This is one of two last poems I submitted for my poetry class. This is my final submission for a poem that I don't really know how to finish. The red text is the professors criticism.
“This is animated by your passion. The language is strong and plain, and the portrait of the mother emerges clearly. You have definitely made great use of the direct address approach. When revising for Module 7, you should focus on cutting, more of sections than line by line. Also, be specific in indicated places (though that might add to words), and try to work at creating more dramatic story line. The “box of ashes” is overused and forced. Try it just once where it would be most effective (not necessarily in title). This is a strong piece that is sapped of its full power by some excesses”.
I remove the other uses of “box of ashes” in the poem. I agreed it was overused and forced. At the time it felt like the right thing to do. I changed the beginning of the poem to what you suggested, moving the fifth “stanza” to the beginning. I think the listing of particular foods demeans the poem somehow so I didn’t follow that suggestion. I added “one last person” as an allusion to myself and also a reminder of my mother’s death. I tried to underscore and focus the feeling of impotent rage/anger throughout the poem. I use the word “caretaker” as a word to imply I was just a thing to be fed and cared for like a pet. I cut out what you recommended to see the poem from another perspective. I tried to follow your suggestion of clarifying my relationships in my family, by sharpening the fact that it was my grandmother who raised me.
This is the most difficult poem to revise due to my emerging feelings for my mother, how to say everything I want to say but in as few words as possible as required by the art of poetry. I still do not have a feeling of closure or anywhere near a feeling of approaching one. I think only time will be able to give me the proper perspective to take with this poem.
Box of Ashes (original submission)
Perhaps if you had raised me
rather than leaving me
with your mean and spiteful mother,
who became my vacant headed
and befuddled grandmother,
who offered no comfort
but a roof over my head,
all the food I could gorge myself on
rather than teach me
what to do with my emotions,
who created a monster
by giving him a lavish lifestyle,
gilded his cage,
filled his cell with
all the treasures a boy desired
sent him into the world
with no self-control
my youth became as worthless
as a box of ashes
A mother to me,
Is just an irritating, annoying stranger
who tried to discipline me
on the random, rare occasions
you came to see me
Why are you here?
You knew more about the goings on
of all the bars in Syracuse
Than what was going on
inside your lonely son’s mind
only a few miles away
as he tried to make sense of
his life as he grew
Perhaps if I had a real mother
I wouldn’t be a convicted felon,
drug abuser,
thief,
money waster,
whore monger,
liar,
calculating predator,
accomplished actor,
so accomplished
he doesn’t even know who he is,
who’s been trying
to figure it out
by thrashing around
and flagellating in his environment
all these years
until he becomes
just another box of ashes
Out with some friends
Downtown one night
I came upon you loaded
As you sat with your friends
At a table in front of Quigley’s
and you did not know
I was standing
in front of you
mere feet away
Where were your “friends”
that you spent so much time with,
all these years
who you abandoned me for
so you could have companions
to drown yourself in alcohol
and talk about petty, mundane events
Where were they
when you asphyxiated from your asthma
by yourself in your apartment
these people just as worthless
as a box of ashes
Left behind a nine year old crippled dog,
that I used to watch you baby more
than you ever did to me,
another abandoned thing
for someone else to take care of
did you get him
to fill some emptiness inside
The same emptiness
that became my entire life?
Left me with
your belongings that you
compulsively accumulated
over the years
that I had to sell for pennies,
donate to the rescue mission,
take to your mother’s apartment
so she could live amongst this debris
so we wouldn’t get stuck with paying for
another month’s rent for yours
because I already had
the credit card debt to cremate you
and now a box of ashes to dispose of.
It is so easy for me to tell a woman
I love her with straight face
This word means nothing to me,
it is merely a tool
that has it’s proper uses
for certain occasions
When I was a boy
Someone used to speak
this foreign word to me
then turn around and leave
When you were barely out the door
your mother would tell me
what a horrible person you were
because I didn’t know you
I didn’t know
what to believe.
When your mother passes away
Some years from now
Leaving me the last
Surviving member
of the family
That box of ashes
Will finally get scattered
By seagulls and rodents
Searching for sustenance
In some landfill somewhere.
