Thread: Yuletide Legacy

Lanza's luscious voice,
yet to hit a skip,
beckoned me to the parlor.
It was time.
Upon his throne of faded green tweed,
hand cupping a tepid Rheingold,
Daddy began to sing.
Ash from his Raleigh
snowed down on forest shag
as he glorified Christmas trees
drowning tenor with booming bass.

My chubby hands (later slender
as calendar pages turned to dust)
embraced their cue
to unwrap the fabulous four
reluctantly gifted by his sister.
Two of felt, the others dressed
in synthetic sparkles,
three emerald and one ruby,
the official family jewels.

With one eye squeezed tight
he would study, then point
and I obliged him
until each had a perfect home
nestled in fragrant pine
and glittering lights.

When the next platter descended,
Polish carols blared
with Dad quavering along.
Down the craggy mountain of his face
his annual snowmelt teemed
for the Mom he lost at eighteen.
Pretending not to see, I would retreat
as he purged grief with salt,
a fourth, lesser known
gift of the Magi.

Twenty one years ago
the elves became mine.
Mom handed them over
with jittery fingers and eyes of brick.
With no one to point, I placed on my own
transforming my tree
into a happy girl's memory.

This year my buckled hands
did not place my faded friends
(but they're so old and ugly, Maaaa)
upon boughs belonging
to a stellar generation.
They've a new home
flanking my kitchen clock
on a catty-cornered shelf
where my eyes are most drawn.
Each was given a buss
before being seated.

They will watch me toil,
and on Christmas Eve attend
a private concert
as I softly sing carols
in a language not my own
with Dad and Gram hearkening
as seasonal salt cleanses my despair
and restores my brittle backbone...

a tradition altered yet still true
that grants me the only gift
I've ever really desired.

Thank you, Daddy.



I've been dying to remember Daddy publicly again since unwrapping the elves two weeks ago, so I dusted this off because attempts at a new telling of the same story fell terribly short.


For those who are so inclined, just click for a little Lanza.

YouTube - Mario Lanza - Oh Christmas tree.

Very lovely worded, Lisa.

It is the hardest thing of all to critique a piece with personal attachments to it. some want it, some prefer not. Anything I would have to say would not change my thoughts on what I originally said, it would just be my rewording/critiquing eyes.

So I always hesitate and ask.

If this was just to read, well then thank you very much for sharing.

I enjoyed and felt the settings perfectly.

Sync

Dear Sync, I truly appreciate your kind consideration here, thank you. I am aware this is not technically sound, it's overly wordy, too long and could use a ton of tweaks. This piece is as imperfect as my faded and ugly elves which on some crazy level seems appropriate to me. It's amazing what you can spot when a piece is a year old, especially when you've learned a great deal during that year. In the particular instance, I was more concerned with storytelling than propriety, so in truth, it was just to read. This is one of the few pieces I've written that shows my softer wistful side (my stuff is usually full of daggers and darkness) and for that reason I am fond of it. I would, however, be interested in what you have to say, if it can be improved without compromising the emotion that fueled it or without hacking it to bits for the sake of brevity (the details are important in this one, no matter how trivial) I would be willing to edit. Daddy deserves the best I have to offer. Please be gentle, and please understand if I am reluctant to change anything at all, I can be a stubborn ass. I am thrilled you enjoyed and felt the settings, I suppose that's all I really wanted from this one. Thank you so much, again.

Best,
Lisa

goose down soft

first line the two 'L' in a row, is there another word that can mean the same, have the same richness without that 'el' sound?

2S 1L - the comment about the slenderness of the now hands I think should be removed because you are taking a readers eyes away from the past you are reflecting, painting still. I like the line in brackets, and believe it can be used lower when you write about the present.

that's all

I love it as it is, so my thoughts above are just my critiquing eye, which is often blind

Thank you

Sync

You know this one makes me cry Lisa! Don't change a word of it, it's raw and beautiful and clearly from the heart. I would hate to see that essence lost.

[QUOTE=ChestersDaughter;1398340]Down the craggy mountain of his face
his annual snowmelt teemed
for the Mom he lost at eighteen.
Pretending not to see, I would retreat
as he purged grief with salt,
a fourth, lesser known
gift of the Magi.

This is fantastic. Lisa, the emotion of this touched me so deeply. I lost my Dad in May just past so this is our first Christmas without him. Inevitably that sharpened my reaction to this poem but I think that is one of the joys of poetry. No matter what you are going though, a poet somewhere will have words to touch your heart and make you realise you are not alone. It's all part of the journey.

