The Girl Wants Something Else

This is 1/3 the length it was this morning.  Do I need to cut the last stanza? What else? Thank you.  

The Girl Wants Something Else
 
My friend said, I got no call, no card
on Mother’s Day. Nada.
 
Her breathing shifted to a deeper place,
but she muddled through the muck
of talking about the mother-daughter thing.
More complicated than what’s under the hood of a car,
more delicate than any surgical procedure.
 
My mouth hardly moved, but thoughts raced—
the girl wants something else.
 
None of the story belonged to me,
but my mind would not leave it alone.
 
Daughters. They are not goddesses.
It’s easy to mess up.
No manual on how to kindly let go
of a mother’s hand.
 
Furthermore, in that other world
where one was little and one was big,
where they drank sugared tea in mason jars,
that was just a sweet dream.

The last stanza was actually my favorite!
I'm not sure if this is a good idea, but I kinda wonder if you can cut out the speaker and just have the interaction or lack thereof between the mother and daughter? Maybe there's a way to show what happened between drinking sugared teati no mother's day card.

Or maybe I'm just not skilled at this kind of poem. So feel free to disregaed my comments!

I send poems that I know need some help.  Thank you, Renee, for your thoughts.  I'll play with that idea.  

The mom and daughter did not interact.  I think that's where the mom's sorrow came from.  They were once close, not now.  I know several moms with daughters who are estranged from them.  I wonder if the daughter's are supersensitive to whatever the mom says now. The daughters have cut off the moms as if to give the moms a message.  This mom and another I know do not know how to interpret the behavior of the daughter.  Sad stuff. Hard stuff.  I tried to find a way to leave me out of the poem because I'm not observing it.  I listened to the mom tell it over the phone. I hear her questions, her wondering, her sadness.  

One to continue to look at and rewrite.

Thank you for suggestions.  It may be Monday before I get back to it, but I will.

Is this any better?  I'm open to specific suggestions if you have one. This poem used to be a page long!     

The Girl Wants Something Else
 
I got no call, no card
on Mother’s Day. Nada.
 
Her breathing shifted to a deeper place,
but she muddled through the muck
of talking about the mother-daughter thing.
More complicated than what’s under the hood of a car,
more delicate than any surgical procedure.
 
Hope, still alive in the mother,
though the girl had found an abrupt way to say,
I want something else.
 
Daughters. Certainly not goddesses.
Easy to mess up.
No manual on how to
simultaneously love and let go of
a mother’s hand.
 
Furthermore, it’s hard to accept
that other world
where one was little and one was big,
where they drank sugared tea in mason jars
was just a sweet dream.

I can copy and paste with no extra lines.... thanks, Todd!

Pat

I hope to post a poem soon.  I've been out of state.

I think I need the narrator to be one of the parties:  mother or daughter.

Todd

I know it needs something more and different.  
I'll give it a go. 
Thank you.

Where I am right now.  

Mother’s Day
 
No call, no card,
No clue on what I did wrong.
 
We use to drink sweet tea from mason jars,
spend girl time together, share heart-to-heart.
 
Now my clothes bother her, my choices bother her.
She blushes if I offer a poor person a ride.
 
My daughter, filled with advice, can’t hear my heart.
Makes me feel like a box of rocks.
 
The signs have been there, I see that now.
Shocking.
 
She’s trying so hard to be appropriate,
while I’m trying to love everybody, no matter
 
who they are or what they don’t have.
Guess it’s hard for her to let me be me.
 
I love my part-time jobs. They pay the bills,
but she says, You need benefits.
 
She sounds like a mockingbird. I’m a sparrow.
Fine, but I miss getting a card.

I like where this is going!
I love the first stanza, and how you tie the card back in at the end.

I like the couplets too. It read smoothly.

I didn't get what was "shocking" ... Was the daughter shocked at mom's choices or the mom shocked that there were signs? Or maybe both?

The part about benefits helped me know the daughter was older and not a teenager.

I wonder if the stanzas need reordering? My thought was to put stanza 7 after 3?

may be the way to go.  Helpful to try that when I struggle with a poem.  Gives it a new angle.

Glad you like the couplets.  

Shocking.  (I need to clarify somehow, I guess.) The mother is just now "getting"  that the daughter doesn't like how the mother lives her life.  The daughter mothers the mother!  Any suggestions on that line?  

If not, I'll hit it another lick tomorrow.  

Throw a poem at us, Rene.  We need the practice of critique.   

If you think of anything else, pitch it my way.  Thanks.  I'll look at it again tomorrow.  I'm busted today.

I understand needing a break! You did great work.

I was thinking of the phrases of "role reversal" or something like "She was now the mother, I the child." Something like that.

I am a little embarrassed to say I haven't written anything but emails since Covid started. I will look in my files to see if I have one that I feel is ready to share and needs some help.

Pat

I tend to challenge the narrator in poems . . . "How can the N know THAT?"  I know only one who is omniscient. 

I think this last version is much stronger.  But it drifts to omniscience and telling pretty quickly.  I cut the telling parts.  Does the poem still work in this revision?

Mother’s Day
 
No call, no card,
No clue on what I did wrong.
 
We use to drink sweet tea from mason jars,
spend girl-time together, share heart-to-heart.
 
Now my clothes bother her, my choices bother her.
She blushes if I offer a poor person a ride.
 
She's a mockingbird; I’m a sparrow.
Fine, but I miss getting a card.

but I think it works, Todd. More memorable too.  Gosh.

You did do MAJOR cutting.   

I didn't scroll down far enough, I guess.  Rene had suggested a reordering.  I did that and repeated a line 3 times.  Good exercise.  

I'll try to keep the omniscient aspect in mind. I've read or heard that before. Yes, the mother is guessing about the daughter. (I suppose that's why reporting on senses is always the smarter route.) 

The reordering I did before seeing Todd's shorter version, which is amazing to me. 

Mother’s Day
 
No call, no card,
No clue on what I did wrong.
 
We use to drink sweet tea from mason jars,
be real, share heart-to-heart.
 
Now my clothes bother her, my choices bother her.
She blushes if I offer a poor person a ride.
 
My daughter.
Guess it’s hard for her to let me be me.
 
She looks my way but can’t hear my heart.
Makes me feel like a box of rocks.

Important to her to look and act proper,
while I want to love everybody, no matter
 
who they are or what they don’t have.
Guess it’s hard for her to let me be me.
 
I love my part-time jobs. They pay the bills,
but she says, You need benefits.
 
She sounds like a mockingbird.
I’m a sparrow.


Guess it’s hard for her to let me be me.

Fine, but I miss getting that card.