No one has learned to Sylviane to write this way.
But they did not know what she wanted. So confused, they did what they wanted. And that was what she wanted: they follow their own lines of force.
And these forces still exist by the fact of the immemorial transmission of genes, the mythologies of the family and the accumulation of incidents and childhood accidents that cause each is a being of instinct. Students felt vaguely that something had changed, they subodoraient that in this class, it could possibly be, at least, a space of freedom where we would be entitled to leave on its strengths!
How believe it and engage in it if it is only gradually by a kind of bidding successive daring of the group and thanks to the large home that is the centerpiece to any production. Meanwhile, the writing is another area of ??potential. There are other recipes in the fact that to say what one wants to say, as we want to say, using if you want forms that are in the air.
We can play rocking, to sing, to enchant, to dance rhythms internally next … or break them at will if they feel the need. But these forms, it is not necessarily the door itself from his writing. However, it may happen that we can recognize in passing if someone took care previously to report their existence. In one class, the main informant forms, it is the master. It does not instill them with exercises. then fall into the oxymoron of grammatization poetry.
Just maybe he read the texts somehow. But before we go there, I want to report an experiment in a C.M.1 by Michele Le Guillou, a teacher of Finistere. Eager to explore the creativity of her students, she told them, “Look, I made a folder: every time you write a poem, you give me and I’ll stick inside” But while, until then, in his classes, two or three students were interested in poetry, that year, they were twenty-five (twenty-five) to write what they called poetry. (Library Search of Labor and Research-BTR – “1000 poems in a year” CEL). (See also “free … free text” Editions 0dilon-89100 Nailly) This experience is particularly interesting because it s’ is more to highlight the particular production of a child who lives in a middle artist but that of children of the working class.
And we see that all-comers in life can also access on one level to the same enjoyments words. The following two years, that teacher took this idea of ??engager folder, and that’s what won us the surprising “What have they done the drawing? “The ICEM Publishing just published. This brochure B.T.R. is instructive.
Thus, contrary to the idea that made them children, if the rhyme is not enough for a text to be homework pay
poetic, the fact of going to either line. Here, for example, the text “The words” The course of history the river the playground is the short neck punch the color green glass when drinking in the direction the worm, the beast Libyan, country read well: Mayor mother, mother sea, ocean complexion, figure thyme plant’s aunt family tent where shelters the duck, the bird cane to walk.
Michel D. Difficult to smell any perfume here. By cons, here is another class, a free text written in one go and that we could have proposed to set quatrain: “You do not know Rosette, the bird of the blue sky and returned alive dazzling , singing, dancing, among the violets “(Sylviane – CE2) what to do, faced with this spontaneous text is a tribute to an admired girl? No one has learned to Sylviane to write this way.
Although a family very down to earth, so it was the love of these images and the sounds in it. It does not rely on reactive forces in an apprenticeship, a fashion, a spirit of the times, but its vital forces, effusive. There is of course a way to read these lines with some respect, but we could even, perhaps, to indulge in singing.
But back to work Michele Le Guillou. This is also the way of reading the alliteration can be highlighted in “c” and “g” (Jason); the regular succession of verbs (Coralie); anger if not hate (Johan) and regular scansion of the sentence of Elise. (He scansion – regular – the Phra – ze Elise!) The shellfish are cajole the strike Plougasnou And the wind carries the waves gently on the coast. Algae and rollers are the children of the sea. Jason. The sea.
It swings raced If cast on a rock and again Upon arrival she lies not proceed further and the sand settles But another wave successor. Coralie Sea Sea I crack you between my jaws Winter Sea, come see me at my bed that I caress you with my iron fists to break you whistle Sea my faithful rock you uncheck a hoof blow For you draw back into your shell territory Johan salt water is jealous because we admire the sand falls on the desert She tries every day to make it more beautiful for it as it looks But it is the sand will always win because of the sun Elise There, mistress could have offered: “But it will be the sand” to meet the beautiful harmony of the whole.
But it would have been vitiating experience. Same thing if she had talked about that long to Aragon. “You found me like a pebble that is gathered on the beach as a bizarre lost item which no one can say the use of algae as a sextant than failed to land the tide As the window a fog just waiting to come in … “The unfinished Novel. However, amounts of other texts that B.T.R. offer nothing special to underline.
Although … Through my eyes I saw my grass meadow smiling at me. The whole trees made me sad signs of friendship. The ivy hung in my eyes full of Latin. When the sky grew dark, the wind was blowing.
So herbs retreated into themselves. And some of them opened their faces to cool off. Gaelle My life is an open flower I like my hills behind I buried my anger grain which served more I prepared everything to go away Especially a tray for my tears My life is an open flower But my flower will wither.
Yanne one second expressions One would also stop “pass the time laughing the day is night” “The night is sitting in his bed mourning” “He began his career of hard life” “My heart is one filled with tree leaves “” It is a kind of thoughts “” grief Sea crying constantly “There is still more or less in the sector” poetry – meaning harmony and sound. ” But where are we with the following text: Song When a bull, a bull comes to earth on earth is a sign of sun When a calf, a heifer comes to earth on earth is a sign of rain C ‘may be just the opposite. Julie Going walk to work I saw my ears a shrub three meters I heard through my nostrils The glory cry of an animal conquered I ran slowly toward him Handing my arms folded open Yvan words that pass by the head table is black as the sun looking coffee smoke tobacco calculating the dictionary on the table specifications Sylvie planchee I think the meeting Francoise box pencil sucks the tail of the gray-green handkerchief cat settles on the stairs in Paris I eat the thief the board grows to bed the stubborn white ash blue doll light curtains plays the chat too short castle I’ll wait vest …
Chloe My shoe, I, can I, can not catch J ‘I, I’m afraid, afraid of slipping stairs My funny black sock My funny shoe I can, can, i, i, imagine my shoe, she, her, me, pinched me Me, me sings shoe Claire Yes My thoughts sheet I will go 5 times Oh! Quickly come flute Oh! So it annoys me like Oh! it’s pretty Yes, just now Surely You there Yes, he sleeps ever say then is surprised Eat It All is good anyway Talk A bull Hey!
Oh! she is beautiful hanger is better naked Do not pat the horse Ouch He gets up it’s over You said What? This is normal in your bed Have Yes, Of Course This Gwen So where are we now? Are we not crossed the line? Which terminal?
There are terminals? To do what ? Why should we complicate life, look at whether or not one is on the right side of the fence? Why should confine poetry in frames while by His desenchainements she surprises us? Personally, I stopped very early break my head about it by declaring unilaterally and definitively that poetry was “free speech.” What a relief for me and how open to all, what freedom, what serenity!
So I may now answer the question of the teaching of poetry: “Can poetry be taught, without bleeding, no bleeding, no sign, no favorites, no sound, no sonnet, starling, starling, etoumelle, rotates flange, swallow as a suspended moment, waiting for what comes next, what is trying to say, who wants to sneak into the interstices of syllables appear in the foreground? That’s it, my poor old you were too serious. ” And that leads on what my fantasy: I wanted first, as I often do, fun to let slip the words to know what unexpected fish I was going back to the end of the line.