If All the World Were…

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But some tales are silent." I held her hand as she died. I will never forget its softness, and its small, small size - wizened by wrinkles and experience. Then we go to a marvellous illustration of an imagination full of all of Granddad’s stories and ideas. And there’s so many great moments undercut by lyrical tomfoolery! “As the world of the living peers / out into the world of the dead” makes you stop, is it out or in to, is it going both ways (this is the answer)... The poems are so bound to the central idea and the moment the photograph captured, an escape from reality frozen in time, an eternal escape but also a rendering of a dead past, an image of heaven, a transcendence,

Too often though, I didn't really see much of the game being reflected in the poems or get any sense of why specific elements of the game were important to the author. Having a poem dedicated to each level just seems to push the concept too far. From my own experience, particular games really do summon up strong memories and emotions from the time when I originally played them, but that doesn't mean that every single level holds a rich vein of meaning. At first I was like this is not how I remember Yoshi’s House...but as it went on, invoking Super Mario World made all the poems have an extra edge and a real landscape. I forced myself to stay up to finish them all because it felt like both something I couldn’t put down and some of its power lies in being completed in one sitting. Like finishing a game when I had a full day to play it, it’s like a condescending version of that. While reading this book images of my loving grandparents came to mind, they might be long-gone but never forgotten. I could relate to the little girl in the story. The book is very colorful with kid’s imagination. I loved the way child poured out her sadness through a memory in a book preserving them for forever. It was great idea to help kids to cope with the loss of their loved ones. Lines like “to suffer suffer everywhere and not a moment stop to think” make me stop reading mid-poem. Idk if it’s because they seem desperate to reach for something deep, or because they read like they were written in 5 seconds and not touched by an editor. “I will have missed you for so long I will have / missed you” is so painfully earnest it just rings false. It isn’t convincing. And I think it knows it isn’t convincing, isn’t fully communicating the depth of the author’s grief, and so it overcompensates, but this only makes its incredibility further amplified.Over time, Crowther predicts that we would see the release of 450 gigatonnes of carbon into the atmosphere – more than doubling the amount that humans have already contributed. For a while, this effect would be offset by smaller plants and grasses. But while smaller plants capture carbon at a faster rate than trees, they also release it more rapidly. Eventually – perhaps over a few decades – these plants would no longer be able to head off the coming warming. “The timeline depends on where you are, since decomposition is much faster in the tropics than the Arctic,” D’Odorico says. “But once carbon dioxide is in the atmosphere, it doesn’t matter if it’s coming from here or from there.”

If all the world were deep space, I’d orbit my granddad like the moon and our laughs would be shooting stars.”IF ALL THE SEA WERE INK. AKA - " If the sea were ink." AKA and see " Ah! Where Is the Vow?," " Lay His Sword By His Side." Irish, Air (4/4 time). C Major (Walker): G Major/E Minor (O'Neill): E Flat Major/Mixoldyian (Holden, Stanford/Petrie). Standard tuning (fiddle). One part (Stanford/Petrie, Walker): AAB (Holden, O'Neill). The title is a companion to Playford's " If All the World Were Paper." Together the rhyme constitutes the first verse of a comic poem appearing in John Mennes and James Smith's Facetiae, published in or after 1658: A touching and sensitive text that doesn’t dwell on the sadness. There are some lovely lines that are really memorable: ‘If all the world were springtime, I would replant my grandad’s birthdays so that he would never get old.’ The bright colours and wonderfully painterly illustrations are also lively and vivid. Apart from one rough pantoum (“Choco-Ghost House”), I didn’t notice any other forms being used. This is free verse; internally unpunctuated, it has a run-on feel. While I do think readers are likely to get more out of the poems if they have some familiarity with Super Mario World and/or are gamers themselves, this is a striking book that examines bereavement in a new way. I love the concept of this book and it sometimes lives up to its premise, but overall it fell a bit short for me. The poet weaves together his childhood experiences of playing Super Mario World with those of dealing with his mother's illness and eventual death. When the book works, you can real feel how the imagery of the game is bleeding into reality and the reality is influencing the child's understanding of the game.