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This Poem was Submitted By: Kenneth R. Patton On Date: 2004-11-25 09:37:12 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Lost Magic

“But it’s not the same!” she said and she was right Nothing was the same I remembered my first one When Thanksgiving lost its magic Later on I saw the look That very same look I once had The time when I noticed my father really was old It was in his eyes, his face It’s a tough thing to see I think I will hug her today

This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2004-11-29 12:29:29
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.96552
Ken, there is a certain disquiet about this piece. I want to put it on the back burner and forget that I know what it is about. I wish I still believed in Santa Clause, the tooth fairy, and those Christmas’s when magic abounded. No structural or venacular malapropisms, just a touching piece. “But it’s not the same!” she said and she was right Nothing was the same – so here we are, not knowing the she, I decided to be the she. I have been too much of a dreamer I think, it was years into my adulthood before the magic left, and I can’t really pinpoint it, but I think it was about the same time that I resigned myself, to whatever. I remembered my first one When Thanksgiving lost its magic – I though hard on this stanza, and I don’t know when that was. Maybe it was yesterday, but I think, depending on life, it was a slow, phasing effect. “Later on I saw the look That very same look I once had The time when I noticed my father really was old It was in his eyes, his face” I think I saw my father the other day, or was that me?.. Must have been me, my father left here alone some years back. I DO remember the first time I looked at him and he was, “old”. It’s a tough thing to see I think I will hug her today – The most important stanza of the verse, and I think, I will find “Thanksgiving” again, maybe not resign myself, maybe hugging and laughing will do that. I know my children probably will find that there is where the magic is. Thanks for great insight.

This Poem was Critiqued By: James Edward Schanne On Date: 2004-11-29 11:32:24
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.50000
My father seemed to get very old over night in 1981( he died feb. 1982 ) it is very sobering to realize and think upon your own aging but also appreciate things a bit more too. Thats what your poem reminds me. Thanks for letting me read and comment .

This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2004-11-25 18:04:24
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.88235
Kenneth, Nice poem. Nothing is ever the same but still can be magical. That's if you want it to be. You have to work at it and it will be. The hug was the first step... hug her tommorrow too thanks, dellena

This Poem was Critiqued By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2004-11-25 17:00:45
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Ken: I like this poem for today in particular because holidays elicit a wealth of feelings both good and sad, tired, troubled, and you use "magic", as in lost. Although it is not essential to the poem to know, I couldn't determine if "she" were mother or wife. It works for either one to be the "she", IMO, but I'm leaning towards the wife. One comments that Thanksgiving is not the same and poet/narrator agrees. Nothing is the same. The magic is lost. He then recalls the first time he noted the magic was absent. He sees the same look in his father's eyes. One of disappointment, one of regrets, pain, mournful? Or all the above? He notes, too, that with this final look from his father, that he has aged without anyone noticing. (That happens in my family because so many live far away and time makes a difference when you see someone infrequently) After seeing all the "lost feeling" expressions, it moves poet to think about giving her a big hug. I realize what I've done with your poem is to deliver an exegesis, which you do not need but gosh, you all need a little more cheer, drama, and jokes in your times together. Now I've really stuck my nose in what's not my business. But Ken, my family are usually morose at holiday times. There are so few of us left that the happy/good times have seemingly gone. That's the take I put on your poem, one of disappointments. But I may be projecting how my family is. Roni wrote a salute to Peggy Lee and the title of one of her most famous songs, "Is That All There Is?" That's part of my feeling about every holiday and would be a good title for yours or maybe "Send in the Clowns"? I wrote a novel here because you hit a nerve with me but I'm very happy about the hug!! Best wishes and kudos for giving us an accomplished piece of writing. Mell Morris

This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2004-11-25 11:23:59
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Kenneth--This is bittersweet realism scribed piognantly in a simple conversational style which belies its genius, but not its genuiness. A terse piece that I apologize up front for any misstating of your intent: inference of opening strophe instantly brought tears; "But it's not the same" she said and she was right Nothing was the same I remember my first one When Thanksgiving lost its magic" In my opinion, "But it's not the same..." of the first stanza speaks to your mother without her 'spouse' being present.The fourth stanza actually clarified (for this reader) the 2nd and 3rd: "Later on I saw the look That very same look I once had" The time when I noticed my father really was old it was in his eyes, his face" Annual events also serve as timetables. Each occurrence adds a wrinkle, pound, ache, ball spot and or gray hair. A great number of these occurrences (as morbid as it is) spell dismay for older folks. The last stanza opened the flood gates: "It's a tough thing to see I think I will hug her today" You may or may not have hugged your father upon seeing 'the look,' but your 5th strophe says you'll not be remiss with MOM. A family gathering for any occasion other than happy ones are expected to be somber. And, conversely, the happy events can be sad/sober if loved ones have past on. The events families traditionally celebrate together can easily be mixed blessings. Thanks for this poignant conversational and melancholy reminder on this day of the significance of family and life. TLW

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