Thread: Death Taxes

Mother, I have received what was yours; there wasn’t much.
A mood disorder, a skin ailment. Facial scars and a bone.
The death taxes were reasonable; I was able to pay in full.
They took it out in fortitude. Now I know my place.

Each night I count the pills I need: two and a half, then four.
I am so full of pills, I think I have become like them.
Quiet and pastel, they have taught me self-effacement.
Shaped like little coffins, they have taught me how to rest.
At last, I am a pond whose surface does not agitate.
But what strange fish lurk beneath my dull waters.

I once believed that words could heal by telling what is true:
The proper words, bent to one’s will, arranged upon the page.
So I bent words until they broke into their basic parts,
And found that words are only symbols, not the truth I sought.

So, Mother, I’m still asking what it was I should have said.
Though honeyed lies could have eased your final slipping days.
Your terminus was locked in place, and truth was all I had,
For I had grown too weary of the paths that lies unwind.
And that, I think, is why you were so easy to give up.
You taught me love is telling lies. You taught me to give up.

The first thing I noticed about this poem were the long lines. Personally, I feel they're unnecessary and that you actually have too many words. I'd definitely make some cuts if I were you. Things like "At last" in S2 and "So" in S4. And maybe that whole "fish beneath dull waters" part. And it may be a personal taste thing. Can I ask what the reason for the long lines was? I just feel that this poem would be more effective if it was broken. I'll tell you why:

You taught me to give up.

This final line here sort of sums this up. And yet all these lines are so full and complete. That doesn't seem right to me. Give up. Don't complete the line. Hope that makes sense. I just feel like the readers would really get this idea if it were integrated into the structure.

On that note, though, the ending actually bothered me. Just a little cliche. And you had the idea of giving up twice in two lines. I don't think that repetition was really effective. Just made the ending feel a bit excessive.

I also felt a little disconnect in this piece. The stanzas didn't seems to transition into each other within their ideas. I'm so bad at explaining things!

However, I really did like your first stanza. Had it been broken up, I would've loved it even more. This piece has lots of potential. Oh, and I love the title.

Originally Posted by Angel101

Can I ask what the reason for the long lines was?

Uh, heh heh, I'm afraid there isn't one! That's just how it came out, you know?

This final line here sort of sums this up. And yet all these lines are so full and complete. That doesn't seem right to me. Give up. Don't complete the line. Hope that makes sense. I just feel like the readers would really get this idea if it were integrated into the structure.

Sorry, but I'm not sure what you mean. If you get a sec, could you show me how you think it would work? I mean, are we just talking more line breaks, or what?

On that note, though, the ending actually bothered me. Just a little cliche. And you had the idea of giving up twice in two lines. I don't think that repetition was really effective. Just made the ending feel a bit excessive.

Hrm. Cliche is definitely NOT what I was going for. Interestingly, I actually have a completely different ending in a notebook somewhere, but I went with this one because "first thought, best thought." Even though I know that's not always the case.

I also felt a little disconnect in this piece. The stanzas didn't seems to transition into each other within their ideas. I'm so bad at explaining things!

No, no, this I actually did understand! And, while that disappoints me, that's the kind of thing I need to know, because I suspected that might be the case.

I've got to tell you, never, EVER has a poem given me as much trouble as this one has. I feel like I'm at war with it, trying to pummel it into submission and get it to say what I want, but it always eludes me. I've wanted to give up on it so many times, but, like you said, it has potential.

Maybe I'll post the alternate ending, see if that works better. I'll have to find it, though...

Anyway, thank you SO MUCH for your comments. They were really, really helpful.

What a dark desolate poem.The last stanza--I thought-summed up and completed the poem very well.I feel weird saying I enjoyed such a heartbreaking poem--but I did..Well done.--Peace--Jul

Wow, thanks, Jul. Glad you liked it.

