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[fantasticmuse]

vensre and I are making poems.

A few days ago she chose the theme "the strange appeal of glasses." She went on to pick a challenging form-- Sapphic Ode. Here's what I managed:


"The trick's in glass"

Square frames, curved lens-- one look and I'm gone, each time.
Silk smiles, silk suits, you keep them: they don't suit me
The trick's in glass and one look can break and
make my heart shake-pound

Shed your dress and throw your new shoes away but
leave your glasses right where they are-- so you can
see my knees go weak and my eyes alight just
watching you be you




Trochaic is hard. I mean, wow. I thought learning to write in iambic was hard, but good golly, this was nigh on impossible. I'm still not sure I actually achieved it. Ironically enough, the second stanza came first, and it's actually better, meter-wise.

The dactyl in the middle of the line really threw me. It's like a stammer, or a stutter, the extra beat.

Nevertheless, I am pleased with the result, and I'm so glad I got dragged into this. :P

Here's Ven's poem. It's fabulous, and full of her personal style, which I adore. :)



***

In other news, I worked at what's called a "grief camp" today. It's a day camp for kids who have lost a close relative. When I got there, my file for my camper said: "Age, 5. Grade, Kindergarten. B******'s mom died around 8:00 from a blood clot when she was home alone with her. Dad came home around noon and found her and mom. B****** feels she should have known how to call for help, but couldn't. Grandpa died the next day on 12/02."

Seriously. Is there any way to read that without having your heart break?

She was a beautiful girl with bright blue eyes. She didn't talk a whole lot, which was her prerogative, I think. She hung in there the whole day like a trooper, though. Pretty long day for such a little thing. She opened up a bit more in one-on-one and she loved playing outside at the park. She never mentioned her mom at all, except at one point out of the blue when we were coloring.

"Two people in my family died," she said.

"Yeah, I know, sweetie, your mom and grandpa," I said.

Then she nodded and went back to coloring her memory box. A few minutes later she said "I don't know how to spell Michelle."

"Why do you want to spell Michelle?"

"That was my mom."

I wrote it for her on the outside of the box.

Comments

[maetelle.livejournal.com]

As potentially sad as that story is just by its subject, it made me smile. Kids are so amazingly resilient. It reminds me of a quote from Patch Adams: 'We start out so open and spontaneous.'