All four of my daughters were vets from the moment of birth. They were all born while I was on Active Duty, were born in Army hospitals, and bounced back and forth between the U.S. and West Germany with their mom and me (the eldest ones more than once).
Ouch. Too real for me today. I was homeless years ago and Montana has a high vet population struggling with personal issues. This literally could be today's headlines here.
My comment is based on professional editing points. It is meant to be honest, encouraging, and respectful in accordance with WDC guidelines.
THE POEM
The poem is a nice tribute to a military mother.
WHAT I LIKED
I can totally relate to this poem having served in the military myself. There are often times one worries and finds things to pass the time, but their loved one is never far from their hearts.
STRUCTURE
This is a villanelle. A villanelle is a highly structured poem with 5 tercets and ends with a quatrain. There are 2 repeating rythmes and 2 repeating refrains. The poem followed the structure. I thought the repeating refrains were very respectful and reverent. There's a nice rythme and flow when spoken outloud.
MECHANICS
I did not spot any spelling/punctuation mistakes. Good use of WDC ML to increase font and make easier to read on the website.
DESCRIPTIONS
I liked: With steadfast devotion, she prays to relieve the anxiety" The description draws up a visual of a mother, prayerful, with a holy book, or a passage, heart on their sleeve, looking to find peace. It's a great description and taps into somber emotion well.
PARTING THOUGHTS/SUGGESTIONS
The opening engages the reader. The title is a nice fit for the poem. Good luck in the Bard's Hall Contest.
Enormous joy derives from honest toil
while working with one's hands in garden soil
to cultivate in harmony with land
and get away from all that social roil.
We're planting food and flower gardens grand
and harvesting tomatoes to be canned
beside a bed of blushing peonies,
protecting earth like Mother Nature planned.
The melody of buzzing honey bees
in search of food among the cherry trees
and salty perspiration soon reveal
the Heaven sent delights we try to seize.
When work day is finally done, we kneel
to help a badly jaded spirit heal
with tender golden corn on cob to boil
when Mama cooks our special Sunday meal.
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