Catullus for Children by Anna Jackson

By Anna Jackson

Caught among the 2 towns of Hamilton and Wellington, poet Anna Jackson returns to her favorite subject matters of family lifestyles, her young ones and the Russian poet she loves in Catullus for kids. within the first a part of Catullus for kids, Anna Jackson adapts a few of Catullus's well-known verse to the playground, sharply noting the obsessions and the preoccupations of her youngsters in poems with titles like 'War' and 'Party'. 'The Treehouse' is another number of poems on kin lifestyles: affectionate, amused and wistful. In 'The Happiness of Poets', the Russians speak and sing and play video games with phrases, and at last in 'Stow Stay', the family members strikes south, packs up and will get prepared for a brand new lifestyles, 'every step an arrival'. The poems in Catullus are choked with tenderness and enjoyment within the kid's international, yet additionally they recommend worry and nervousness at its fragility and an information that kids quickly develop up and tackle the burdens of maturity.

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Sample text

The wind blows so hard The wind blows so hard I am frightened Elvira will be blown off the rocks, into the sea, like a bit of dandelion fluff. The family hardly seems solid enough. I follow Elvira off the rocks onto the stones on the shore, and she tells me which stretches are safe, which are in the power of witches. We hold onto paper-thin leaves for protection. She is lying face down She is lying face down under water as still as glass, not moving a muscle, till I pull her through into the wind and at once she is screaming and thrashing in my arms.

Love’s boat has shattered against the frou-frou of the everyday, we are both washed down the gutter, I won’t be suing her, I’m hosed. 4. It is past one o’clock. She must have gone to bed. The milky way spills across the sky like a daisy chain. I’m in no hurry. One one one one: I’ll pick them off. There’s no point in waking her with telegrams, the incident, as they say, is closed. I won’t be suing her, drawing up a list of sorrows and pain — Look! See how the sky holds onto the stars: you’d almost think you could address history, and the future would be listening.

We are all of us horses, to some extent! Horse? Perhaps it didn’t think it needed a nurse horse nurse horse nurse, perhaps my thought seemed trite to the horse, at any rate, up it got with a jerk, and a flick of its tail, and cheerfully returned sto ste sto ste and stood in its stall, and all the time it felt like a colt, and that life was worth living, and work worth while. Vladimir Mayakovsky’s five-rayed hands 1. She loves me? She loves me not? I wring my hands and scatter my fingers one one one one as I pull them off.

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