All 2 entries tagged Week One

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October 14, 2007


Here is the dialogue we had to do for ICW prose section.  I couldn't think of a good secret so I feel it is weak, though I do like writing dialogue.  Characters are fun to create and diologue helps to make the character.  Oh and I forgot to do single quotes, but I'm from California and double quotes are normal there. :O

   Dim orange light of the afternoon sun pierced the windows and spread out across the hard tile floor. Rows of tan orange lockers, similar to the colour of apricots but not at all appetizing, lined the almost deserted hall of the school building. It was almost empty for there were two girls of about seventeen standing in the hall, talking. One was tall and thin, like a giraffe for she had that awkwardness about her too such as when the giraffe has to spread its legs tripod-like to be able to lower its head enough for a drink. She was always slouching as if embarrassed by her height and wanting to be smaller, to slip away into the shadows such as the long, gray ones created by the lockers that were partly shading her, making her shoulder-length, straw coloured hair seem dark brown and her hazel eyes gray. The other girl was short and stocky in comparison, yet petite would be a better word for she was not overweight, just small and so the pounds showed more readily. Her long, brown hair that frizzled down to her waist was her most notable feature, yet to look at her face the thick eyebrows she couldn’t be bothered to pluck, glasses, freckles and rather large nose stuck out as well. 

   It was she who was speaking. “So, how did you do on last Friday’s Spanish test?”

   “Eh, it was ok,” the other said, unenthusiastically, shrugging a little. “I passed at least.”

   “That’s good,” the shorter girl replied with a smile. “I did horrible,” she slashed the air with her hand. “Our teacher is a grammar Nazi,” the girl’s hands spread palms up shaking at the ceiling, “she doesn’t care about ideas at all, just do you have subject adjective, verb, whatever, agreement,” she shook her head. “So annoying.” 

   “Yeah, it is.”

   “I wish I had a better teacher. Mrs. Lackso is sooo frustrating.” The girl bent her hands like claws. “Something should be done about her.”

   “Done about her?” the taller girl said quietly. “Like what?”

   “I mean like make her retire or something.”

   “Oh,” the taller girl let out a nervous chuckle, “that.”

   “I’ll have to ask my cousin for help if this keeps up.”

   “Help? Isn’t that going a bit far?” she raised her eyebrows.

   “Well, my cousin is studying Spanish at university so she should be able to help me.”

   She’s a university student,” she said surprised.

   “Yeah, what did you think I was going to say?”

   “Nothing, nevermind.”

   “But now you have me curious, Michelle.” She bounced on the balls of her feet a bit, “Tell me.”

   “I’d rather not.”

   “Come on. Now I want to know.”

   The girl was silent for a moment. “I just only ever saw your cousin Rocco.”

   “Oh, him? He’s no good at Spanish,” she waved her hand dismissively. “He’d be better at wrestling a bear than saying oso.”

   Michelle glanced at the milti-coloured floor and then the lockers. She shifted her weight to the other foot. The silence filled the corridor.

  “So, what are you doing this weekend?” the shorter girl asked.

   “Nothing much,” Michelle replied. “Maybe we could get together.”

   “Yeah, you should come over to my house.”

   “Oh, um, wouldn’t it be easier for you to come to mine?” Michelle looked at the shorter girl eagerly. She’d heard, uh, things about the other girl’s family.

   “It’s no problem for you to come to my house,” the dark haired girl told her. “We’re having a family dinner.” She smiled. “So there will be great food, like spaghetti and ravioli and rizzoto,” the girl closed her eyes as if imagining all the delicious things to eat, “so good.” She nodded her head in satisfaction. “We Lipari’s know how to cook.”

  “Ah.” Michelle nodded and then asked, “What sort of name is that?” just make sure.

   “It’s Italian. Lipari Island is just off of Sicily.”

   “Heh, interesting.” Michelle gave a half smile. There was small silence.

   “So, can you come?”

   “Well, actually,” Michelle glanced sideways nervously, “I have a lot to do this weekend. You know Mrs. Lackso assigned us that paragraph to write in Spanish and then I have physics homework and I really should practice my sax,” she tried to look like she was sorry, giving a fake grimace. “And my mom wanted me to clean my room and I have to watch my little sister I think when my mom has her breakfast date with a friend.” The words sped out.

   “Oh,” the long haired girl shrugged. “I understand. You’re busy.”


   “Ok. Well, I guess I’ll see you Monday then.” The girl put her hand up in a half wave and turned to start walking down the hall.

   “Right.” Michelle turned towards the door and pushing it open let out a sigh as relief washed over her like the cool air of the late afternoon.

flower poem

Here is the poem we did interrogating a flower.  I know the rhyming needs work, but I hope to improve.  I just thought rhyming would be fun since the poems I write on my own never rhyme.  I like the ideas I came up with though since one does not usually associate a flower with crime. We had to come up with a new style for this poem so here is what I did.

