Testing, Part #2 (Fragment #015)

It was like talking to a brick wall. I elevated my voice slightly.

“Hey, four-eyes!”

Yuck. Not only is he blind, he’s deaf too… I was considering poking him with a ruler when I heard a semi-cough right above me. Again.

Any questions, young lady?”

“No, Sir.”

Question 2a: Define a metrical foot used in the following poem.

He had forty-two boxes, all carefully packed,
With his name painted clearly on each:
But, since he omitted to mention the fact,
They were all left behind on the beach.

The loss of his clothes hardly mattered, because
He had seven coats on when he came,
With three pair of boots—but the worst of it was,
He had wholly forgotten his name.

He would answer to “Hi!” or to any loud cry,
Such as “Fry me!” or “Fritter my wig!”
To “What-you-may-call-um!” or “What-was-his-name!”
But especially “Thing-um-a-jig!”

1) Trochee
2) Iamb
3) Anapaest
4) Dactyl

Question 3a: What isn’t a forme fixe?

1) Qasida
2) Glosa
3) Sequence
4) Tanaga

I looked around helplessly. No help was within reach. Well… if plan A doesn’t work out then I have to use plan B. So, I gave a shit about that, and began to select answers at random.

The blank space below question 1a was very much in evidence, and my inner perfectionist demanded satisfaction. I knew it was better not to argue as this thought would be like a pebble in my shoe—it would hinder and annoy. I wrote something like, “Prompt at five o’clock, I busted a snaplock, and walked around town in a candy-striped nightgown.”

Then I hesitated over where an adverb of time should be placed in an English sentence. Damn. At the start? At the end? Without philosophizing, I repeated the first line at the end. If need be, I could say that I was nervous and forgot to cross out the wrong line.

With a feeling of satisfaction at a job well done, I turned in my paper and left the amphitheater. I felt a roaring hunger.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017

Between edges

A road… just two edges and infinity between them. To step on the edge. To diverge from the road. To live, as if you’re immortal, is one edge. To live, as if your death is inevitable, is the other edge.

Edges aren’t the road.

Let yourself be immortal. Walking on the edge. Stepping over the edge. Forget miserable time. Look at yourself without the world. Your every step, your every gesture, your every thought… immortality.

Edges aren’t the road.

Let yourself be mortal. Walking on the edge. Stepping over the edge. Take your final step. Look at the world without you. Without your every step, without your every gesture, without your every thought… mortality.

Edges aren’t the road.

You don’t like edges. They’re dangerous. But if you deny edges… you deny the road. You learnt immortality. You learnt mortality.

You learnt… edges aren’t the road.

A road… just two edges and infinity between them. You go ahead. Infinity is under your feet. You took your road.

A courageous alive creature.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015