3:00 Thursday August 30, 2012

I wander the kitchen, bored. Standing on the edge of the step down into the living room, I observe a shaft of sunlight falling from the skylight onto a basket overflowing with notebooks. The ceiling fan whirrs and clicks above me, false wind in contrast to the rustling leaves outside. Through the smudged window I see the branches making dark patterns shifting on the sunny driveway. The fan, the wind and the wind-chimes blend together into one silence. Books and papers clutter the living room table, an incomplete to-do list, Christmas coasters, a red composition book and the laptop computer. I click the lid open to record my rambling thoughts. Behind me a disheveled bookshelf, a mess of wires on the floor to my right. The wireless modem cords make shadows on the sunlight against the white wall. To the left side of the computer screen I can see the branches of the hemlock tree in the front yard waving in the wind against the blue sky. Keys click. Moments are recorded. The last few days of a busy summer. There’s things to do. But for now, I let my thoughts ramble on.

Alix Poetry

A title, finally, a rather obvious one: "A Princess of Hesse: A Novel in Free Verse."
I THINK that's what this type of poetry is called.

7.

The beautiful flowers

Surround us

On the lush grass

The sound of pencils

Scratching on paper

As Ksenia and I sketch.

We talk like we’ve

Known each other

More than a few days.

Ella and Irene approach us

Sit down beside us on

The colourful blanket

Their skirts spread elegantly.

Ella tucks a flower

Behind my ear

I don’t feel so dreadful now

At the prospect of loosing her.

I see Nicholas come towards us

He kneels behind me

Praises my sketch

Teases Ksenia

Calls her a funny nickname.

I try to keep sketching

Not show the strange feeling

I get inside

From him being so close.

Ksenia asks if I have any nicknames.

Grandmamma calls me Sunny sometimes.

Nicholas asks if he can call me that.

It suits you, he says.

I glance warily at Irene

She looks dubious

But Ella is laughing.

No, I don’t mind, I consent

Feeling a funny little thrill

As I say it.

8.

Clinking glasses

Chatter

In languages I can’t understand.

The Tsar at the head of the table

His son at my side.

My cheeks feel hot

I wish I could go outdoors.

I look across the table

At Ella

Laughing with Sergei

Her beautiful eyes sparkling.

I’m going to

Loose her

Companionship

Guidance

Love

In just a few weeks.

To Sergei.

Before tears sting my eyes

In front of everyone,

I block those thoughts

Out of my mind.

I can feel Nicholas’s eyes on me.

I can’t help it

I turn my head.

Instantly

My face becomes

Even more warm

And I look down,

Unable to look him

In the eye.

Inwardly I smile

Forgetting for a moment

That he can’t see it.

But I’m too bashful

To smile to his face.

Yet.

　

　

　

　

More Alix Poetry

Poems 5 and 6 of Part One.

5.

I hug my arms to my chest

Trying to block out

The feelings of something being taken away

Of not being understood

Of being forlorn

Like the motherless little girl

I was, and still am.

Papa worries

Irene reassures

And all I want to do is

Stop the carriage from coming

Prevent it from taking

Ella away.

I don’t want to go

To a foreign country

To watch my

Sister

Mother

Friend

Get married

And stay there forever.

6.

The welcome is

So grand

Ella must feel so honored

And delighted

I feel conflicting emotions

Pride for beautiful Ella

And anger at the Russian people

Welcoming her.

She’s not their Grand Duchess.

She’s my sister.

The Tsar’s daughter

Nine years old

Takes my hand

And pulls me past the fountain

To show me something

In the gardens of their grand palace.

I follow willingly

Glad to have a new friend

And knowing that

Her older brother

Is watching me

Behind us.

Desired Things

Desiderata: Latin, "desired things."

"Desiderata"

-1927 by Max Ehrmann

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater
and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble,
it's a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantement,
it is as perrenial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit
to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

Alix Poetry Continued

Poems 3 and 4 of Part One.

3.

The sun streams into

The linen closet.

I hand Irene a petticoat

And begin folding

My dressing gown.

If only they could just stay there

Everything the same.

I know Irene won’t

Understand

How I feel

Nobody will, I think,

Except maybe my

Brother Ernie, just visiting

From boarding school

And my best friend, Toni,

Far away in another part

Of Germany.

I know I should talk to Ella

About how I feel

Nothing has been the same

Between us

Since February

And now she’s leaving

Tomorrow.

But I want one last moment

With my beloved big sister

Here at home, in Hesse,

Before she leaves

And becomes a

Grand Duchess of Russia.

4.

Ella is right.

There are so many memories

Here in the parlor.

It is where

Vicky told us she was to be married

Where Ernie bumped his head,

Where Toni and I accidentally smashed a statue

Where I learned that Mama died.

I’ve lost so many people in my life,

I tell Ella.

I don’t know if I can bear to loose you too.

Her comforting words

Do a little to keep back the tears,

But as I lean my head

On her shoulder

I realize it’s the last time

I’ll ever feel her arm around me

In this room

When it’s her home.

Irene says she’ll always be

Our Ella.

She’s right

But something

A light

Is going from our home

And I will feel the loss

More than anyone else.

A Prequel to The First Dance

A prequel, (staring five years earlier,) to The First Dance. It doesn't have a title yet, but it's bascially just a bunch of ramble-poems from Alix's perspective.

Part One:

1884

1.

Engaged.

The word rings in my head

Making me dizzy.

Sister

Mother

Friend

She is all of those to me.

I can’t believe it

And I don’t want to.

2.

I balance the teacup

In a ladylike manner

Wishing I could throw it

Against the wall.

Grandmamma,

Ella,

Irene,

They’re all so happy.

But I don’t want to be.

Ella thinks Sergei is so

Wonderful

But I don’t understand

And I don’t want to.



A Rambling Poem

I check this page every day
Think I should post something
But nothing comes to mind
I close the page
Forget about it.
What's the point of
Seeking out something to post
Shouldn't it be from inspiration?
Even this poem
(Not even a proper 'poem'
More of a ramble
But it's my favorite kind of poetry)
Seems like it should have
More to it
But if I write anything
Without being inspired
What's the point of
Writing something
To write it
If it's going to end up
Badly written?