Divorce Bard's Blog

...Iambic pentameter is for the ear. Read it out loud.

Divorce Bard

Divorce Bard
Location
pretty how town, USA
Birthday
February 13
Bio
While the ashes of marriage #2 were cooling, I began a journal here in verse, to keep myself out of trouble. So far so good, and one day at a time. I took a hiatus this past January, and I missed it terribly. Writing daily had changed the way I think - not my opinions, but the process of thinking itself. So here I am back again, and hungry. I began with three rules: (1) Iambic pentameter, (2) Perfect rhyme, and (3) It had to be true (no hyperbole). I hereby amend rule number 3: If I'm writing about myself, yes, it has to be true. But it doesn't, if I want to tell a story.

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MARCH 23, 2010 12:08AM

Une belle journee. Monday Mar 22, 2010

Rate: 3 Flag

From time to time I have a small success,
That lets me hold my head above the mess
That I could be convinced my life's become.
(Well not exactly I.  But you know.  Some.)

Last night I went to eat in Montreal.
I wasn't in a groove for French at all.
I couldn't understand the waiter's greeting.
The only thing I had in mind was eating.
And so I switched to English, which was tough,
Because the waiter barely spoke enough.
I tried a couple phrases here and there,
But he was clearly rattled.  He would stare,
And mumble something, then return to working.
And I was just relieved he wasn't smirking.
I paid and then I walked to my hotel,
Afraid a taxi wouldn't go as well.

This morning, feeling just a trifle down,
I visited a client here in town.
I tried a little French while signing in.
The concierge responded with a grin,
And complimented me on how I spoke
(Completely ignorant that I was broke!)
So I explained that having been divorced
(The first time, not the second) I was forced
To occupy my time, and French became
A great escape from sorting out the blame.
The concierge responded with a smile:
He'd done the same with German for a while.

I took the elevator feeling stronger,
And hammered at my French a little longer,
Indulging everywhere in pleasant greeting,
Till I discovered I was in a meeting
Where I would be presenting, all alone,
To someone who was not an anglophone.

The tiny little thing that made my day?
I did it.
There.
One fear has gone away.

 

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I like this. Between your poem and Fuson's bread recipe, I am about ready to hop a train to Montreal. R.
"From time to time I have a small success,
That lets me hold my head above the mess
That I could be convinced my life's become.
(Well not exactly I. But you know. Some.)"

I smiled at the beginning and that really drew me in, and the end especially:

"The tiny little thing that made my day?
I did it.
There.
One fear has gone away."

This was fun, funny, honest, sad sometimes, and pure.... and poetry which I can actully understand! I really loved it Bard. Thank-you. You deserve more attention. I wish I could rate twice.
Hi there Patty - It really is a nice city, but honestly, you may want to wait till the weather improves.

Hi Y Heron - Thank you for enjoying it, and for your sentiments (especially that part about wanting to rate it twice). And I have gotten just a trifle more attention by you happening along.