In which a Jewish family from Brooklyn moves to Paris, France for two years of work, school, and adventures.
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F Train to Paris: It's a mommy blog, an expat blog, a Jewish blog--and for today only, it's a poetry blog. My son R. (age 12), better known as a performer than a writer, produced the following poems in English class this week, and his proud mom wants to share them with the world.
A Martian Sends a Letter Home
Sometimes a mixture of colors leak from the world’s seams
Creating a semi circle of joy and luck
But this only happens after the sky cries for the land
Making everything slippery and wet
The beautiful blue skies behind the mass of pillows
When the sky turns a rich shade of black
Stars on the street shine brighter than ever
And all the people run into their boxes
Where they feel safe with their companions
For the time of silence has just begun
A time when you can hear things
That you’ve never heard before
Like the blooming of a flower
And the creaking of the floor
And this my son
Is the time when you can hear much more
Quiet is the time of day
When sounds of rarity come out to play
But on the occasion of someone loud
they’ll quickly run away
Quiet is the time of day
When you can hear the movement of the moon
And the crickets’ lovely tune
But if you’re loud like you and me
They’ll flee
Quiet is the time of day
That’s quite enough
For the clouds to fluff
And the dogs to make their silent “ruff”
But if you make a single sound
They’ll bound
So if you’re smart
You’ll take part
And be like everyone one else
Stay as quiet as a mouse
posted by: pariskleinmans at 12:15 |
link | comments (5) |
