fandomhigh | How To Be Civilized, Friday, Period 3

"Every young Radchaai is expected to write poetry," Seivarden said, standing in front of the class. "The result is of course endless amounts of bad poems being sent to friends and family, possibly becoming an embarrassment years later. Only a few have the talent or learn to develop the skill ot actually write something good, of course."

She looked at the students.

"Understanding and appreciating poetry, even if your own writings are terrible, is fundamental to being civilized. That's why you're going to write a poem today, as long or as short as you like, read it to the class and then be prepared to discuss it. Apparently this planet has a lot of different poetic forms that you can try, or you could use something from your home. It can be as long or as short as you like."

She paused. "No, actually, not as long as you like, a maximum of two pages. It should be directed towards someone you care about."

"Pens and paper are over here, unless you've brought your own," Seivarden said. "Same with gloves." She glanced at Mae. "Please help yourself to some tea."

[~~Wait for OCD~~ OCD is up]

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Nina's poem was going to take her basically all of class.

Not because she was having problems writing it, oh no, but because of that terrible two page limit!

Every now and then she cast wounded and betrayed glances at Seivarden before going back to her masterpiece.

And, actually, after spending most of the class working on her real poem and realizing that a) it was never going to fit into two pages and that b) she didn't really want her classmates to read it in the first place, it was personal, Nina resorted to… a different method.

(Shush. She was still sick.)

'Her' poem was quite good, if she said so herself:

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Letters are cheerful,
And so are you.

Orchids are white,
Ghost ones are rare,
Clouds are dark,
And so is your hair.

Magnolia grows,
With buds like eggs,
Powder is pie,
And so are your legs.

Sunflowers reach,
Up to the skies,
Days are warm,
And so are your eyes.

Foxgloves in hedges,
Surround the farms,
Your haven is safe,
And so are your arms.

Daisies are pretty,
Daffies have style,
Your moonlight is illuminating,
And so is your smile.

A leather-bound book is beautiful,
Just like you.

The truly amazing thing was that she managed to read all of that, dramatically, but perfectly (Nina's poem had many, many flaws but her enunciation and diction were not two of them) and a soulful look upon her face, without even the vaguest hint of laughter.

Then, finished, she started coughing again.

Because at that point it was either laugh or cough and her cold won.

Mae, on the other hand, lost her entire shit at "Powder is pie/And so are your legs".

She was, in fact, devoting an entire page of her journal to that line as Nina read the rest.

"That wasn't too bad," Seivarden said. "Some unexpected metaphors there. Do you like writing?"

"I love it," she said, not quite sure how to feel about her tragically terrible poem being praised when it had been randomly generated but not going to argue with it. "I, like, basically wrote a novel for my class!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

It was a terrible, tragic novel—in a good way this time. But she was putting her class through it.

"And, like, I work on other stories too…………."

That no one was ever going to see. No one needed her ~~fanfic~~ stories about people she knew.

"A novel?"

Seivarden was glad she had set that two page limit.

How To Be Civilized, Friday, Period 3

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class