I.'s poems
She asked me to read her the poems that I wrote, but then she decided that she'd prefer funny ones. I can only pretend to be funny in narrative, it would seem. She asked to dictate these poems. I asked if they would be funny and she said no, they had to be sad, but at the end she decided to be silly.
I.
This girl
is a story that you never heard before
about sadness
and the peace
of a hand that never could come
back to this body
it was a story
that is the saddest story.
II.
Una vez en un cementerio
había una tumba
de los muertos
y esos muertos no podían
descansar sus sueños
de la muerte.
III.
Fiddle faddle faddle
this girl was playing on the street.
when she saw the car she ran
she ran faster and faster and faster
and then til she got to the middle of the street
she had no way
to get back now
so that was the way she came
that's the way her house was built
she went the right way and her
house wasn't there.
Mr. Pirate was a mean pirate
he picked his nose and
he could never calm down
so that's how it goes
and that's how it goes,
and fiddle faddle faddle
this is the end.
stick stick stick
this is one day
when the girl was walkin'
the girl was sleepin'
and when that girl was sleeping
she was saying, fiddle faddle faddle.
When I see the girl awaken,
but that's how it goes.
And a story:
One time, a long time ago there was this party and there was skeletons. They were dancing and dancing and dancing together. They had so much fun, they stayed all night. And one day there was this skeleton that was too shy to dance, he went to his grave and there he saw when he was alive, in the mirror. So, he just stepped aside and that's how it goes. I don't care a thing if that's how it goes, I don't blame you a thing, but do you know that thing? was a shy thing, I wish it wasn't but that's how it goes. I wish it was not like this that was how the skeleton was walkin' and walkin and walkin' so far. and that's how it goes, the end, the end, the end.
I.
This girl
is a story that you never heard before
about sadness
and the peace
of a hand that never could come
back to this body
it was a story
that is the saddest story.
II.
Una vez en un cementerio
había una tumba
de los muertos
y esos muertos no podían
descansar sus sueños
de la muerte.
III.
Fiddle faddle faddle
this girl was playing on the street.
when she saw the car she ran
she ran faster and faster and faster
and then til she got to the middle of the street
she had no way
to get back now
so that was the way she came
that's the way her house was built
she went the right way and her
house wasn't there.
Mr. Pirate was a mean pirate
he picked his nose and
he could never calm down
so that's how it goes
and that's how it goes,
and fiddle faddle faddle
this is the end.
stick stick stick
this is one day
when the girl was walkin'
the girl was sleepin'
and when that girl was sleeping
she was saying, fiddle faddle faddle.
When I see the girl awaken,
but that's how it goes.
And a story:
One time, a long time ago there was this party and there was skeletons. They were dancing and dancing and dancing together. They had so much fun, they stayed all night. And one day there was this skeleton that was too shy to dance, he went to his grave and there he saw when he was alive, in the mirror. So, he just stepped aside and that's how it goes. I don't care a thing if that's how it goes, I don't blame you a thing, but do you know that thing? was a shy thing, I wish it wasn't but that's how it goes. I wish it was not like this that was how the skeleton was walkin' and walkin and walkin' so far. and that's how it goes, the end, the end, the end.
posted by ilana at 9:04 p.m.
5 Comments:
She definitely has a thing for narrative! Being so young and all, I'd say I. has a great potential for stepping on her mom's path...
Tell her I said congrats, and give her a big hug for me!
I love silly poems. Es como si me hicieran ataque de cosquillas.
Flor, cada vez más me asombra su uso del lenguaje, y su selección de imágenes.
Sole, a mí también, sólo que lo único que me sale a la hora de escribir poesía es triste, erótico o monstruoso o una combinación de los elementos. Sigh. Tal vez algún día cambiará.
Enganchado, al borde del asiento, después de esa aterradora descripción sobre la mano que no podía retornar al cuerpo.
Impresionante como toma el poder, con su "is a story that you never heard before", defendiéndose de eso que tanto odian los niños: el fatídico "ya me la sé".
A mí fijate que me impresionó la metáfora de una niña como si fuera una historia, como si al cantar la vida de alguién la haces "real" (para seguir con nuestra idea de la realidad)
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