This Poem was Submitted By: Jennifer Wilmot-Lavigne On Date: 2005-02-10 08:18:08 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
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Dreamer's Legacy 7:00 a.m. and sitting at the kitchen table
Awaiting the time to leave and start the day.
Notebook and coffee infront of me,
Cigarette and pen in each hand;
An ironic mirror of the past.
A mourning ritual that has been past down
From father to daughter, Pisces to Pisces.
Epics of thought open up,
Pouring out from a carafe of ink to cup of paper,
To drink in through smoking contemplation.
A silent man, as I am woman,
Sponges of life, we soak it all in,
Burdened from the weight
Only to be lightened, as day breaks
Through poinient verse.
Miles away, an empty kitchen table,
Awaiting the time to leave and start his day,
Notebook and coffee in front of him,
Cigerette and pen in each hand;
An ironic mirror of his present.
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Copyright © February 2005 Jennifer Wilmot-Lavigne
Additional Notes:
This is the first poem I've been able to write since my dad's passing. I thought he would have liked it if I shared this with everyone here...he loved starting his day with you all :)
I mispelled morning, at first on accident...but it seemed to fit.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2005-03-05 13:12:48
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.95000
Jennifer, this piece means much to me. I am not young, and not particularly well, and of whatever it is I leave my children, my verse and my songwriting, are the “dreams” of my soul. Your tribute is one, I hope my children can recognize, not only all the laughter, or tears, the good and the bad, but, when they remember ME, I hope they recall the dreamer.
Thank you much for this vision.
Notebook and coffee infront (in front) of me,
Cigarette and pen in each hand;
An ironic mirror of the past.
A mourning ritual that has been past down
From father to daughter, Pisces to Pisces. – I have day in and day out for many years, shared just such a scene with my children, particularly my eldest, Rebekah, who also has become a poet and songwriter. In a “like twist” for me and Rebekah it is “Taurus to Taurus”. I have put aside cigarettes, but they were such an entwined part of my “writer” persona, I had to learn all over to write, without that push.
Cigerette (cigarette) and pen in each hand;
An ironic mirror of his present. – Throughout this poem there is a resilience, a thread of the dream, a commonality of dreaming and being. That is, for those who care to look, the reason Don Quixote jousted windmills. The dream must, because it is who we are, and you captured it well. Once again, thank you for sharing a piece of you, your father, and me, with me!!
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-03-04 22:32:58
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Dear Jennifer:
First, my condolences for your father's loss. As a daughter, I know how hard it still
is for me without my own father and it has been five years. It does me help to know
how much things which my father did are still appreciated by others. Your father was
a kind, gifted man, who lived by his own spiritual lights, and extended himself for
others. I will not forget having met him here. Thank you for this poem which gives
a portrait of him from your point of view, making his memory even more vivid. It is
the next best thing to still having him with us, to read your deeply touching poem.
7:00 a.m. and sitting at the kitchen table
Awaiting the time to leave and start the day.
Notebook and coffee infront of me,
Cigarette and pen in each hand;
An ironic mirror of the past.
A mourning ritual that has been past down
From father to daughter, Pisces to Pisces.
The quiet time of morning before the demands of work distract from thoughts of
your father. You set the scene with tenderness and irony as well -- the costly
smoke. I think it is synchronicity that you 'misspelled' morning at first, and
I'm glad you shared that. I didn't know Gary was a Pisces. Then it also must be
also near his birthday and yours. Those are difficult days to get through in
the first few years -- maybe always -- when a loved one has gone on. I am
picturing the symbol for Pisces -- two fish swimming in opposite directions
and thinking of the seeming contradictions implied there. The sensitive
nature, yet the hidden strength and perseverance. The uncanny ability to
"soak it all in" as "sponges of life." There's a wonderful near-anagram
for the word "Pisces" in "Epics" -- I think the sort of thing that Gary
would also appreciate.
Epics of thought open up,
Pouring out from a carafe of ink to cup of paper, --the watery element beautifully captured
To drink in through smoking contemplation.
A silent man, as I am woman,
Sponges of life, we soak it all in,
Burdened from the weight
Only to be lightened, as day breaks
Through (poignant) verse.
