Thursday, September 13, 2007

Listening Out 3: A Paradelle

Here are a few things I've heard recently out my window:

-$1,200 bucks a month? Damn Californians!
-It really isn't my fault.
-Do we really wanna live here?
-I used to do that shit.

And now I shall attempt to incorporate these seemingly random overheard snipits into a very short-short story/paradelle variation. Why? First of all, why not? Second of all, because it keeps the brain young and fresh. And c) because I'm a hopeless word geek and I like it that way. Oh, and Michael5000 suggested it, although that was before I was o'er taken by the paradelle.


Listening Out: A Paradelle

He didn’t want to stop, but she insisted.
He didn’t want to stop, but she insisted.
She gasped, “$1,200 bucks a month?” “Damn Californians,” he complained.
She gasped, “$1,200 bucks a month?” “Damn Californians,” he complained.
Californians insisted she didn’t want to stop, but he gasped.
“Damn,” she complained, “He bucks $1,200 a month?”

Considering their options, they discussed. “Do we really wanna live here?”
Considering their options, they discussed. “Do we really wanna live here?”
Looking around, he declared, “I used to do that shit.” She said, “It really isn’t my fault.”
Looking around, he declared, “I used to do that shit.” She said, “It really isn’t my fault.”
“He really used my shit,” she declared, looking around. “Really, considering it…do I, we wanna do that here?”

They discussed their options. Said fault isn’t to live.

They declared Californians want $1,200, g
asped!
But he really isn’t looking to do it.
Really, considering that he bucks around,
We discussed, insisted she live here a month.
She didn’t wanna fault their options.
She said, “Do I complained? He used to stop my damn shit.”

Monday, September 10, 2007

The Paradelle: A Fantastic Hoax!

Turns out that poet Billy Collins fabricated the history and origins of the paradelle in order to give credence to this new form he created as a parody of other fixed forms. Nevertheless, it has taken on a life of its own and an anthology of paradelles has even been compiled, for which I am truly grateful. I completely enjoyed writing my first paradelle and expect that I shall make many more.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paradelle
http://www.redhen.org/bookDetail.asp?bookID=199

Sunday, September 9, 2007

My Very First Paradelle

So I was reading Sailing Alone Around the Room by Billy Collins, a collection of new and selected poems because it contains The Night House from Picnic, Lightning, which contains the most memorable image from a poem for me ever. Referring to the heart, mind, conscience and soul just before waking:

Then, they all will return to the sleeping body
the way a flock of birds settles back into a tree...

Flipping AWESOME! Totally WICKED!

So then I came across this other poem called Paradelle for Susan, and thought, what the heck is a paradelle? Lucky for me he added this explanatory note:

A paradelle is one of the more demanding French fixed forms, first appearing in the langue d'oc love poetry of the eleventh century. [Whatever that is.] It is a poem of four six-line stanzas in which the first and second lines, as well as the third and fourth lines of the first three stanzas, must be indentical. The fifth and sixth lines, which traditionally resolve these stanzas, must use all the words from the preceding lines and only those words. Similarly, the final stanza must use every word from all the preceding stanzas and only those words.

Thusly was the challenge set before me to write my very first paradelle, which I now present to you, gentle readers. I am most proud.

Paradelle for Mr. Karin
_
Sitting in the rising sun, longing for a drink
Sitting in the rising sun, longing for a drink
A family of sunflowers waves from nextdoor,
A family of sunflowers waves from nextdoor.
A family from next door, rising, sitting in the sun
Waves, longing for a drink of sunflowers.
_
A black creature bounds through the grass.
A black creature bounds through the grass.
Not a cat, it hops to me and nibbles, just as shy and allergic as you are.
Not a cat, it hops to me and nibbles, just as shy and allergic as you are.
You are allergic to me, just as the black grass,
And a cat hops, not nibbles. It shy.
_
Go away! Come back! My inarticulate dance.
Go away! Come back! My inarticulate dance.
You only sit still for a moment.
You only sit still for a moment.
A still moment, you dance away.
You only come back for my inarticulate, "Sit...go."
_
Drink in the shy sun, just for a moment.
Sit still not as a creature hops, nibbles through black grass,
As you are rising, longing for inarticulate me.
My dance waves and bounds back, sunflowers of sitting.
You come away from a family and the cat nextdoor
Only, allergic to it, go, "a...a...a!"
_
_
A note about process: I wrote the first three stanzas while, as you can guess, sitting in the sun in my back yard. The first four lines of each stanza are fairly easy to assemble, while the final two lines really take some mental effort. That's the fun part, trying make sure to get in all the words. When it came to the final stanza; however, notecards, pencil and scissors were called for, as I am quite visual and kinesthetic. I proceded to write down each word of the poem in rows on index cards. Then I cut them out, in the breeze-free indoors, word by word so that I could move them around the table, rearranging as seemed appropriate and delightful until I arrived at the poem you see above.