of summer, I casually lay in the shade of live oak; through leaves fractured sun’s glitter on whose face I draw still a mother’s smile, your smile; always the sun you chased as Icarus wanting absolution from consideration of who else might fall. In my experience, mixing up word order just to make the reader pause and surprise them doesn't work. It saps energy from the poem and prevents the reader from being fully immersed in the poem. To call attention to specific word choices, simply place them at the end of line breaks and you can gently highlight words and encourage desired pauses. The prepositional phrase "on whose face" is particularly awkward. There are less convoluted ways of expressing yourself -- I encourage you to revisit your word choices and try to express yourself in the most cogent way possible. Your imagery is enough to carry the poem forward and provide interest, you don't need to risk confusion to make the piece catch people's attention. Your previous works that I've read had a simple beauty to them -- I recommend not fixing something that wasn't broken in the first place.  

What does a mother owe her children? -- An interesting question, but you need to have a compelling answer, and the next sentence doesn't offer a cogent reply, in my opinion. 
 
The same, I guess, as due of them when they savage into the world having hearts long traded. Again, I am not clear about what you're trying to say because the narrator is speaking in such an unnatural way. 

Yours was an aurora of autumn prismed from green to yellow to orange, then the sun’s red fire. I also don't know the rules for referencing other writers. However, in general, be careful when quoting from good authors, as you run into the danger of being outwritten in your own piece. Especially since you're not letting your own brilliance shine through, it feels here like relying on another to carry the piece along. Your writing needs to match the quality of the quotation. It's a high bar, which is why I rarely do it. 

Death is the mother of Beauty.  I take from this that the beauty of the mother was only realized after her passing. 

I hear with a breeze the song of the winter wren- undulating, high and long but that is no more than the echo of an earlier spring. "With a breeze" could conceivably refer to the narrator's hearing or with the nature of the song, so that's unclear. As to the wren, I'm assuming that you mean to have an em dash there (---), however it could be read as a compound adjective/noun that Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes were so fond of (such as in his poem "The Sluttiest Sheep in England" where he used "Their Ancient Briton draggle-tassle sheepskins, or pose, in the rain-smoke, like warriors --" I'm assuming that you didn't mean "wren-undulating," but it could be read that way. 
 
I must be content living in memory, evening’s clouds having gathered; their laughter galloping horizon to horizon. Try to examine any verbs which are not particularly dynamic such as "having" -- perhaps "I content myself with memory, as evening's clouds assemble," etc. Try to focus on movement and action. The laughter galloping is a great example. More verbs like this through the rest of the poem 

In summary, you're usually a fluid writer.  I've read your other work, and it slays all day. I think you're getting in your own way in this one. 

If you choose to revise, I'll give more thoughts along the way.

I'll be happy to reply to any questions after a good night's sleep. 

Lizzie

Hi Lizzie,
Thanks for taking the time to read through this and give such detailed commentary.  I agree with your assessment of the first stanza.  Trying to be too clever by half.  Others have suggested likewise.  I have redone it to address the awkwardness and the transition into S2 but never got around to revising so thanks for prompting me to get on with it.

I will have to think on S3.  The tone changes a bit in that first line which was not completely unintentional, but I guess isn't working.  I will think on the rest of the wording, as well.

Regarding my references to Wallace Stevens, I don't know the rules either though I do see your point.  Many seem to think there are no real rules, but in this instance, I did use it as an interesting phrase so likely guilty as charged.  I also borrowed the "Death is the mother of beauty" from same but here I used it to convey a specific idea behind what makes things beautiful that I thought was relevant to the themes of the poem.  It was italicized to convey the fact that it was a quote rather than mine.

You are correct in S5 where I have shown my ignorance of things poetic with my confusing use of the em dash.  Easy to fix.  I will look at the wording of 'with a breeze'.  I admit trying to make that more interesting but, you are right, if it distracts then it detracts.  Did I just coin a phrase?

