(no subject)
The school week is over. It's time for the weekend.
This week consisted of being sick and laughing through class.
Oh, and writing a poem for creative writing. A LONG one. The style is called a sestina. It is a 7 stanza poem. The first 6 are supposed to have 6 lines that all end with a specific word. The last line of one stanza is supposed to be the first of the next.
Anywayyyy, mines about a man who fell in love with a building. It was fun.
A Latin Lover (And the Very Best Kind!)
By Ella Stern
There was a most magnificent building in the center of the world
I like to think her name was Sheila, but I may have left my mind
In Madrid, where she lived. Where I first caressed her rough teeth
And licked the lions on her head. She turned pink
With anger or embarrassment. But that could have been the sun
Or the moon. Do you ever remember the time of day?
Of course it was scorching. A hot July day
The kind that makes the unfortunate man’s shiny head pink
And the stick ladies with their useless umbrellas curse the sun
As if it somehow understands the English hissed through white teeth
It’s Spain! It’s a Spanish-speaking, sun-embracing hothothot world
Where the seductive stone first felt my touch. I’m sure she didn’t mind.
I know she didn’t, because I courted her first. “What’s on your mind?”
She never answers. She just whines “Bienvenidos” through her teeth.
Although that could be the tour-guides, clad in Barbie suits of pink
“The king sailed in her stones from all over the world.”
“I’m hungry. She’s boring. Are we going to be here all day?”
As if she had no ears. She cries fountains, tears made stale by the sun
Bah! And the ungrateful tourists complain about the sun!
She wastes her royal, rough flesh on expensive shoes. Prada, pink.
I can make it better. I massage her sore, marble shoulders all day.
And I tell her of my past. I’ve traveled the world
And she is still the only lady that creeps to all corners of my mind.
I think I see a smile. Is that Indian ivory or her teeth?
Her lions’ tongues lick my feet. I sip black coffee through my teeth,
Spanish coffee, I could drink it all day.
But she gave me a note saying, “Too much caffeine is bad for the mind,”
Written in Chinese, or some other language from that part of the world.
She left it on her fountain, wrinkled by the sun
I thought it was a love note. My heart fluttered pink.
Before I left, I bathed her. She shined blue-orange-pink
I believed I could see myself in her heart. But alas, reflection. Trickery of the sun
She was cold on my departure. A smile betrayed her teeth
As I made my way through photographers. She looked beautiful that day
I turned back once more. I think I might have lost my mind!
She was already winking and pouting at men from a lesser world.
And then what happened? I’ll tell you. Really, I don’t mind
I’ve been all over the world since then. To skyscrapers, igloos,
Teepees. Fascinating!
But still, when I’m in the hot Sahara in the middle of the day,
Sun shredding my back, her pink spots blurring my vision
I mistake the sandy skin a pyramid for the chocolate, sophisticated coat
That sweet Sheila always wore, and I kiss it.
I kiss it!
This week consisted of being sick and laughing through class.
Oh, and writing a poem for creative writing. A LONG one. The style is called a sestina. It is a 7 stanza poem. The first 6 are supposed to have 6 lines that all end with a specific word. The last line of one stanza is supposed to be the first of the next.
Anywayyyy, mines about a man who fell in love with a building. It was fun.
A Latin Lover (And the Very Best Kind!)
By Ella Stern
There was a most magnificent building in the center of the world
I like to think her name was Sheila, but I may have left my mind
In Madrid, where she lived. Where I first caressed her rough teeth
And licked the lions on her head. She turned pink
With anger or embarrassment. But that could have been the sun
Or the moon. Do you ever remember the time of day?
Of course it was scorching. A hot July day
The kind that makes the unfortunate man’s shiny head pink
And the stick ladies with their useless umbrellas curse the sun
As if it somehow understands the English hissed through white teeth
It’s Spain! It’s a Spanish-speaking, sun-embracing hothothot world
Where the seductive stone first felt my touch. I’m sure she didn’t mind.
I know she didn’t, because I courted her first. “What’s on your mind?”
She never answers. She just whines “Bienvenidos” through her teeth.
Although that could be the tour-guides, clad in Barbie suits of pink
“The king sailed in her stones from all over the world.”
“I’m hungry. She’s boring. Are we going to be here all day?”
As if she had no ears. She cries fountains, tears made stale by the sun
Bah! And the ungrateful tourists complain about the sun!
She wastes her royal, rough flesh on expensive shoes. Prada, pink.
I can make it better. I massage her sore, marble shoulders all day.
And I tell her of my past. I’ve traveled the world
And she is still the only lady that creeps to all corners of my mind.
I think I see a smile. Is that Indian ivory or her teeth?
Her lions’ tongues lick my feet. I sip black coffee through my teeth,
Spanish coffee, I could drink it all day.
But she gave me a note saying, “Too much caffeine is bad for the mind,”
Written in Chinese, or some other language from that part of the world.
She left it on her fountain, wrinkled by the sun
I thought it was a love note. My heart fluttered pink.
Before I left, I bathed her. She shined blue-orange-pink
I believed I could see myself in her heart. But alas, reflection. Trickery of the sun
She was cold on my departure. A smile betrayed her teeth
As I made my way through photographers. She looked beautiful that day
I turned back once more. I think I might have lost my mind!
She was already winking and pouting at men from a lesser world.
And then what happened? I’ll tell you. Really, I don’t mind
I’ve been all over the world since then. To skyscrapers, igloos,
Teepees. Fascinating!
But still, when I’m in the hot Sahara in the middle of the day,
Sun shredding my back, her pink spots blurring my vision
I mistake the sandy skin a pyramid for the chocolate, sophisticated coat
That sweet Sheila always wore, and I kiss it.
I kiss it!