Queneau is recognized as first having extended the sestina method to numbers other than 6—to 2, to 3 and 5, to 9 and to 11 and beyond. Sara realized that method was but one tribe of a family of methods that exclude no numbers—such as 4 and 7 and 8—and that open up new mutations for even the old orders—like for 12 and for 6. What made Sara’s blogging great to me is that she showed me things I know I would never have seen on my own, but that I can’t stop seeing now.
Go back far enough in our bloodlines and we’ll find we’re all related, distant cousins no matter where we came from. Sara saw rhymes the same way, some words being as close as she was to her own brother, other so far apart they could not understand each other without translation, but all one family, all one blood. Did any verse form’s rhyme scheme seem to restrict her choice for the end word of her next line to a number of words she could count on one hand? She wondered if even the freest unrhymed poem had any less restrictive a choice if it were holding true to its vision. What made Sara’s blogging great to me is that she showed me any word could be expected and meant without losing its creative freedom.
My lit class reintroduced me to verse forms that had felt dusty and creaky in my high school memories, yet the emphasis still remained on technical rules without exploring why some images speak better through a villanelle than in a sonnet. Like trying to dress an aging woman in a young girl’s dress. Sara was comfortable with verse forms I never knew existed and fit into each one like each had been custom-sewn for her. What made Sara’s blogging great to me is that she showed me how form isn’t artificial, how it speaks even in what some might think to be formless.
Some deride metaphor as dishonest, as trying to hide meaning, as foolish. Sara was obviously far from the first to demonstrate metaphor as revealing rather than concealing, but her metaphors were the first that made that jump for me. What made Sara’s blogging great to me is that she showed me that our world has not lost the meanings that drive the language of poetry, metaphor.
When we meet a new friend through our blogs, how often do we take the time to read each and every blog post the other has made, all the way back to the beginning? And how often do we go back like through a favorite poetry book and read the old blog posts again and again and again? What made Sara’s blogging great to me is that she made me want to do that for hers, kissing her back for having done so with mine right off.
Sara had to re-learn everything from scratch. And it showed in her writing, the same way the poems of a blind poet have a different beauty to them. What made Sara’s blogging great to me is that she showed me that one can lose all her words without losing herself. That does something special to each word I’ve used since first meeting her through her blog.
We recently shared a prompt about what word we might prohibit. Sara was against any and all censorship, yet felt even stronger against spreading lies or saying any word meant to hurt any other person. No excuses. And felt such pain whenever she had done so, and took responsibility for doing so. What made Sara’s blogging great to me is that she showed me grace and love through her writing.
What made Sara’s blogging great to me is that she never tried to be anything special. She simply enjoyed writing.
What made Sara’s blogging great to me is that she makes me want to write. Every time I read back through what she had time to share, I come away with my muse babbling so much in my head that I can hardly hear myself think.