Finally, yes strong motion verbs are better.  Something I tried hard to do in my "Sea" poem but seem to have forgotten in this one.  Thanks for pointing it out.

Thanks again for your efforts.  I have been in a bit of a slump lately and this might help me out of it.
Take care,
Bryn

[Lizzie]

I also borrowed the "Death is the mother of beauty" from same but here I used it to convey a specific idea behind what makes things beautiful that I thought was relevant to the themes of the poem.  It was italicized to convey the fact that it was a quote rather than mine. -- And I understood that it was a reference to something else because of the italics; however, you could just use quotation marks even if you don't specify in or around the poem who it's from. People can copy and paste into Google and learn something. 

With the quote being such a broad, metaphorical statement, people will take that as meaning any number of things, especially in a novel context such as your poem. There's no way to control how such big ideas are interpreted, and people will lose interest in the piece if you try. 

I will look at the wording of 'with a breeze'.  I admit trying to make that more interesting -- This confirms my suspicion. I was wondering if maybe you thought that your imagery was not enough to carry the poem along and that's how/why things got convoluted. If your imagery is solid then it can stand alone. Besides, lyricism is all you really need, in the end. 

but, you are right, if it distracts then it detracts.  Did I just coin a phrase?  Sure. I wouldn't know any better, so just go ahead and take credit. 

I have been in a bit of a slump lately and this might help me out of it. -- Fingers crossed. All the best to you. 

[brynmawr1]

I also borrowed the "Death is the mother of beauty" from same but here I used it to convey a specific idea behind what makes things beautiful that I thought was relevant to the themes of the poem.  It was italicized to convey the fact that it was a quote rather than mine. -- And I understood that it was a reference to something else because of the italics; however, you could just use quotation marks even if you don't specify in or around the poem who it's from. People can copy and paste into Google and learn something. 

With the quote being such a broad, metaphorical statement, people will take that as meaning any number of things, especially in a novel context such as your poem. There's no way to control how such big ideas are interpreted, and people will lose interest in the piece if you try. 

I will look at the wording of 'with a breeze'.  I admit trying to make that more interesting -- This confirms my suspicion. I was wondering if maybe you thought that your imagery was not enough to carry the poem along and that's how/why things got convoluted. If your imagery is solid then it can stand alone. Besides, lyricism is all you really need, in the end. 

but, you are right, if it distracts then it detracts.  Did I just coin a phrase?  Sure. I wouldn't know any better, so just go ahead and take credit. 

I have been in a bit of a slump lately and this might help me out of it. -- Fingers crossed. All the best to you. 

hey again,
Thanks for the dialogue.

-- And I understood that it was a reference to something else because of the italics; however, you could just use quotation marks even if you don't specify in or around the poem who it's from. People can copy and paste into Google and learn something. Subconsciously, the quotation marks seem out of place in this situation as it's not really speech, per se.

With the quote being such a broad, metaphorical statement, people will take that as meaning any number of things, especially in a novel context such as your poem. There's no way to control how such big ideas are interpreted, and people will lose interest in the piece if you try. yes, I agree but that is true of any metaphor or other imagery meant to convey some other meaning.  I've come to think that it's not 'healthy' to write for the lazy reader.  In this situation, it is such an iconic phrase that if someone did take the effort to google it, they would learn its intended meaning and, I hope, spend some time thinking about how it fits into the context of this poem.  Now, whether that is legit is open for discussion!

This confirms my suspicion. I was wondering if maybe you thought that your imagery was not enough to carry the poem along and that's how/why things got convoluted. If your imagery is solid then it can stand alone. Besides, lyricism is all you really need, in the end. Not so much that, at least on a conscious level, just trying too hard to add---something, I suppose.  Here it was done with the 'I hope it works' finger's crossed approach.  Thanks for calling it out.

Thanks again for the dialogue.  Any push back on my part is not about me proving my point or defending my stance.  I don't see winners or losers in these situations; only further understanding.
Take care,
bryn