I love poems about endings. This is a very powerful piece, and you did many great things in it. Nice work. Thoughts:

Originally Posted by Bachelorette

Mother, I have received what was yours; there wasn’t much. I'm on board with the long lines, but that's just personal taste. I would think enjambing here after mother might have a nice effect since this is a poem of address.
A mood disorder, a skin ailment. Facial scars and a bone.
The death taxes were reasonable; I was able to pay in full. Bone/full... haha, it's like a slant slant rhyme. I like it.
They took it out in fortitude. Now I know my place. I think a semi colon instead of period after "fortitude".

Each night I count the pills I need: two and a half, then four. This is a very nice line.
I am so full of pills, I think I have become like them. Unnecessary and telling. Maybe just "I have become them:"
Quiet and pastel, they have taught me self-effacement.
Shaped like little coffins, they have taught me how to rest. That is such a terrifying image.
At last, I am a pond whose surface does not agitate.
But what strange fish lurk beneath my dull waters. Back to back simile and metaphor. Some might not be able to pull it off, but I think they work well. They are both strong. But, "dull water"? Not sure how that works.

I once believed that words could heal by telling what is true:
The proper words, bent to one’s will, arranged upon the page.
So I bent words until they broke into their basic parts,
And found that words are only symbols, not the truth I sought. So much deconstruction here my head hurts. Derrida would be proud. Nice stanza.

So, Mother, I’m still asking what it was I should have said. Good job returning the reader's mind back to the recipient.
Though honeyed lies could have eased your final slipping days.
Your terminus was locked in place, and truth was all I had,
For I had grown too weary of the paths that lies unwind.
And that, I think, is why you were so easy to give up.
You taught me love is telling lies. You taught me to give up. This stanza is very sad. I think it is an excellent ending place. Even though it is all exposition, it is powerful. I say keep it as is.

first, this very well written, a pleasure to read. i liked the tone. i liked the long lines, i think the voice of this poem really comes out in the long rhythms. i especially liked the imagery, very focused.

At last, I am a pond whose surface does not agitate.
But what strange fish lurk beneath my dull waters. - really like that!

Though honeyed lies could have eased your final slipping days. - i'm really not liking the word "honeyed", maybe it's just me, but feels kind of odd, plus, honey makes me think of sticky, which doesn't play well with "slipping", again, that's just me.

the last stanza feels a little weak to me, there isn't much in the way of poetic device, especially in the shadow of your first two stanzas, which i thought were perfectly packed. exposition doesn't bother me so much, but perhaps you could shorten it up (personaly, i thought "you taught me love is telling lies" would be a better line to end on)

hope this helps. again, very well written.

wood

I have to say that I liked this very much. There is a baffled sadness, bordering on despair, that feels true and human. The style fits the content and this may be one that you continue to change as you work from the inside out.

cheers
J.R.

This one sounds to be a very cathartic work. Very honest, too. There are some wonderful lines here though this stanza was my favorite, along with the last one.

Each night I count the pills I need: two and a half, then four.
I am so full of pills, I think I have become like them.
Quiet and pastel, they have taught me self-effacement.
Shaped like little coffins, they have taught me how to rest.
At last, I am a pond whose surface does not agitate.
But what strange fish lurk beneath my dull waters.

Thanks to everyone for your comments; I really appreciate your time.

Squalid Glass: Heh, I'm glad you liked the "deconstruction" stanza. It was the hardest part of the poem to write (not emotionally, of course, but in terms of saying what I wanted to say). I'm pretty proud of how it turned out, so thank you.

Wood: You're not the only one who's uncertain about the ending - I feel the same way. I like it, and I don't like it - I don't know! I agree that it's not very "poetic" compared to the earlier stanzas. Still looking for the alternate ending I wrote, though I'm not sure if I remember it being much better. Anyway, thanks for the remarks.

J.R.: Yeah, this is an older poem, and I no longer feel that way about my mom as I did when I wrote it fix or six years ago. So I'm battling with trying to capture that old feeling, even though I've grown past it. But you and Wood apparently saw in it just what I was trying to convey, so it helps me to know that I was successful in that regard. Thank you both.

Gumby: Interestingly, that's the only stanza that came out right the first time I wrote it, and the only one I didn't "battle" with. I posted this on another writing forum once upon a time, and it was that stanza that people seemed to like best. Anyway, thanks for the comment!

