Derby #255: Double-Take Derby 17
+557

The Writer

The Writer
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rasabi


quality posts: 23 Private Messages rasabi
Re: The Writer


As this was for the poetry derby, here is the poem that it was based off:

The Writer by Richard Wilbur

In her room at the prow of the house
Where light breaks, and the windows are tossed with linden,
My daughter is writing a story.

I pause in the stairwell, hearing
From her shut door a commotion of typewriter-keys
Like a chain hauled over a gunwale.

Young as she is, the stuff
Of her life is a great cargo, and some of it heavy:
I wish her a lucky passage.

But now it is she who pauses,
As if to reject my thought and its easy figure.
A stillness greatens, in which

The whole house seems to be thinking,
And then she is at it again with a bunched clamor
Of strokes, and again is silent.

I remember the dazed starling
Which was trapped in that very room, two years ago;
How we stole in, lifted a sash

And retreated, not to affright it;
And how for a helpless hour, through the crack of the door,
We watched the sleek, wild, dark

And iridescent creature
Batter against the brilliance, drop like a glove
To the hard floor, or the desk-top,

And wait then, humped and bloody,
For the wits to try it again; and how our spirits
Rose when, suddenly sure,

It lifted off from a chair-back,
Beating a smooth course for the right window
And clearing the sill of the world.

It is always a matter, my darling,
Of life or death, as I had forgotten. I wish
What I wished you before, but harder.

gingembre


quality posts: 0 Private Messages gingembre
Re: The Writer


Even without the poem, this is such a great illustration of the struggle of writing. I love it!

jayne5


quality posts: 0 Private Messages jayne5
You are really good. Thanks for sharing your talent.

rasabi wrote:As this was for the poetry derby, here is the poem that it was based off:

The Writer by Richard Wilbur

In her room at the prow of the house
Where light breaks, and the windows are tossed with linden,
My daughter is writing a story.

I pause in the stairwell, hearing
From her shut door a commotion of typewriter-keys
Like a chain hauled over a gunwale.

Young as she is, the stuff
Of her life is a great cargo, and some of it heavy:
I wish her a lucky passage.

But now it is she who pauses,
As if to reject my thought and its easy figure.
A stillness greatens, in which

The whole house seems to be thinking,
And then she is at it again with a bunched clamor
Of strokes, and again is silent.

I remember the dazed starling
Which was trapped in that very room, two years ago;
How we stole in, lifted a sash

And retreated, not to affright it;
And how for a helpless hour, through the crack of the door,
We watched the sleek, wild, dark

And iridescent creature
Batter against the brilliance, drop like a glove
To the hard floor, or the desk-top,

And wait then, humped and bloody,
For the wits to try it again; and how our spirits
Rose when, suddenly sure,

It lifted off from a chair-back,
Beating a smooth course for the right window
And clearing the sill of the world.

It is always a matter, my darling,
Of life or death, as I had forgotten. I wish
What I wished you before, but harder.

talebones


quality posts: 0 Private Messages talebones

I was bummed this didn't get on a shirt last time. Here's hoping this time it does. Love it.

rasabi wrote:As this was for the poetry derby, here is the poem that it was based off:

The Writer by Richard Wilbur

In her room at the prow of the house
Where light breaks, and the windows are tossed with linden,
My daughter is writing a story.

I pause in the stairwell, hearing
From her shut door a commotion of typewriter-keys
Like a chain hauled over a gunwale.

Young as she is, the stuff
Of her life is a great cargo, and some of it heavy:
I wish her a lucky passage.

But now it is she who pauses,
As if to reject my thought and its easy figure.
A stillness greatens, in which

The whole house seems to be thinking,
And then she is at it again with a bunched clamor
Of strokes, and again is silent.

I remember the dazed starling
Which was trapped in that very room, two years ago;
How we stole in, lifted a sash

And retreated, not to affright it;
And how for a helpless hour, through the crack of the door,
We watched the sleek, wild, dark

And iridescent creature
Batter against the brilliance, drop like a glove
To the hard floor, or the desk-top,

And wait then, humped and bloody,
For the wits to try it again; and how our spirits
Rose when, suddenly sure,

It lifted off from a chair-back,
Beating a smooth course for the right window
And clearing the sill of the world.

It is always a matter, my darling,
Of life or death, as I had forgotten. I wish
What I wished you before, but harder.

iteshura


quality posts: 0 Private Messages iteshura
gingembre wrote:Even without the poem, this is such a great illustration of the struggle of writing. I love it!


Yes!
I really hope this wins. I've wanted it since the poetry derby!

sgmitter


quality posts: 0 Private Messages sgmitter
Re: The Writer


Yes!! It's fogging! Get there The Writer! Get there!

autsey


quality posts: 0 Private Messages autsey
Re: The Writer


I love this shirt. I would buy it as a shirt and or even a poster print to give to all my NaNoWriMo friends. I hope it wins!

cadaugette1s


quality posts: 0 Private Messages cadaugette1s

I love this shirt!

expo01


quality posts: 10 Private Messages expo01
Re: The Writer




Amazing work! +1

tjost


quality posts: 25 Private Messages tjost
Re: The Writer


This is really nice. I must have been out of town for the poetry derby because I don't remember this or any of the other ones that didnt print :S

aithon


quality posts: 0 Private Messages aithon
Re: The Writer


love it. when can i buy?

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