Once there were two sisters—elegant and kind, smart but also (we suspect, we have been told) prone to giggles. One was two years younger than the other. She wrote a poem a day, sometimes two. The older one wrote beautiful poetry, too, and read deeply and wisely, and journeyed far to American Idol concerts and reported back with photos. She made so many friends in the blog universe that only she knew how to keep count.
The older sister, Priya, cherishes her younger sister, cherishes the poems she writes, makes it possible for her write them. She (we read in the preface to Maya Ganesan's Apologies to an Apple) "guards Maya's bike, she runs manuscript pages up the stairs from the printer and sometimes supplies piano accompaniment to our (poetry) lessons."
Not to be outdone, the younger sister, Maya, loves her sister, too—so much so that she has thrown her a surprise blog birthday party, inviting those of us who have grown to love these girls to welcome Priya into her fourteenth year.
Happy Birthday, Priya.
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Blog: Beth Kephart Books (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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Pinkdogwood asked about those watercolored poetry journals of my yesteryear, and so this vlog is for her. (Ironically, given the heat in this house, the video kept changing color as I recorded.)
While searching the too-hot closets for this exhibition A, I found other journals of the not-color-drenched variety. Below is a found poem from an August 2nd, many years ago, when extroverted rhyme still mattered to me in poems.
But before I get to that, there is this: The other day I was reading Maya Ganesan's Apologies to an Apple, a book this lovely eleven-year-old poet had sent to me. Maya's the real thing; she absolutely is. When I look back on what I was writing way back then and look now to what this so intelligent soul writes today—the clear brooked wonder of it, the no-rush-toward-conclusion of it, the simple made large—I see a slice of the future, and the future looks like wisdom unspooled.
This, then, from my own past.
Who shall know this wooden
window box when you are gone?
Shall know it as you do at night,
shall watch, shall wait for pink
to enter through the moon's white light?
Who will care enough to guard
this mottled wall, the mason's hand?
Who will listen and belong
to street sounds, urban moods, to
the swish step skip of jumprope song?
And what will there be when
there cannot be your interludes anymore?
What will stand where two guitars
now balance on the floor?
And what will become of your easle eyes
when at last you shut the door?
Beautiful post! Happy Birthday, Priya!
Happy, happy birthday, Priya. I don't have a sister -- this is lovely glimpse into another world.
Oh my gosh ... I was driving to work this morning thinking about Priya. Truly. And then read this post. Had no idea it was her birthday!
Sisters are such a joy, I'm glad these two love each other so much :) They're both wonderful.
Happy birthday, Priya!
Such sweetness all around.
Happy 14th birthday, Priya.
Thank you, everybody! And thank you so much, Beth! I totally was not expecting this!
Wow ... what talent they have!! Beautiful post and tribute.
What a lovely pair! Happy birthday, Priya...and so much to look forward to!
Happy birthday, Priya! We love you. :)