We've already chatted a bit, so you basically know my feelings already, but repetition isn't always taboo, so here goes. This got under my skin and only the really good stuff gets there. Kudos. You know I broke it up for my own satisfaction as I had thought the lines were on the long side, but quite frankly, it works either way, short or long. Tough decision, but line length goes beneath the personal preference heading, so I say go with what makes you most comfortable. There are a few words that could be removed, but they don't make or break the deal. I had thought the transitioning was a tad weak, but upon subsequent reads, it seems to gel, I can't say whether I was initially overcritical or if I just finally got you. Either way, it doesn't seem to be posing a problem anymore. Please keep the pond bit, I love it, in fact, it's my favorite bit. SG mentioned your usage of dull, which I really liked. Water sparkles and reflects unless it's contaminated by something, in that respect I think dull works really well. Wood mentioned honeyed, which I also really like, it's so thick and gooey that any lies dipped in it must be some doozies to require such a thick coating, am I making any sense? I love the final stanza, I say leave it be. Must echo SG, powerful work here, very powerful, and I must echo Cindy regarding the honesty, I admire your bravery in telling it like it is. Wonderful work, hon.

Best,
Me

Many thanks, Lisa. Words are failing me, and I don't know what else to say, just: many thanks.

On that note, I thought I might as well post the broken-up version, see if that reads better. I wasn't sure about it at first, because I felt that the more traditional line breaks make it more... well, traditional. Ha. But it's growing on me...

EDIT: Oh yeah, and I also tried to trim it here and there, but I may not have done enough. You know how it can be; we just get so attached to our words, yeah?
_______________________________

Death Taxes

Mother,
I have received
what was yours;
there wasn’t much.
A mood disorder,
a skin ailment.
Facial scars and a bone.
The death taxes
were reasonable;
I was able to pay in full.
They took it out in fortitude;
now I know my place.

Each night I count out
the pills I need:
two and a half, then four.
I am so full of pills,
I’ve become like them.
Quiet and pastel,
they taught me
self-effacement.
Shaped like little coffins,
they taught me how to rest.
Now I am a pond
whose surface does not agitate.
But what strange fish
lurk beneath my dull waters.


I once believed that words
could heal by telling
what is true:
the proper words,
bent to one’s will,
arranged upon the page.
So I bent words
until they broke
into their basic parts,
and found that words
are only symbols,
not the truth I sought.

So Mother,
I’m still asking
what it was
I should have said,
when honeyed lies
could have eased
your final slipping days.
Your terminus was
locked in place,
and truth was all I had.
For I was far too weary
of the paths that lies unwind.
And that, I think, is why
you were so easy to give up.
You taught me love
is telling lies.
You taught me to give up.

Short lines serve you well! This is a great improvement. Let's see if we can't cut it even more! Yay, economization.

Originally Posted by Bachelorette

Death Taxes

Mother,
I have received
what was yours;
there wasn’t much. I think this should be on the line above.
A mood disorder,
a skin ailment. Comma here instead of period.
Facial scars and a bone.
The death taxes
were reasonable;
I was able to pay in full.
They took it out in fortitude;
now I know my place.

Each night I count out
the pills I need: I think "each night/ I count the pills I need" might flow better?
two and a half, then four.
I am so full of pills,
I’ve become like them.
Quiet and pastel,
they taught me
self-effacement.
Shaped like little coffins,
they taught me how to rest.
Now I am a pond
whose surface does not agitate.
But what strange fish
lurk beneath my dull waters. This feels more like a question right now. Take out "but", and I think it becomes an exclamation.


I once believed that words
could heal by telling
what is true:
the proper words,
bent to one’s will,
arranged upon the page.
So I bent words
until they broke
into their basic parts, Comma is not necessary here.
and found that words
are only symbols,
not the truth I sought.

So Mother,
I’m still asking
what it was
I should have said,
when honeyed lies I like "honeyed". It's interesting.
could have eased
your final slipping days.
Your terminus was
locked in place,
and truth was all I had.
For I was far too weary
of the paths that lies unwind.
And that, I think, is why
you were so easy to give up.
You taught me love
is telling lies.
You taught me to give up.