I especially love the line "from a carafe of ink to cup of paper" as metaphor for the
lyrical poetry which your father shared here, and for this evocative poem in his
memory. Beneath and behind the words, I sense the tears of missing his irreplaceable
physical being, but also his soulful presence. I'm sure it is hard to remember that
he isn't far away and always sends his continuing love to you.
Miles away, an empty kitchen table,
Awaiting the time to leave and start his day,
Notebook and coffee in front of him,
Cigarette and pen in each hand;
An ironic mirror of his present.
You show us the image of the "empty table" yet the continuing ritual of preparing
for the day, the "ironic mirror of his present." I believe I understand these
lines to show that though he is still 'present' ironically he can no longer
"start his day" in the ways he was accustomed to doing in his lifetime. The
image is really a lot like the fish swimming in different directions, with
each of you being one of them. You in the present -- still swimming, in the
current of time, and him in the past, yet still very present. I am stumbling
a bit over what I want to say here -- I think you will understand.
May the writing and sharing of this poem bring a measure of peace to you.
I hope you'll continue writing and that you'll send more poems our way.
You and your father will be in my thoughts for a very long time.
With love,
Joanne
This Poem was Critiqued By: Rebecca B. Whited On Date: 2005-03-02 14:03:50
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Jennifer,
And what a wonderful legacy it is! You, my dear, have followed in your father's footsteps well! We shall all miss him. I like the use of 'mourning' instead of 'morning'...let it stand. I especially like "Epics of thought open up, Pouring out from a carafe of ink to cup of paper,"..how refreshing this line seems to me...I like the use of the words carafe and cup, a wonderful way to allude to the ink of your pen and your parchment. Keep up the writing Jennifer, as you have a wonderful talent, and I know that your father would be proud! Thanks for the moving read.
Beck
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-02-26 18:57:11
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.54545
Jennifer,
I think this is a very nice tribute to your dad! I do wish nobody smoked/[I lost my smoking dad to lung cancer]
but anyway....I know how comforting coffee and ciggarettes can be at a kitchen table.
Pices/to Pices nice mirror effect. The way this is written, I think mirror could be in the title.
Your sitting at the morning [mourning/good!] table. And him at the table. Good mirror reflection.....
You show your missing him.....very well.
I'm sorry for your loss.
Writing does help as you say.
Best wishes
Dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne Duval Morgan On Date: 2005-02-12 19:26:12
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Jennifer, I love the sentiment, and the allagory to your Dad, a carbon copy. He would be pleased. The pen on paper draw a fitting tribute to your Dad, a man of every day circumstance. The ritual of moring the coofee, the cigrette (cI can see the plume of smoke emitted from each of your cigarettes). my ritual was a copycate of my Dad's, as a kid I'd get up very early and each moring he made me oatmeal, and even allowed a cup of coffee, consisting mostly of milk. His values became mine, and still are to this day. My Dad was my Daddy and we never bored, nor tired of each others rethoric. So this is a fitting, well penned, and projected poem. (May I give my concolences on his passing, but you know what he's up there smiling at you right now. God Bless him)
So I find the poem sentimental, emotional and brimming with personality, and sad, but it makes me smile for my Dad passed in '95', but each day it's as if he is still with me. Beautiful sentiments, with a strong persona....Best regards, Jo Morgan
This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2005-02-12 12:34:27
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Jennifer--Welcome! I can’t recall reviewing any of your work, but real sorry
that it has to be at the same time while learning of your father’s passing. At
any rate, I must commend you for posting (IMO) almost an elegy or at least
a tribute to your dad. Only you are someone who has lost a loved one would
know the difficulty of writing about experiences shared with someone who
has passed on;
“A mourning ritual that has been (past–passed?) Down
From father to daughter, Pisces to Pisces.”
It appears you both enjoyed reading/reviewing poetry of TPLers,
according to your notes;
“...he loved starting his day with you all. “
You’ve also done an excellent job of relating/relaying how much more alike
you two were than different;
“A silent man, as I am woman,
Sponges of life, we soak(ed?) it all in,
Burden(ed?) from the weight
Only to be lightened, as day breaks
Through (poinient-poignant?) verse.”
