the writing class

photoart & poem ~ 2018 ~ Laura Granby

“I’m quite tired of beating myself up to write.  I think I’ll start letting the words slip out like a tired child. “Can I have a piece of pie” he asks, and then he’s asleep back on the cusp of the moon.”                                                             ~ Jim Harrison (Songs of Unreason)

 

Is it a child who writes?
One too advanced for her years perhaps
seeking permission for the temerity to venture
as far as pie at night – that’s all in the sky
and sleep as distant as the nearest star
the guttering tealight signals countdown
a bell tolls for mass, breaking the fast
in the classrooms, inkwells are being filled
from each small, china white pot, a blue-black eye peers
the child stabs it with her pen, squeamishly
dip-dipped drops, an incandescent spread
down the bright silver metal beneath
over the neat lettering, an adventurous nib splits
splodges shot like tiny cannon dotting the i’s
until the page is full of fireworks and spent dandelion heads
after the last puff of time

Joining Jilly’s poetry prompt  with her pick of Jim Harrison quotes on this Day 19 of 28 Days of Unreason

 

24 comments

  1. Venture as far as pie at night! Oh my, I love that line! When you highlight the child your writing soars. I think back to an earlier image this month of swinging feet 🙂 This is a charming poem; so well crafted. Your unique eye on the world is glorious. I, too, struggled with neatness as a kid, but never did I turn my mess into art. Love the pictures of the art as it bursts onto the paper.

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    1. without sounding like one of those pseudo retrograde therapists (apologies to anyone who resents the adjective but I am not unbiased!), I had not thought much of the child within. Maybe there was more to me then than a gormless soul in a parallel universe 😉

      Either way, I like how much these daily prompts hone some prompt responses – cutting down on thinking and editing time- and am very grateful for your generosity of time and enthusiasm

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  2. I love how this all comes apart so beautifully. You paint a lovely dreamland word picture of one writing (from the child, the blessed inner child) with images that are timeless. This is a dreamy write! I can’t pull a favorite passage because you wrote so many into this poem, and they work together so well.

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  3. This may be my favorite of your poems that I’ve read. The final lines:
    “an adventurous nib splits
    splodges shot like tiny cannon dotting the i’s
    until the page is full of fireworks and spent dandelion heads
    after the last puff of time”

    makes me think of being in the archives and reading a letter from someone long gone.

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    1. were you made to write right handed as a left hander like children of my school days? have always been disappointed with my hand writing as a right hander- the keyboard is my get out clause but I can do a bit of flourish with a quality pen.Pencils are my crossword tool

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      1. No – I was treated kindly. I can still write with both hands, better with the left.
        At school I was told, either is fine, but I must choose ONE.

        Children now are so geared to thumbing keyboards. They are no longer taught to write by hand, and then the brain functions differently. ‘Dipping a pen in ink’ will mystify them ;~))

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