First Sunday Visit For Ages

[David Smedley]

Mother's face has forty fags a day written all-over it,
she slumps in her armchair and breathes out noise
as if she's swallowed a crisp packet.
Father slips the nebuliser mask onto her face.

He can't remember his name.

He switches the floor-lamp on, "Remember this" he says
folding his hands one into the other
before throwing the shadow of a rabbit onto the wall,
its eye an almond of light gripped between finger and thumb.



Been playing around with this for awhile.

[Firebird]

I love the crisp packet (perfect description in my opinion) and the final image, but not sure I understand the single line in the middle of the poem. Probably me being stupid, but it really did trip me up. Think I'll come back to it later.

All my best,

Firebird

[Macavity]

Mother's face has forty fags a day written all-over it.
She slumps in her armchair and breathes out noise
as if she's swallowed a crisp packet.
Father slips the nebuliser mask onto her face.

He switches the floor-lamp on, "Remember this" he says
folding his hands one into the other
before throwing the shadow of a rabbit onto the wall,
its eye an almond of light gripped between finger and thumb.

Good one David. I feel there is more impact by focussing on the mother's condition and the father's reaction. I'd delete the centre line, his condition, and thus lose the less than subtle thread to 'remember this' . No doubt others will disagree and there is a thought that he has forgotten his name because her condition has taken ownership of him.

all the best

mac

[David Smedley]

not sure I understand the single line in the middle of the poem. Probably me being stupid, but it really did trip me up. Think I'll come back to it later.

Firebird, thanks for the above, helpful it was.

Mac, I see your point and agree, thanks.

[David]

I like this, David. But this -

its eye an almond of light gripped between finger and thumb

stands out as an absolute highlight for me. Vivid.

Cheers

David

[ray miller]

Lovely. I think the middle line is necessary, or at least useful in throwing further light on Father's character/condition.

[JJWilliamson]

A thought provoking poem, David.

The title implies the narrator only visits on a Sunday, otherwise it would be First Visit For Ages.
This alone is quite revealing. The 'Mother' is in a bad way and one would expect
a stream of attention from concerned relatives and friends. They might live hundreds of miles
away, of course, and the speaker could well be the last remaining contact available, so my
observation may be invalid. The 'Father' is still in command of his faculties I think.

Some thoughts:

Mother's face has forty fags a day written all-over it ...do you need 'fags' ?
she slumps in her armchair and breathes out noise ...Do you need 'out noise' ? 'Noise' seems rather obvious.
as if she's swallowed a crisp packet. ...striking image
Father slips the nebuliser mask onto her face. ...'Face' again

He can't remember his name. ...Hints at the later stages of Alzheimer's disease. Perhaps he's just knackered.

He switches the floor-lamp on, "Remember this" he says
folding his hands one into the other
before throwing the shadow of a rabbit onto the wall,
its eye an almond of light gripped between finger and thumb. ...Love S2
[/quote]

Best

JJ

[Jackie]

David, it's that nebuliser mask, for me. My experience using it on an elderly patient is a) you try to distract them in order to keep them from pulling it off, and b) trying to engage them in looking at something is usually not effective because they are too obsessed with the mask.

So, much as I do admire what has already been pointed out in the poem, I keep searching for how Mother is taking it.

I do like the element of Father's not remembering his name because that's the source of the irony, but I don't really like being told it so directly and out of context.

A hard-to-forget kind of poem.

Jackie

[cynwulf]

A moving scene well put over. I feel the middle line is needed-less isn't always more, to me it brings out the pathos of where they are.
regards, c.

[David Smedley]

David.
Ray.
Thank you both for taking the time to read and give your replies, appreciated.

JJ.

Mother's face has forty fags a day written all-over it ...do you need 'fags' ?
she slumps in her armchair and breathes out noise ...Do you need 'out noise' ? 'Noise' seems rather obvious.
as if she's swallowed a crisp packet. ...striking image
Father slips the nebuliser mask onto her face. ...'Face' again

I feel "fags" could go, I had it there so that some people may not have to ask "40" what? It's a toss up that one.
"out noise" could deffo go.
The "again" after "face" could be seen to be at odds with the "visit" being the first "one for ages" ie, it shows a familiarity that N may not have witnessed. (hope that makes sense.)
Thank your for your thoughts, I always let these things rest a while in the subconcious (something will come of it eventually.)

Jackie, point taken, thank you for throwing your thoughts into the mix.

Cyn, same (as the above) to you too.

[KevJ]

Love the images you conjure here. Think I agree with Mac about that centre line. It's not adding anything to the poem I think.
But overall enjoyed by me.

All the best Kev

[David Smedley]

Thanks Kev, will ponder on the whole of these views, and no doubt something will come from them in due course...D

[brokenbridge]

Hi. Nice work. For me the strength of the poem is in the second stanza. Especially the last two lines. There is a great description in the first stanza regarding the breathing/crisp packet. Not entirely convinced with the first line, while I like the description of the forty fag a day face, I am not keen on the "written all over it" part, I am sure there is a better way of saying that. Also not sure about the single middle line- it doesn't seem to go anywhere, which is does not have too, and in a way, maybe it does work as a single line. Maybe nothing else needs to be said- I am not sure!!!

Just my two penny's worth.

Best Regards

Vincent


Mother's face has forty fags a day written all-over it,
she slumps in her armchair and breathes out noise
as if she's swallowed a crisp packet.
Father slips the nebuliser mask onto her face.

He can't remember his name.

He switches the floor-lamp on, "Remember this" he says
folding his hands one into the other
before throwing the shadow of a rabbit onto the wall,
its eye an almond of light gripped between finger and thumb.

[David Smedley]

Vincent, thanks for throwing your view in, I appreciate it. Still pondering where to go with this, I know I have something (in part of this) from the replies, so I will not let it go to waste.

David.