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]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Poetically

And ask questions if you have any.

Handwavy poetry is fine.

If she's here

Who is here.

As Seivarden doesn't know any poetry from Earth she won't notice any plagiarizing.

Tisarwat

The TA was there, and she'd been really looking forward to the inevitable poetry class. Not only because she knew her own poetry had improved significantly ever since...she took over her brain, but because she was insanely curious about what sort of poetry these particular classmates would be coming up with.

And wondering if the the 'two page limit' rule had been put in place because of anyone in particular.

Nina Argentum

Should Nina be in class today?

Probably, almost definitely, not. But she'd been so bored and she'd felt a little better and she'd promised herself that she'd go right back to bed after her classes.

Nina was bundled up, looking pale and wan and huddled around her tea today. Even her pink gloves seemed a little wilted.

She perked up at the assignment, but wilted even further at the stipulation that it be only two pages, max…

"No epic poem is ever that short," Nina grumbled, before she started coughing again.

Yes, she covered her mouth. No, she probably, definitely, shouldn't be here ~~but the lure of writing terrible poetry for her had been too hard to resist…~~

The last time Tisarwat had written poetry was mostly out of joking around (mostly) over too much arrack with the friends she'd made back at Athoek Station, so she was actually a little excited to have another stab at it.

Especially now that she had a new subject for her poetry, and she was honestly a little surprised she hadn't thought to write her any so far.

Earth had clearly been skewing her sensibilities.

So, after a bit of thoughtful lip-chewing and more than a few scribbled out lines, Tisarwat felt that she finally had something pretty good. Far from perfect, of course; she would need to work on it a little more before presenting it to its intended audience, but she felt she had a very good start for reciting in class.

And it wasn't bad, really, not really bad at all, especially if you'd ever read any of the poetry Tisarwat wrote back before she shared a brain with the Lord of the Radch. But it was quite a bit heavy on some very admiring themes, such as blue eyes like far-distant planets, husky voices like the comforting rumble of a ship's engine, the strength of things forged in a fire of passion, and what she felt were some very clever plays on the word crumble.

And honestly? Once she finished reading it outloud, she thought it was some of her best poetry to date.

Even if it wasn't her most subtle.

Seivarden was kind enough to make an effort to keep a straight face.

"That was quite good," she said. "I think you manage to convey your feelings for the person in question. Is there any part of it you feel you want to develop further?"

Mae Borowski

Mae reached out with her foot to give Nina's desk a little nudge to get her attention. Then waved her plastic-baggy-covered hands with a little happy snicker.

Her Nina-gloves were tucked away safely in her room. Not wearing proper gloves in this class was now a matter of principle!

Seivarden hadn't given them a minimum requirement. How short could a poem be while still being a poem? Two rhyming words? Four, so you had words that didn't rhyme?

Mae rubbed her chin with her hand. She was wearing plastic sandwich bags this week, held on with plain rubber bands. They made a pleasant, squeaky, rustling noise when she gripped her pencil.

And who should she write about? Maybe Gregg? What rhymed with "crossbow"? Or "knife"!

Mae is not canonically a poet, but her friend Selmers is! She writes beeeeautiful poems:

Autumn winds
Autumn sins.
Autumn times
Autumn crimes.

And then there's "There's no reception in Possum Springs". . . .

"I think," Tisarwat mused, after a moment to consider it, "I might want to develop the themes of strength and steel a bit more. It is important, after all, to consider one's audience in matter of making really good poetry."

Ahem.

"Would you have any suggestions?" she asked, with an oh-so-innocent blink of her lilac eyes.

Seivarden considered commenting on the so-called gloves, but decided against it. Mae had to be doing it on purpose. She sent a few disapproving looks in her direction though.

"Mae?" Seivarden asked. "Have you written anything yet?"

The suggestion Seivarden would have wanted to give was 'do not read this to Amaya', but she didn't want to hurt Tisarwat, and definitely not embarrass her in class.

"Perhaps something about plants?"

Nina looked over and blinked as she processed what Mae was wearing on her hands today.

Then she sank down in her chair, giggling silently and helplessly.

"The creative process cannot be rushed," Mae said, twiddling her pencil and doodling a little spaceship in the margin of her paper.

Oh, I had forgotten the poetry reading! :D

"No?" Seivarden said. "Well, I'm sure your classmates want to hear what you've written. When you've written it."

It was possibly Mae's plastic gloves (which made Nina giggle silently every time she looked in Mae's direction) or it was possibly the fact that she was genuinely irked by that two page limit!

But the spirit of devilry had her saying, "For inspiration could we, like, have a poem you've written, Professor?????????"

Nina had wrestled with that title, not really sure if that was the proper way that Seivarden would want to be addressed but then, like, Seivarden hadn't said, so…

"Or perhaps you'll use this occasion to write one as well??????????????"

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How To Be Civilized, Friday, Period 3

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