A Slice of Sky

MOTHERSONG

A leaf trickled down

onto the dew

on white, steel mornings

as if to say

“You thought I would not last the night,

the frost bears its might upon my body:

it will choke my stillborn song.”

Heavy it lay upon your back

bearing upon your tender frame

the deadness of aborted rain

that had given itself up to

beatification- crystal tomb.

But its scorching scalpel could

neither shred your shimmering skin

nor stop the rivers woven within

from the time of the first star.

For you recalled the morning

and did not succumb.

Cradling the sun in your arms

you would not, in your stillness,

be held down.

Waiting,

thinking of these icy shadows that

would pass, and you, once more

would walk those paths

greened and warmed ,

uninhibited ,

in flights of light and shade.

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Prince Cinders by Babette Cole

This most be the most ridiculous rewriting of Cinderella ever! Cole rewrites the fairytale by plucking out the female Cinderella and replacing her with ta-daaah…the sensitive male- Prince Cinders! In this tale, Prince Cinders has to contend with three “big hairy brothers”, who- more hirsute than the average silverback- party-hop and tease poor Cinders about his limp biceps and sweet nature. Cole retains the ball motif but throws in plenty of curve-balls: a confused fairy, a princess dressed in sequined pants and a pair of tight trousers.

We laughed so hard our tummies ached !This version is pure anarchy, expelling weeping- damsel and macho -hero stereoptypes. We hope to get our hands on more of her books like ‘Princess Smartypants” and the Dr Dog books. The children haven’t viewed the video of the book yet. You can view it via the link below, but nothing beats the book which has Cole’s handprints all over it.

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Dd4 managed to write her name this week, after months of practice doing capital letters. After she’d finished the 6 letters of her name, she looked up and beamed. Our living room had never been brighter.

This is the choice I make.
To
spread sun and
fields over tiled roofs,
crumple
glass panes into
dandelions,
unfold plumes and
strengthen roots,

trace eternity in
tiny wet footprints.

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Joy (dd8) took part in the Creative Writing Course that I taught during the school hols. One of the writing assignments included responding to a prompt :

“It was the brightest day in August. The sun was a golden orb that was about to set and the late evening breezes swept me along the forest path. My map, compass, laptop and food supplies were tucked tightly in my bag. They weighed like twenty rocks but my heart was light. I was sure I was going to find the fake coins today.
Ahead of me was a clump of trees, arching like guards at the doors of the Deep Forest. I went ahead with the dying sunshine behind my back.”

Joy continued the rest of the story and came up with , what I thought was a first rate adventure. (As you read this, remember that no alterations were made to her ideas and corrections were confined to grammar.)

” I knew I had had to find that relic. But I also felt a cold, sweaty fear, even thought my German shepherd, Toby, was with me. The reason I was afraid was because the whole, forest seemed to come alive. The trees ‘ arms crawled towards me. I was terrified.
I could see silhouettes of the tress looming towards me. I could hear the sound of squirrels, mice and rats scuffling. I could feel the dried branches cracking under my feet. And I could also taste the wet drizzle on my tongue. My dog, Toby, was also getting tense. The hairs on his neck stood up. Tension was piling up. I as afraid we were lost. It was too dark to see my compass.
I walked closer to where I thought was the way out. Then I saw a cave. There was a stone outside the cave. On the stone as carved the name, Chee Weng Giap. I was relieved. We were not lost.
As I went into the cave, I saw the sharp spikes and deep holes. “WE had better be careful here, Toby,” I told my dog. As we carefully entered the cave, I smelt the pungency of the rats’ urine and dung. I could hear the deep groaning of the rats which had fallen into the holes. I grabbed the wall where I almost fell into the hole. The walls felt rough. I tasted the dripping from the leaking ceiling.
I could not find anything . Then, I saw a small wooden, chest. I went over and I lifted the lid. And I saw the gold coins.. Fake, they were, but very beautiful. They were a glittering gold, but they did not have rust at all. They smelt old, but when I touched them. They were smooth.
Then I put the relic in my backpack. Just as I was about to leave the room, the ceiling began to crumble. The walls fell down all around me. Toby started to pull me. “Harder, harder, “ I cried to Toby. He pulled and I pushed. Then, at last, we made it out of the cave! I was overjoyed. But the relic, was it safe? I checked. Good, it was.
Then I went home at last to rest. Toby and I were safe. And the relic was safe too. I was so glad. I had found the lost treasure.”

She, along with the rest of her classmates, wrote this unaided. I collected their compositions, checked them and conferred with the children as to how they could work on their writing skills. I’ll be putting up a website/blog of the children’s work later on.

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I spent most of last week scribbling down ideas and putting together lesson plans. I also overdosed on preserved guava and Nescafe (decaff), not to mention chocolate cream cakes and Bulla’s Neapolitan ice-cream. These were part of the preparation for what would happen the week after. I was a knight training for battle, or a princess hatching an escape from a maleficent sorcerer into the deserts of the Eastern Mountains. I was going to teach for four mornings in a row for the first time in years. I had to be ready and armed.

As it turned out, I had the time of my life and so did the kids. I had not expected them to be so eager and vibrant. A bright lot they were, pencils in hand , eyes alight with mischief and fresh enthusiasm. Together, they ploughed through new concepts such as metaphors and personification. They yanked verbs out of boring sentences and replaced them with words that rollicked, roiled and breathed. They played games and went wild in the spacious yard where the classes were held. They composed and painted.

What a piece of sky! I am brimming with gratefulness for the gift given, and the gift shared.

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