A virtual repeat of stanzas #1 in stanza 3 serves to reemphasize how parallel
worlds are for both protagonist/antagonist. I hope penning/posting this will
be cathartic and allow you to continue to write. Sorry if I’ve misstated your
intentions. Thanks for sharing your effort. TLW
This Poem was Critiqued By: Sandee L McMullan On Date: 2005-02-10 12:21:55
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Sorry to hear of your Dad's passing.
To write in his honor gives life to his memory.
Bless you.
Title: Dreamer’s Legacy
The title is inviting; it gives a hint of personal drama.
First line sets the scene; the reader is at the table. “and” could be dropped, use a comma instead.
When moving to the second line and thereafter, I run into capitals at the beginning of each line, this does distract the reader, somewhat and one is guessing at where the sentences begin. There is confusion. If I may suggest, to use capitals only at the beginning of the sentence would give a clear direction of meaning as to what role the commas and semi-colons have within the piece.
The details in the first stanza bring alive the scene, “mourning ritual” hits the title to tie it in. The use of an emdash after daughter could accentuate Pisces to Pisces. I like this added info or zodiac signs, shows inheritance also. good one. imo
“from father to daughter – Pisces to Pisces.” Some of the first stanza could be tighten up.
For me the poem starts at stanza 2; the strongest part of this poem, imo. Some unique phrasing here, very refreshing:
“Pouring out from a carafe of ink to cup of paper,
To drink in through smoking contemplation.”
“A silent man, as I am woman,” this line not sure the meaning, perhaps referring to father? The “we soak it all in” perhaps could be rephrased. The word “it” is a tad rough to read and could be hidden within the phrasing.
“Sponges of life, we soak it all in,”
as sponges, we soak in life (something like that)
poinient = poignant ?
The last stanza, I see reflects the first stanza, this could be tighten and summed up more simply rather than drawing it out with fullness of what has been said already. I like the mirroring idea, it works, represents a hit to the title > dreamer’s.
The reader wants to be left with the ethers of duplicity but not necessarily having to read it again, in my opinion. One line summation here could impact just as easily as 5 lines, and making an instant impact.
I enjoyed this little peek into the legacy depicted here.
. . .
regards
This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-02-10 11:16:22
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.87500
poet your dad is so very proud of you and your writing.......the word mourning is so right at this time for we all miss his input......his presence and here you are bringing him to life for us to share one more time....
the miles my dear are just a thought away for one never is far in passing but held within the lining of your heart.......my mom passed last March, close to a year now......I've written very little though what I have written is always directed to her.....she was my inspiration in the beginning when the words first began to flow........I know she is watching over me as your dad is watching over you........
Thank you for sharing this with us, it needs no change, it speaks so well in style, form, word flow and images as it is......be safe and God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2005-02-10 11:10:16
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.50000
What a wonderful gift to all us this poem is Jennifer. We so miss your dad, each in his/her own way and it is so good to know that his amazing talent and introspection is carried on in a new generation.
7:00 a.m. and sitting at the kitchen table
Awaiting the time to leave and start the day.
Notebook and coffee in[#}front of me,
A Cigarette and pen in each hand
An ironic mirror of the past. [ironic indeed]
A mourning ritual [the word works splendidly]that has been [passed ] down
From father to daughter, Pisces to Pisces.
I love the Pisces to Pisces allusion – it speaks of a special connectedness. How lucky you were to have had such a father –one committed to justice and peace in the world.
Epics of thought open up, [“Epics” is a great choice]
Pouring out from a carafe of ink to cup of paper,
[and “cup of paper” is an amazing construction]
To drink in through smoking contemplation.
I won’t lecture you about the smoking metaphor because it makes for great poetry –and it might be just a poetic device, and if it isn’t, you because already know that at some point you must give it up .
A silent man, as I am woman,
Sponges of life, we soak it all in,
Burdened from the weight
Only to be lightened, as day breaks
Through [poignant v]erse.
{As we are all being lightened by this gift-thank you]
Miles away, an empty kitchen table,
Awaiting the time to leave and start his day,
Notebook and coffee in front of him,
Cigerette and pen in each hand;
An ironic mirror of his present.
This ending is spectacular
Please come back and share your splendid poetic vision with us
To Gary
toward a world of
Peace and Freedom
best
Rachel
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