Spring quarter of last year I was involved in a Form and Theory class. Sounds super dull, right? Honestly if it wasn’t for the amazing teacher I had my brain probably would have tried to escape through my eye sockets, BUT as it were he was a pretty amazing guy. We mucked about with form in poetry, read Stephen Fry’s The Ode Less Traveled (which I sincerely recommend btw) and guess what? I actually LEARNED. THINGS.
This is one of those things. Hey wanna play spot the form? readysetgo!
The grass grows when no one is looking,
and the wind
tears gently at my clothes, tracing
a path through the dandelions.
And, oh, that sweet wind
smelling of anise and ginger rising above
this place among the dandelions
where we sit together at dusk,
you with the scent of anise and ginger
clinging to your hair and skin,
and me in your arms as dusk
bends to meet the horizon.
With the last light clinging to your hair and skin,
you tear gently at my clothes, tracing,
bending to meet my horizon.
And still, the grass grows when no one is looking.
If you guessed Pantoum you win! *hands bouquet of kittens*
Daww okay I kinda broke it a little, but ironically that was the point of the class. It’s the idea that you can’t refine your own style if you don’t master the fundamentals. Like Picasso and his Blue Period. So there you are.