Finally–a sestina has been written. Not a great one, maybe not even a “correct” one ( I have seen so many definitions I am utterly confused) but a first effort. Thank you, Jaymie for prompting me to get this flipping thing done. It was..umm…fun.

Oh–and I’m online–at least for now:)

 

 

 

Unteachable was her verdict, as she shook hands

With the mother, and patted the silent child

On her shoulder-a tap tap tap that was heard

Only by the girl who did not speak.

The wise teacher did not understand

The weight of her scholarly voice.

 

The girl would often remember that voice

At night, when hiding in her room clutching hope in her hands.

She would hear them arguing, using words she didn’t understand–

Phrases that were mercifully foreign to a frightened child.

During these shrill nights she would softly speak

To Jesus, hoping her small voice would be heard.

 

But she knew children should be seen and not heard,

So she learned not to sound her voice

And instead whispered, letting her empty eyes speak

Volumes, as she searched for gentle, guiding hands

To lead her, a lonely, lost and wordless child

Collecting sentence fragments she’d have to one day understand.

 

Years of silent suffering coaxed her to understand

They must be true, those words she heard

That day from her teacher’s lips when she was a child—

That to be noticed and to succeed, she needed a steady voice

That carried weight, as if iron in her hands.

She knew she must learn to speak.

 

How difficult it was trying to speak

With confidence, loud enough so that people would understand.

With trembling, sweating, restless, wringing hands

She stumbled over words, longing to be heard,

Searching desperately for the voice

She abandoned like an unfaithful friend as a child.

 

It came to her one day as she held her own child–

An infant, an innocent who could not speak;

Still too young to have received the coveted gift of voice,

Yet it was impossible not to clearly understand

The stories she was told, the lesson that she heard

From those tiny, limitless hands.

 

And in that quiet moment, her child helped her understand

She could always speak, and she finally heard

Her voice within her hands.

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Val, an extremely talented writer who has just published a children’s book.  Congratulations Val!   I am super excited to have the opportunity to purchase one for my daughter–and to be able to tell her I am acquainted with the author…she’ll just think that’s so way cool 🙂  I just had to let others know…it’s always so wonderful to hear of fellow writers publishing work.  🙂

Take a moment and stop by Val’s place to find out more, and to read some great writing. You won’t be disappointed…

http://valbrussell.wordpress.com/2009/06/02/for-sale-wanna-buy-a-book/

 

Cheers!

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking today…about lots of things, one of them being where and when I write. I have an office, a cheery little space, but it seldom is used. Instead, I sit at my kitchen table, amidst noise and other hub-bub, and expect to be prolific. Dinner, homework, kids, dogs, and my muse–all pulling at my proverbial apron, none of them getting my full attention. And I wonder why I can’t get anything done….

 

Where and when do you write? Do you have a certain place that sparks your creativity? A certain time of day? Is there a space set aside just for writing? And lastly–is it working for you?  Curious minds want to know….do tell!