Dear Sync, "Goose down soft", thank you so much for such generous words, love. The double L was intentional, I'm so into alliteration, assonance and consonance. I, personally, am not tripping over it, but if you are, perhaps I should change it. As for the bracketed line, if it's pulling the reader out of the memory, then it should be moved as you suggested. I had hoped to convey that the ritual placing of the elves was an annual event for my entire childhood. I don't want to change buckled hands used for the present, as that is the honest truth. Do you think I should incorporate into the middle when the elves actually became mine alone? I think perhaps that would work and save the reader from being yanked out of the child's memory. Truly appreciate your input, love, your points are valid. I just happy you didn't get out the red pen. lol.


Dear Cindy, I was very honored at your response to the piece last year and even more so that it remains the same. Thank you so much for your wonderful words.


Dear Jane, I am also honored that I could touch you in such a fashion. The stanza you cited is my very favorite and most likely the most important one in the piece. I am so very sorry to learn of your Dad's passing, please accept my heartfelt condolences. The first Christmas is the hardest and my prayers will be with you and yours. I know it sounds like a crock of crap right now, but it does get easier with time. Daddy's been gone 22 years, but I swear I can still feel him by my side this time of year, it's one of the reasons I love Christmas so much. I agree with you regarding the joy of poetry, no matter what we're enduring, someone somewhere is either enduring or has endured the same. If we're lucky, we stumble onto their pieces at the most appropriate times. It makes us feel less alone. Thank you so very much for your kind words, love.

All my best, always,
Lisa

Lisa, you know that I'm not quick to tear but they were just about coming as I read this beautiful but heartbreaking honor to your Dad and the warm Christmas traditions he passed onto to you and your family. As a child, I was passed from home to home so I really experienced no solid tradition. Here, you allowed me to live vicariously through yours and I thank you.

I say a definite kepper and I love. The contrast between chubbu hands and slender speaks of the years gone by succinctly.

My chubby hands (later slender
as calendar pages turned to dust.

Maybe, it's be being daft but I think in the second stanza you might make some reference to the elves. Describing their stature, long caps. Something without actually saying "elves". But saying "elves" would certainly do the poem no harm.
It was that part I was unclear about.

Down the craggy mountain of his face
his annual snowmelt teemed
for the Mom he lost at eighteen.

Absolutely brilliant imagery and you know I'm a hound for well portrayed images. his annual snowmelt teemed what a way to describe tears! OMG!

I'd have to go over and pick at areas I see problems with. But that's like discecting an angel. This is pure love. How lucky you are to have these memories to share. How lucky I am to have a friend like you who has this "gift" for writing.

PS I just finished a little ditty about elf. Diametrically opposed to yours!

It captures the spirit of Christmas and family both quite nicely. It was intelligently worded and felt genuinely sentimental. I'm a sucker for Christmas poetry, and this one was very pleasant.

More for Christmas. And that has really got me goin'. Your emotional attachment to family celebration at Christmas clearly spiced the piece, Lisa. Great words, and sweet ryhmes that I would love to borrow.

Though I'm new to this forum, I've already grown fond of how you so eloquently relate the importance of you family history in such touching ways. Like many who responded already, I was touched to tears in the implied warmth of a loving home with those so dear to you. Thanks for sharing such a precious sentiment with us.

Dear Laurie, The quality, or rather lack of, of your childhood has always disturbed me greatly. How I wish your memories mirrored my own, but I am grateful I could give you a glimpse as to how things should have been although I do feel more than a little guilty in doing so. Tearing from you is quite a compliment, love, thank you. I am very pleased the hand comparison worked for you as well as those lines, which are my favorites. I deliberately avoided saying what the fabulous four were just to keep the reader's interest. The piece is long and I needed a hook in the hopes people would be enticed to finish. I adore "dissecting an angel", may I have your permission to use it for next year? Pure love honors me, hon, and your gift surpasses mine tenfold, but I truly appreciate such a compliment. Thank you, love. As to your elf piece, polar opposite, indeed. lol. After decades on our trees, I'm loathe to think what stories our four could tell, *shudder*.


Dear Shabooki, Thank you, kindly. I'm a sucker for Christmas poetry to the point of being obsessive, I love this time of year. I am so happy this worked for you.


Dear Uzo, When it comes to pieces, I milk the holidays dry. The fodder is infinite. I'm elated you enjoyed and honored you found something worth borrowing, that is the ultimate compliment, love.


Dear JB, I'm truly grateful for your abundantly kind reply and that I was able to touch you such. Unfortunately, once the holidays wind down, I'll resort to the darkness I revel in, my parents are my only muse for warmth and I firmly believe that is a testament to the loving people they were. Still are, sadly in absentia. Thank you so much.

Merry Christmas to all, thank you so much for sharing a few of your hectic holiday moments with me.


Warmest,
Lisa