Box of Ashes (your revisions)
Perhaps if you had raised me
rather than leaving me
with your mean and spiteful mother,
who became my vacant headed
and befuddled grandmother,
who offered no comfort
but a roof over my head,
all the food I could gorge myself on specifics?
rather than teach me
what to do with my emotions,
who created a monster
by giving him a lavish lifestyle,
gilded his cage,
filled his cell with
all the treasures a boy desired specifics?
sent him into the world
with no self-control specifics?
my youth became as worthless
as a box of ashes
You knew more about the goings on
of all the bars in Syracuse
Than what was going on
inside your lonely son’s mind
Perhaps if I had a real mother
I wouldn’t be a convicted felon,
drug abuser, (different line breaks?)
thief,
money waster,
whore monger,
liar,
calculating predator,
accomplished actor,
just another box of ashes
Out with some friends Start your poem here?
Downtown one night
I came upon you loaded
As you sat with your friends
At a table in front of Quigley’s
and you did not know
I was standing
in front of you
mere feet away
Where were your “friends”
when you asphyxiated from your asthma
by yourself in your apartment
these people just as worthless
as a box of ashes
Left behind a nine year old crippled dog,
that I used to watch you baby more
than you ever did to me,
another abandoned thing
for someone else to take care of
did you get him
to fill some emptiness inside
The same emptiness
that became my entire life?
Left me with
your belongings that you specifics?
compulsively accumulated good!
over the years
that I had to sell for pennies,
donate to the rescue mission,
take to your mother’s apartment
so she could live amongst this debris
so we wouldn’t get stuck with paying for
another month’s rent for yours
because I already had
the credit card debt to cremate you
and now a box of ashes to dispose of.
It is so easy for me to tell a woman
I love her with straight face
This word means nothing to me,
it is merely a tool
that has it’s proper uses its
for certain occasions
When I was a boy
Someone used to speak
this foreign word to me
then turn around and leave
When you were barely out the door interesting connection needs to
your mother would tell me be worked out
your mother would tell me be worked out
what a horrible person you were
because I didn’t know you
I didn’t know
what to believe.
When your mother passes away
Some years from now
Leaving me the last
Surviving member
of the family
That box of ashes
Will finally get scattered
By seagulls and rodents
Searching for sustenance
In some landfill somewhere.
Box of Ashes (revised and final submission)
Out with some friends
Downtown one night
I came upon you loaded
As you sat with your friends
At a table in front of Quigley’s
and you did not know
I was standing
in front of you
mere feet away
You knew more about the goings on
of all the bars in Syracuse
Than what was going on
inside your lonely son’s
mind for all of his
lost and
wasted years
Perhaps if I had a
real
mother
I wouldn’t be
a convicted felon,
a drug abuser,
a thief,
a money waster,
a whore monger,
a liar,
calculating predator,
accomplished actor,
enmeshed in a living death
one
less person
to guide him in this life
Perhaps if you had raised me
rather than leaving me
with your mean and spiteful mother,
who became my vacant headed
and befuddled grandmother,
who offered no comfort
other than a roof over my head,
all the food I craved,
all the food
I could gorge myself on
And crush out my feelings
rather than teach me
what to do with my emotions,
who created a monster
by giving him a lavish lifestyle,
gilded his cage,
filled his cell with
all the plastic treasures
that a boy desired
and sent him
into the world
who could make no sense of his emotions
my youth became a worthless
passing of days
Where were your “friends”
From the bar
when you asphyxiated from your asthma
alone in your apartment
the ones whose company
you so obsessively pursued
these people offering now
only
their worthless
sympathy and condolences
You left behind a nine year old crippled dog,
that I used to watch you baby more
than you ever did to me,
another abandoned thing
for someone else to take care of
did you get him
to fill some emptiness inside
The same emptiness
that became my entire life?
Left me with
your belongings,
and bills
and debts,
that you
compulsively accumulated
over the years
your precious treasures
that I had to sell for pennies,
donate to charity,
deliver to your mother’s apartment
so she could live amongst your
debris
so we wouldn’t have to forsake more money
paying for
another month’s rent for yours
because I already had
the debt to cremate you
and now a box of ashes to dispose of.
It is so easy for me
to tell a woman
I love her
with straight face
This word
means nothing to me,
a mere tool
for its proper uses
in certain occasions
When I was a boy
Someone used to speak
this foreign word to me
then turn around and leave
When you were barely out the door
your mother,
your mother,
my caretaker
would tell me
what a horrible person you were
and because I didn’t know you
I didn’t know
what to believe.
When your mother passes away
Some years from now
Leaving me the last
Surviving member
of the family
That box of ashes
Will finally get scattered
By seagulls and rodents
Searching for sustenance
In some landfill somewhere.
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