The Expandette (Espanderrone in Italian) is an old style of poetry originating from the monks of Northern Italy during the 13th century. It is a form where each stanza has one more line than the previous one, so the first stanza has one line, the second two and so on. This was to increase their praise for God each time, so that by the tenth stanza it is quite a long praise indeed. Each stanza is made up of rhyming couplets, so the odd numbered stanzas end in one line that does not rhyme with any line in the stanza. Also the first and last words of the poem must be the same, usually “God” in the original poems. However, over time the form has been adapted to become used to describe various topics, not just ones concerning religion. Though it lost popularity, during the Romantic period a small group of Italian authors picked up the style again, though with much shorter poems than originally, and it even spread to the rest of Europe.

Flower Crime

‘State your name,’ the voice behind the light said

‘I am Miss Flower
I sit by the bank hour after hour’

‘I am Inspector Ucello so don’t waste my time.
There are some questions I’d like to ask concerning a crime.

It happened by the river.’

‘I’m in here for questioning?
But all I know is how the birds sing
Or the creek ripples over a stone

And the wind whispers all alone.’

‘I think you know more than you say
You were there that day
The incident occurred
Or so I gained from a little bird

Tell me’

‘I live in a lush green meadow
My pretty petals on show
My sweet fragrance floats all around
Simply sitting I make not a sound.
I am in the same place all of the time

And I tell you I witnessed no crime.’

‘Everyone questioned said you were there
When the harmful substance was released in the air
It hurt a poor boy who happened by
He went away with a tear in his eye
And a runny nose he wiped on his hand.
Now that I can not stand.’

He looked at her accusingly.

‘I’m innocent!’ the flower cried
Ask any of those who sit by my side.
Qualms with others I have none
I would not hurt anyone.
The breeze blows me about
But I do not argue or shout.
I am complacent and kind

There’s no reason to question me; there’s nothing to find’

‘What about these?
Accusations from the birds and the bees.
They have seen what you have done,
Out in broad daylight under the sun.
Things are not in your favor.
You are known for outrageous behavior.
I have a record of previous crimes.
You’ve been sited multiple times

For indecent exposure’

‘To all, myself, I do not expose!’
‘Ah but flowers wear no clothes,
Your sexual organs are out for all to see
Your perfume and colour entice every bee
Your stamen and pistol are out on display
From morning ‘til the end of the day
Surrounded by pretty petals, you flaunt for everyone
The parts used for reproduction.
You, dear flower, are so indecent

To jail you really should be sent!’

‘You’re accused of illegal trafficking too’
‘Inspector I say it isn’t true!’
‘Ah but flower you lied
From the law you cannot hide.
I have here photographic evidence
Of more than one instance.
Innocent insects come by
You powder them with golden dust and away they fly.
You have others do your dirty deeds
You are no better than the clinging weeds.

You’re a criminal.

The pretty flower sighed and shook her head
Then looked up and quietly said
‘Perhaps I am guilty of those things,
Of utilizing creatures with wings,
Or of being so sweet a hummingbird will not miss
Hovering by to give me a kiss,
Or of exposing myself for all to see
Though I do not think one should hide beauty
Beings of great beauty are generally accused
By those less beautiful so I am not amused
By these accusations with which you toy

I tell you I did not touch the boy!’

‘You can not escape now.
If you are innocent then tell me how
We have this video of you
At the scene of the crime with the boy too?’
The flower then cracked, ‘All right I’ll admit
I am the one who did it!’
I did not mean to, I swear
But my pollen floated into the air
On the breeze it blows
And then up the little boy’s nose.
It could have just as easily been from the trees
But it was I who made the boy sneeze.

I confess.’

‘So you finally admit it,” he said with a grin,
I knew you were guilty from the time you came in.
Your delicate face could not hide
The criminal I saw lurking inside.’
With a flick of his wing he commanded, ‘Take her away!
A prison cell is where she shall stay.’
Handcuffs were clamped around each leaf of green,
The rings of iron for all to be seen.
The guards lead her off down the hall
Where she broke down and began to bawl.
She was so upset because of her guilt
That she positively started to wilt.
It is not pretty, I must relate,
To see a flower in such a state.

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  • It's great blog!! My friend is a poet !! Last week he purchased a Glorious Garden from From You Flow… by talisha on this entry
  • Your first point seems to be that a poem that "shows" is purely descriptive, and mime's nature as it… by on this entry
  • I'm gonna have to disagree with Claire here. I think this does qualify as poetry, though it's clearl… by on this entry
  • some nice images here, although maybe perhaps you could experientment a little bit more with your ad… by on this entry
  • It's a lonely poem indeed, but I do agree with Claire, it isn't subtle. Still, sometimes poetry is f… by on this entry

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