31 Comments
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Dave Bonta's avatar

Brava! And thank you. I held this vigil for my own dad five years ago.

Rebecca Cook's avatar

I haven't gotten to the vigil yet. I would call this pre-grieving. And it's always necessary for me, or maybe a bad thing, but I always think of all the worst case scenarios, and then what is most likely to happen.

Thanks for your kind comment.

Richard Jackson's avatar

I would cut the tick tock and make the lines longer to bring out the speech rhythms — but of course that is just my opinion

Rebecca Cook's avatar

I wonder about the tick tock--I both like it and dislike it. I think it's a placeholder at this point. But do tell me more about the line breaks. I am terrible at them, and I want to do better, more deliberate. What would you do?

Marilyn Graham Werden's avatar

Let them be there if they want. This isn’t just a poem. It’s your/very personal/poem about losing/your dad. It can always change with “time.” Thanks for sharing your process. I love it.

Rebecca Cook's avatar

Thanks, Marilyn. I think you are correct--an organic evolution.

Marilyn Graham Werden's avatar

And we can feel differently about it.

Richard Jackson's avatar

‘Just a poem’? I can write something and you can relate and empathize on the subject— but a poem by the way it is written makes you feel something new, not just what you already know.

Rebecca Cook's avatar

Certainly that is true, hence this open process. I want to show readers how a poem develops over time. And it's good for me too. I have always composed and edited as I go along, so not much in the way of extant drafts. This way, I can see my drafts.

Marilyn Graham Werden's avatar

Hats off. I understand your point, but I think what I was trying to say is that this is a poem that it is still in process—and so are the feelings that are being expressed about a very deeply felt and fresh experience. I would opt for honoring the feelings first and honing the fine points more gradually. But that’s “just” my feeling.

Richard Jackson's avatar

‘Just a poem’ ?? I can write something I feel and you am an empathize and it won’t be a poem— which by its form and structure lets you feel something new.

Richard Jackson's avatar

For me a line break is a rhythm marker, a hint of a hesitation ( not like a pause) with a slight emphasis on that break word or on the first word of the next line. As if one had to hesitate or quickly glance up to find the next word — hardly measurable in time. It is the orchestration of a poem.

Rebecca Cook's avatar

That sounds lovely, but since I tend toward galloping prose (and poems really), not very easy to hear. Also, this seems counter to what I see in other poets, I would say esp. younger poets. Which poets should I explore? Bishop? Eliot?

Richard Jackson's avatar

Why would you want something not easy to hear? Who are you writing to? What effect in the poem’s patterns — not just the emotion— do you want the reader to feel?

Rebecca Cook's avatar

I meant, not east to "hear" in general, but that not everyone likes the type of prose I do, and it's hard on me to write it for various reasons.

Of course I want my poems to be easy to hear.

Richard Jackson's avatar

James wright and Ada Limon — also Adrienne Rich

Rebecca Cook's avatar

Thanks. I had remembered that Wright was a huge influence on you. I am quite familiar with Rich. Never read Limon. Perhaps I am too influenced by contemporary poets.

Alix Klingenberg's avatar

Ada Limon is great, highly recommend Bright Dead Things

Sharon Ann LaCour's avatar

Hello I’ve been absent for a while. Always a joy to read you again. My mom died 4 years ago. The memory of those last brutal days stays with me and brings me close to her again every time they come up. There’s pain there and regret too of what decisions I hate now, but the pain is a lovely connection now. And she feels closer now than ever. Still pulling me up out of the water. Blessings to you.

Rebecca Cook's avatar

That's a lovely way to look at it. Welcome back.

Rebecca Brindle's avatar

This is a hauntingly beautiful poem that reminds me of the special relationship between you and your dad and the great loss you are experiencing, little by little.

Rebecca Cook's avatar

Thanks. I know that you know.

Ian Winter's avatar

The latest version evokes so many memories of my own losses, that I feel my feet wading into the floodwaters again. It reminds me of a couple of my poems on here, “She’s Up St. Mary’s Again” and “As The Lights Dim And Die”. There’s a temptation to dilute the impact for the sake of poetic form, but I know you’ll avoid it. You’re such a natural.

Rebecca Cook's avatar

"There’s a temptation to dilute the impact for the sake of poetic form", I love this, so apt. And I do it all the time, which is why I really love to do poems with no form, just a block of text, but I know that readers do not like to read these. I don't myself. So.....thanks for this, Ian.

Marilyn Graham Werden's avatar

I think you do both well. You straddle the worlds.

David Kirkby's avatar

Good morning my friend.

Well - it's morning here, as you know.

This is also good mourning, if there can be such a thing. It is at least honest, clear, visceral and true to the pain. The pain of the now, and the knowledge of the pain to come.

It made me think of my own poem - "The Sadness" - where I wrote of "the sadness which comes

at the thought of the sadness to come."

It reminded me, also, of how much I miss my own Father, still, 30 years after he died.

This is what good writing does - finding commonality between us. Each grief is unique in detail, but the feeling of grief is one of life's gifts to us all, if we live long enough to receive it.

I know you say of this piece that "a lot will happen to it later" - but thank you for sharing it now. This could become a whole story, rather than a poem.

You make something beautiful of your Father's life, Rebecca, and of your love. What more can we do?

Best Wishes - Dave

Rebecca Cook's avatar

I don't think we can do anything. Except climb out, and keep going.

Antonio Castellaneta's avatar

The image of one hand reaching for the other stayed with me. Thank you for sharing this passage.

Rebecca Cook's avatar

Thanks for commenting, Antonio. I appreciate it.