The Swamps of Sleethe
I’ve just recently started beefing up my poetry section in my personal library. I looked out over my shelves and realized I had many biographies but not the works that made the people famous in the first place. On hunting down essential poets and their work, I started stumbling across more children’s poetry that I’d like to have for Ayla. Punctuation Celebration was one of the first, many children’s picture books are poetic in nature and I’ve been trying to make sure we have the cleverest and the best here at home, at our fingertips. Among these searches after Story Time at Half Price Books, I came across The Swamps of Sleethe
Prelutsky is the first Children’s Poet Laureate and also a Star Trek fan, which is obvious in this wonderfully fantastical adventure through space (or his version of it) via rhymes and anagrams. Visit fictional planets like Ogdofod and risk becoming dogfood. Breathe even one breath of air in the World of Thade and you’ll be poisoned to death. The poems are exciting, a little bit scary, but wonderful for your kiddos at home who find poetry and space adventure enticing.
The Cold of Drifig Prime, illustration by Jimmy Pickering
On top of the fabulous work of this brilliant wordsmith are the illustrations of Jimmy Pickering
Needless to say, I bought my copy at Half Price Books, and I’m a huge fan with absolutely no buyer’s remorse. Every parent needs a copy for their kiddo.
“Bad” Habits and Edna
I have a really bad habit, that I have no intention of breaking, of judging books at a glance, by their cover. This habit our parents and grandparents warned us against, is justified to me by two things: my marketing degree and a blurb Paul Collins wrote in his book Sixpence House: Lost in a Town of Books
Regardless of that justification, it has led me to some horrible mistakes (I thought Rudolf Steiner
Directly, it led me to Tanya Egan Gibson
You see, I once belonged to an online book club. It was lovely place that I adored, where as a group, we read lots of British things. We had fabulous nicknames (I was Lady Klemm of Deasa Manor) and were only required to read the selections and maintain our character. At first… later there were a whole host of requirements, like reading and participating more each year than you did the last and agreeing with the admin of the group on every particular. I was kicked out- “expunged” the admin liked to call it – indirectly for getting pregnant and having a child, directly for knowing the proper definitions of literary terms.
In this group, the Mitford Sisters
You will laugh when I reveal that instead of Nancy Mitford, I had grabbed a book by… wait for it….
but didn’t realize this until months later as I was reading through my TBR pile, something every voracious reader has stashed about the house and never seems to diminish no matter how quickly you pluck through it.
Alas! It was a biography of Edna St. Vincent Millay by Nancy Milford. Well, who is this? I asked myself. I can’t read a biography on a person without reading their work first. I want to have a feel for the quotes, I want to understand their mood they were in while writing my favorite piece, and I can’t get the full picture without having a favorite piece!
So, back to the bookstore I went and found myself a hardback of Edna’s poems, a collected works. It’s been heavenly. Reading her poetry has made for some of the sweetest moments with my baby.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Late at night, when she’s teething and can’t sleep, we rock in the glider and in the lamplight of my library I whisper lines from Edna. When the kiddo is at her crankiest, she sometimes crawls into the chair ahead of me and points to the white spine, she is aware that she is soothed by the rhythm of these poems. When it’s raining, like today, and we’re feeling scratchy and feverish, all the singing and hot tea in the world is no match in comparison to the calm that is offered by reading Edna aloud.
Poetry is not something I read often; it’s not my “go to” genre. But I appreciate it, usually the sarcastic and simple like William Carlos Williams, a pre-teen favorite of mine. Edna St.Vincent Millay has changed that for me, I think. I’m prepared to seek out more poetry in the future, especially as I raise this kid, my beautiful daughter, in hopefully the most literary household anyone has ever seen.
Bit of Nostalgia
How sad is it that when I remember you – I remember me.
I remember me walking down the trolley, knowing you’d asked for me.
I remember I had curly hair that day, a rare occurance, and you commented on my poney tail.
Now you don’t answer and I always really did mean to be friends.
I suppose it’s for the best.
How sad it is that when I remember you – I remember me.
I remember me walking out into the cold, knowing you’d asked for me.
I remember my jeans were tight on my skinny little thighs, and you commented on my ass.
Now you’re elswhere and I’m glad, because I never meant to be friends.
It’s definitely for the best.
How sad it is that when I remember you – I remember him.
I remember crying in the car driving to your house, knowing he’d ask for me.
I remember that song playing, never ending, and you commented on how we both wanted something else.
Now I’m finally happy, because there were so many of you and now there’s just him.
Not sad at all really.
Anakalian Whims 