Feasting at the Table of the Damned by Daniel Ames

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Feasting at the Table of the Damned by Daniel Ames

It takes time to read and then re-read a collection of poems, to enjoy each word, to think about the imagery. It’s a pleasure not to be hurried but to be savored, to be put down and then revisited. You need to bring yourself to the table; your own life experiences which will help you to find a meaning that is your own.

Feasting at the Table of the Damned is indeed a particularly fine collection where the questions raised have to be allowed to mature in your mind, to sink in until their very being inhabit your soul. These poems deserve to be dipped into time and time again until the depths of emotion and imagery diffuse and settle in your mind.

There are a variety of themes that Ames visits; beauty, innocence, loss, indifference, hatred, love and time, which are all used to questions our own lives; past, present and future.

In ‘Perplexing When’ Ames ponders on the passing of time and wonders when people stop caring and realize that they have changed from the idealistic person they used to be.

He asks was it:

When the garden lay fallow

And the first of the weeds arrived.

Do people notice those first weeds arriving? Are we all cursed with the 21^st century illness of being constantly busy where we allow time to pass with alarming haste and then suddenly, one day, notice all of the things we meant to do with our lives but just never got round to, littered around our feet like weeds? Ames challenges us to wonder how and why this happens.

It’s a common fact that life wears people down, whether we fight against this or not. Decisions are made that lead us down particular tracks sometimes without us even realizing a choice has been made. In several of his poems Ames is searching for this illusive moment when in a split second our fate can be changed forever.

In ‘Where the Train Runs Out of Track’ two people, possibly a husband and wife, are worn down by life and can eventually only see its imperfections. They can’t see the future clearly anymore and wonder whether they should indeed continue on together or go their separate ways. But just as above the grey cloud and rain that inhabits many of our days, the sky is blue and the sun is shining, Ames reminds us that there could always be a glimmer of hope that if seen from a different angle, as in the view from above that a hawk has, life can in an instant change for the better, or if the chance is missed we walk,

Toward the precipice ahead

Could there always be hope out there that somehow can be seen and grasped? How many times has an opportunity passed us by unnoticed?

Go read these poems for yourself. Think about them and then read them again. Don’t search for what the poet meant by the words but look into your own soul and find some meaning for yourself.

Knitting

You know, you are never too old to ask for your mother's help. I'm very old and getting older everyday but today I asked for my mother's help. I suppose that it's one of those things that, as you get older, you do less and less. The balance in your relationship changes without you even realising.

When we are babies, well, we need our mother's help all the time. As a mother we have to learn to give so much, to be on tap 24hours a day. When I had my eldest human child I remember thinking, 'But what about me? When do I get to do my stuff now?' Well of course the answer to that is......eh.....I'm not sure - I'll get back to you on that.

As you become a teenager you try your very hardest to show how independent you have become. You try to show how little you care and at every turn you roll your eyes because your mum and dad are just so old and so uncool. I have clear memories of my mum and dad dropping me off at university. For me it was just so exciting; checking out my room, meeting my flatmates, feeling the thrill of the big city. I do also remember being suddenly and quite unexpectedly taken aback at the sight of my dad quickly ushering my mum out because she was crying. I remember feeling guilty because I'd never even considered that my move had anything to do with anyone's feelings other than mine.

I do remember desperately needing my mum's help the day after I arrived home with my first new-born human baby. There was no paternity leave so my husband had to leave for work, leaving me with the baby and the after-effects of a c-section. I've never been so relieved to see anybody in my life when my dad arrived with my mum. She took over and stayed for two weeks while I recovered and I learned what to do with the small pink wriggly human.

Then all of a sudden, without an warning, you discover that your parents are getting old. Again, you don't really notice this happening. The changes are subtle. You notice that they spend a lot of time visiting the doctor. You notice that they are a bit deaf. You notice that they are a bit forgetful. You notice that they've stopped going abroad on holiday. I notice that my mum is smaller than she used to be and that my dad gets tired a lot.

I know how much my brother does for them. I know how much they rely on seeing him everyday. I feel for them when their friends die.

So the balance has changed. They need us now in a different way from before. They look forward to our visits and love the fun and laughter the two human children bring to their lives.

But today, I needed my mother's help and it was great fun. I asked her to show me how to knit. My mum has always knitted. She learned to knit as a child during the Blitz when she sheltered from the German bombs. Mrs. McGee, who lived in the tenement below my mum's family, taught her to help take her mind off the noise of the falling bombs, her little bare knees all the time shaking with fear.

We laughed today as she rolled her eyes at me as I struggled to do what she finds so easy with a pair of knitting needles. This is not the first time she has tried to teach me. This is probably about the 159th time she's tried to teach me. Today she said, 'I always thought you found knitting difficult because you are left-handed but I think it must be more than that!'
Hey, thanks mum! Anyway, I've promised her a scarf for Christmas......she's not holding her breath!

Wasps

There's an angry wasp buzzing around here tonight. I've already killed 3 of its friends. my mother thinks they have built a nest in the loft again. They had the last one removed only recently. Wasps are very persistent creatures. I've posted a pic they took of the wasps nest before it was removed. Quite an impressive structure.

The Chicken Massacre

I found this photo of my mum with her chickens before Mr. Fox attacked...and yes, I feel very guilty that I said bad things. Sloping off to the naughty corner.......

sorry.

Headless Chickens

So today we are visiting the 'grandparents' - my parents. It's that point in the summer holidays when it can no longer be delayed, the poison has to be swallowed, the bullet has to be taken...the duty faced. Does that sound awful? Yes! I hear you cry. ' What a terrible daughter you must be!'

Well it does make me feel awful saying these things but, believe me, it's not how I want things to be. I have a vision in my head of how our visit should go....

We get a great welcome. We're told how pleased they are to see us. We pass over gifts that are treasured not because of their value but because they come from us. We are brought in and we sit around the kitchen table catching up while drinking endless cups of tea and eating homemade biscuits.

Ok, so that's my vision. What actually happened was that I was woken by the phone at 10am this morning. I was still in bed asleep. I had been reading earlier but had sunk into that beautiful deep sleep that can only be achieved after the time you should have been up. Oh..and the amount of wine I had last night probably had something to do with it too.

I stumbled out of bed and groped around for the phone. It was my mum and she wasn't happy. 'We've had very bad news this morning ' she informed me. Oh heck what was coming I thought as I sat down....
'A fox has eaten 3 of our chickens!'

So - should I feel relieved? Grief stricken for the chickens (she only has 5 and she's very proud of them)? What does one say? I went for sympathy but she was in a rage. So anyway, she thought that at 10am we would already have left (thank goodness she couldn't see me in my jimjams). She asked when I thought we might arrive. I gave my usual stock vague reply of 'Sometime later'.......

This drives her nuts. She really wanted a timetable of our movements in advance and probably in triplicate.

I put the phone down and screamed...loudly. I told the youngest human. He screamed loudly...

I was just out of my bed, reluctantly, and I had failed as a daughter already - I hadn't even packed my bag yet.

And I refused to go and inspect the headless chickens...just for your information and no I didn't take a pic of them.