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This Poem was Submitted By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2016-06-24 14:48:56 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Sixteen Candles

It’s your birthday and the cars are a rainbow on wheels, again The couches are covered in plastic, there are ashtrays in hospitals The Polo Grounds, the Polo Grounds “how could they ever?” the Polo Grounds It’s your birthday, and Mom is here, and Leo, Eddie, beautiful Eddie Stanky And Mom is here (we said that already) Sixteen candles his song, their song on his birthday cake And that other one Until the Twelfth of Never On her gravestone.

This Poem was Critiqued By: DeniMari Z. On Date: 2016-07-05 22:16:16
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
The reference to another point in time was very effective pull in to your poem - When you lived in those times you never forget - yet then I hesitated with your fourth verse; and re-read the entire piece which is written in simple terms which you normally veer away from - and I imagine it's a tribute - and a good one at that - speaking of enduring love etched on her gravestone - Very good write, Deni

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joe Gustin On Date: 2016-07-02 11:31:30
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.75000
There are hints in this poem as to the timeline of its inspiration. It am thinking the late 1970's. I did not get the Polo Grounds ref. but yes on the rainbow and ashtrays in the hospitals.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2016-06-29 18:18:35
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Good Morning, As music is concerned, The Twelfth of Never, by Johnny Mathis is often a go to song for me when I am introspective or my moment requires framing. I also like the Donny Osmond version because it sends me back to a blind double date I and my best friend had, where we picked up the girls in El Sobrante and went somewhere. Really I don’t remember where, but they were crazy about Donny Osmond, The Twelfth of Never and Paul Anka’s, Puppy Love. Sixteen Candles on the birthday cake, of “he”, and the voice of more than one, “we said that already”, and after several readings, and living the moment and the monument- I am (readers are) left with the legacy- The era is so well staged with plastic and ashtrays, and the acquaintances could put it anywhere from 1928 to 1955 or so, with Eddie Stanky, what an amazing thought- and I’m left wondering if Leo (everyone seems to have an uncle Leo), is the book end of Stanky, meaning Leo Durocher. Any older person like me who loves baseball would wonder the same thing. I feel a lot of love an memory reaching from this piece. The reach to Dad, and the love of Mom, and the monument is touching, from young to forever. Thank you for sharing this piece. It restores so much from another time in my life, as well as what is known of yours.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2016-06-25 20:33:42
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
MSS, This seems a revisiting of old memories, with an undercurrent of sorrow and anger. Perhaps a juxtaposition of the death of someone loved with a birthday celebration. Or a conflation of the two. What I do know is that I felt my stomach sink with dread at the final line, as if I had had forewarning. The mention of hospitals in S2, with a gravestone in the final line tells me that a tragedy has happened. The jaunty rhythm in S3 seems to mock the reality of what has taken place. The presence of the mother, and Eddie Stanky seem to portray an unfortunate pair (if they were a pair). My sense is that no one was there for the one in grief. It's a powerful poem, and I haven't really done it justice. The title had prepared me for sorrow. And age 16 is so very vulnerable. It's an honor to comment on this poem. I just listened to you read some of your recorded poems and am still very moved by them. JU

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