Day 17 — reading genes + reading droughts

April 17 is my grandmother’s birthday; she would’ve been 101 today. So I wanted to honour her again by a poem that explores my reading ancestry.

The Poetic Factoid was going to be about the correlation between reading & various genetic traits, until I came across a word in my research & I knew the poem had to be about that.

*****

the genetics of reading

looking back through time
     there’s a definite lineage
          a genetic heritage of literature

my mother’s always been deep
     into crime to which I was a late comer
          her greatest gift to me was green Anne
               the Poldarks surprised me by being 
                    much more than mere bodice 
                         ripping regency romances

— teen me returned the favour by hooking her on fabulous fantasy

mum was clearly given gifts from her mother as both
     delighted in the murders & mysteries of Dame Agatha
          Georgette Heyer & Dorothy L Sayers ; gran even
               read James Bond, Alistair McLean & similar thrillers
                    when younger before migrating to Danielle Steele &
                         almost anything Large Print by the end of her eyes

— wish I could’ve got her opinion on Julia Quinn

grandad was much more factual
     a biographical non-fiction kinda guy
          books on birds & the natural world
               histories  the English language 
                    the bulk of which I inherited 
                         including     naturally  fittingly

— his impressive leather bound editions of poetry 

          it gives me great pleasure sharing 
     these generational reading genes (even if 
my pants are a bit bigger than theirs)

******

Day 17 Factoid — to read or not

A Presbyopian Inspired Drought

the one time in my life 
i’ve read very little 
was for a year or so 
a decade ago when 
every book bored me
when i could not
sit still long enough
to complete a chapter
even a couple of pages
it was aberrant behaviour 
for a life long wyrm 

finally i realised 
the print was blurring
eight to ten inches 
from my eyes — but 
within a month
the magic of specially 
tailored super glass
scientifically ordained
specifically adapted
for my ageing eyes
brought the magic back

Day 06 – poem about THE wonder of the world

text close up

Life can be such a poo the way it gets in the way. The first draft of this pome was finished well before 11am with intentions to tweak later in the day; but work, 2 & 1/2 hours of driving, that pesky niece again (thankfully the essay is due tomorrow, well today now) meant it’s had no chance for revision & is being uploaded a few minutes after my midnight. Ahh well, it’s a solid start that can be worked on later.

cheap paperback wonderland

though the pages are yellow, foxed
though the spine brittle
though the glue cracks
as each page tumbles over
transforming bound book
into loose leaves no matter
how reverentially i turn

despite the damage i inflict
upon this precious relic
long savoured by my mother
as one of her favourite fictions
i am once more lost   this time
in revolutionary cornwall
as the industrial age fires up
weeping at love gone awry
wailing harder when reconciled

every so often wandering astray
at the way words  no matter
the medium  these upright lines
curious curves  intermittent
dots & convoluted squiggles
repeatedly rearrange themselves
into emotional outpourings
that make them the greatest
of all wonders