The leaves have all come down

I'm having quite a bit of trouble with this little bugger. I feel like there's something missing, and that the second stanza is a little messy. Please help me clean it up.


--


The old man next door, a Holocaust survivor—
how many winters has he seen? He has
not moved the furniture
in the house since his wife died,
but every year the maple in his backyard
drops yellow leaves like slips of paper
from its crooked limbs.

What is there to do
but count the hours until
we slip complacently into November,
as we always have? I wish to grip your
lonely hand, grasp your cold fingers
between my own, but each day I do not.
Things are as they should be; leaves
blow across the pavement outside my window.
Death is a butterfly, winging its way
past the dripping roof and the bodies of squirrels
who will never sleep through another winter.
This is our antebellum, our calm before the storm.
What is there to do but count the hours?

I love how it holds the boredom and emptiness of fall.... even though it is a beautiful season. It's good, but it's parts seem poorly put together.

You start with the old man, which I really liked, but then as I got farther into it I was thinking: what does the old man have to do with the rest of the poem? [Autumn] Then this part:

He has
not moved the furniture
in the house since his wife died,
but every year the maple in his backyard
drops yellow leaves like slips of paper
from its crooked limbs.

I love the mention of not moving the furniture, an unwillingness to give up. But then it goes into the maple in the backyard, which isn't bad, but by the time you end the sentence, you haven't linked the two. What emotion, meaning, symbol do they share? I assumed they would hold each other tightly--with their meaning--and connect and make me ooo and aw, so I was disappointed and felt like the mention was worthless.

I wish to grip your
lonely hand, grasp your cold fingers
between my own, but each day I do not.

With this I am left thinking who? I immediatly assume the old man, because I want to believe there is a connection and that the old man, who I love, is the subject of the poem. But he isn't. That also disappointed me...But still, who is this?

Death is a butterfly, winging its way
past the dripping roof and the bodies of squirrels
who will never sleep through another winter.

This was kind of bizarre. Death as a butterfly bothers me, but it worked, though I would have liked you to play it out more, describe it more so I can make a better connection. Then "dripping roofs" caught me, but then I thought rain [at least, it rains where I live] and I liked it. "bodies of squirrels" bothered me, and it took the second read to realize they would die [if I understood correctly] and I didn't like that part. The wording and the whole idea rubbed me the wrong way...

I think this was a good first draft of a poem. I'm not sure which direction you will want to go from here... I love the old man, and I wish you would follow the theme with him, and his life, and dead wife, and holocaust memories.... but I have a feeling you want to follow the first person [second stanza] of this poem. And perhaps it is two poems accidentally thinking it is one? I'm sure which ever way you will go, I will enjoy it, but I have to say if you write with the old man, I already know I will enjoy it. ^_~

I hope this helped! Keep it up, Colly, you have awesome words. Even if you do hate me... *anti-hug*

It seems... very prosaic. And naming the old man as a Holocaust survivor, right away, seemed to almost ground it too much, in my opinion. Then, there wasn't really much following it. I think you could actually just cut the first stanza completely.

The second stanza I think has the feeling of messiness because it dabbles between the concrete and the abstract: leaves blowing outside your window versus Death being a butterfly. A few other misc. things I noticed that may or may not be of concern to you: (a) redundancy in "this is our antebellum..." line (b) rhetorical question as the last line.

Each ~sentence seems disconnected to what's around it; maybe if you picked one theme from this stanza and tried to develop it more throughout? They're nice individually, but together don't seem to quite fit.

Melja noted the rhetorical question. Rhetorical questions aren't bad--I like it. Although, it might be safe to edit the words a bit, so that the second time, it is a repetition, but not an entire repetition, you know? ^_~

(Sheesh, Suzanne, why do you even bother? Your worthless words should not even be in the mere presence of my work. I hope your computer dies and you can't get on YWS for a MONTH and then you go insane from YWS WITHDRAWAL. RAWR.)

Haha, no. Thanks for the comment--I definitely see what you're saying. I think in the first stanza, I was trying to say that even though his wife died and he can't move on, the world still does around him, the maple tree still loses its leaves every fall. I had expected that to kind of fall flat on its face.

I also see what you're saying about "two poems trying to be one." Perhaps it is. The whole thing sort of popped into my head a while ago in a mad fit of inspiration while I was looking for something to eat, and it hasn't left me alone ever since. I think it might take over my brain if I don't find a way to make it coherent.

I think the poem would be better off if I followed the first stanza, but you're right, I want to pursue the second stanza more. The line "What is there to do but count the hours...?" was the first part of this that popped into my head (at the time, I was on my tip-toes trying to see if there were any Nutty Bars left in the cupboard over the pantry--there weren't, incidentally).

Thanks again!
-Colleen

Well the two paragraphs seemed to contrast too much. The first has solid imagery and concreteness while the second seemed abstract and dreamy. The first seemed to be in third person while the second was in first. That really confused me.

The line "Things are as they should be" should be cut. I don't think it helps add anything.

And I am having a problem finding exactly what you're trying to say. I'm guessing the narrator is comparing her life with the old man's and coming to some sad realizations. Perhaps the old man could be more engaged throughout the poem? Or maybe the narrator could make more references to him. It just seems that you completely neglect this wonderful image that you have created in the first stanza in the whole of the second stanza.