I have taught my writing class over Skype and looked up children's writing contests. I have blinked at some of the award-winning poems children are writing these days. The ones I saw were depressed, morbid, obsessed with identity, or lack of class privilege, or lack of perfect bodies. This was the over-eleven division, mind you, and I shouldn't be surprised when teenagers write like adults who think like teenagers.
All the same, I may think twice about recommending that particular contest.
Today is my wedding anniversary, and if I wrote like a prizewinning teenager I would say that the DAY is written across the SKY in
sugared almonds dropping from
like exquisite BULLETS
But I was interrupted in writing this poem by a knock on the door. I answered it and found a vase of pink flowers on the landing and a large, blonde pony-tailed woman retreating down the staircase. Surprise!
So now I have a lovely homemade card from B.A. and a vase of flowers from the nearest florist (the localist touch!), and earlier this week B.A. received a gift certificate for a snazzy New Town restaurant
Sugared almonds are still my favourite symbol of marriage because of the juxtaposition of good and bad, sweet sugar and bitter almond peel, quick energy and sustaining protein. Marriage is a good thing; St. Augustine definitively settled that question. However, it can be tough. Just ask poor B.A. Or rather, don't, because I would be furious--which is unfair, really. La la!
But must leave for now. Back later!