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May 13~ REED VENRICK

5/13/2026

 
Thanks for stopping by, poetry fans. Today we're shining the spotlight on Reed Venrick, who brings us a two part poem called "Half-Sisters." Thank you, Reed, for sharing your words with SHINE!

Half-Sisters

No, to be honest, there are
Several things I like about
Reading Spanish writing

Over French writing, and
Portuguese as well; I can get
Into that later, since you

Mention it—however, there is
Something I rather like about
French over Spanish, and

Over reading Portuguese
For that matter, and that is:
French keeps the subject

Of the sentence or the clause
In actions and sequence
Discussions; they don’t drop

It out like the way they do
In Spanish, Portuguese, or
Italian, for that matter, which

Is why sometimes when I read
Spanish or Portuguese—some
Article or something online—I get

A bit lost; for that style of writing
Is called a “pro-drop language,”
A curious metaphor to be sure, but

Dropping out the subsequent subject
Makes it harder to understand who
Is doing what to whom; or what

The hell is doing what to whatever;
Of course, I don’t deny it’s my fault
In the sense that—if I knew my verb

Tenses “par coeur” as they say in French
Or “aprender de cor” in Portuguese, *1
If I really knew my tenses like a good

School boy looking to the grade, I would
Identify “from memory” the verb’s subject
I’m puzzling about, but yeah, I’m just

Glad French is courteous to language
Learners and does not drop out subjects,
And, well, English is like that as well.

PART TWO
Because English, it’s like French
In that sense—we also tend to keep
Those sentence subjects when

Speaking in continuous sequence
Or actions, although, frankly, and
I hesitate to admit this, but personally,

I, in speaking English, I do
Sometimes drop my subjects from
Sentences when I’m speaking on

My I-phone—because, well, adding
The subject slows down my rhythm,
See what I’m getting at? So…

Yeah I guess that’s my influence
From Portuguese, because yeah, I
Worked for years over in Brazil,

But frankly, it’s my obsessive desire
To be concise—“You must have spoken
Latin in another life,” my wife laughs,

She says Tacitus is my unacknowledged
Favorite writer—true, he’s word-stingy *2
In a language that was already military-

Frugal with words, but no, as I say, I worked
As a carpenter with the service corps
In the Amazon; there we built island bungalows

Made from bamboo poles and palm fronds;
And, if you think about it, there’s no
Excuse for extra boards or extra nails when

Building bungalows. as well as building sentences,
But yeah, all this is to say, and I want to make
This bell-clear, why I maintain English and

French are “sister languages”—despite
Objections of those “cafe et cigarette”
Doubters in Montemartre, or a cafe I go

To over in the Latin Quarter on “la rive *3
“Gauche,” those who will exclaim in that
Manner…how can I say? “Descartian way”

Of conversing: “Oh no! French is older!
Much older than English! Check out
The timeline!” But as I said in response:

“Have you ever noticed that sometimes
Siblings in the same family can be far
Apart in age? See what I mean? I don’t

See how the “older than thou argument”
Counters my assertion!” And by the way, there
Was an event called the French invasion

Of 1066, and I’ve heard a rumor that
There was a bit of incestuous-word-mixing,
But okay, if you wish, call us “half-sisters,”

Because hey! For the sake of clarity,
Which is the greatest virtue in any language:
We’re both “non-pro-drop languages!” *4


FOOTNOTES:
1. By heart

2. Noted for concision, Tacitus
Often dropped out conjunctions and
Prepositions that would show clarity.
Few careful writers would advocate dropping
Those connecting words that show
The precise relation between clauses,
But if that’s not enough, Tacitus
Is known even for dropping out
Verbs, which will create even more
Confusion in the reader than dropping
Subjects, which is common in romance
Languages—except for French; still,
Tacitus’ brevity is a good contrast to Cicero
Who often wrote overflowing—extending
Sentences with confusing multi clauses,
Multi phrases.

3. The Left Bank

4. Yes, this clumsy phrase actually exists
In linguistics to classify French and English
As those languages that maintain their subjects
In an extended discussion about whatever.
Picture
​Reed Venrick resides near Marseille, France; writes on French themes and things.


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    SHINE - International Poetry Series

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    From the international poetry community, we have a "luxury of stars," as Sylvia Plath might say, and it is SHINE's honor to provide a home for their words with the online Spotlight series as well as SHINE Quarterly. Click on the logo above to learn more. And...keep writing, keep shining!
    In poetry,
    Samantha Terrell, EIC
    SYLVIA PLATH
    Stars Over the Dordogne

    Stars are dropping thick as stones into the twiggy
    Picket of trees whose silhouette is darker
    Than the dark of the sky because it is quite starless.
    The woods are a well. The stars drop silently.
    They seem large, yet they drop, and no gap is visible.
    Nor do they send up fires where they fall
    Or any signal of distress or anxiousness.
    They are eaten immediately by the pines.

    Where I am at home, only the sparsest stars
    Arrive at twilight, and then after some effort.
    And they are wan, dulled by much travelling.
    The smaller and more timid never arrive at all
    But stay, sitting far out, in their own dust.
    They are orphans. I cannot see them. They are lost.
    But tonight they have discovered this river with no trouble,
    They are scrubbed and self-assured as the great planets.

    The Big Dipper is my only familiar.
    I miss Orion and Cassiopeia's Chair. Maybe they are
    Hanging shyly under the studded horizon
    Like a child's too-simple mathematical problem.
    Infinite number seems to be the issue up there.
    Or else they are present, and their disguise so bright
    I am overlooking them by looking too hard.
    Perhaps it is the season that is not right.

    And what if the sky here is no different,
    And it is my eyes that have been sharpening themselves?
    Such a luxury of stars would embarrass me.
    The few I am used to are plain and durable;
    I think they would not wish for this dressy backcloth
    Or much company, or the mildness of the south.
    They are too puritan and solitary for that--
    When one of them falls it leaves a space,

    A sense of absence in its old shining place.
    And where I lie now, back to my own dark star,
    I see those constellations in my head,
    Unwarmed by the sweet air of this peach orchard.
    There is too much ease here; these stars treat me too well.
    On this hill, with its view of lit castles, each swung bell
    Is accounting for its cow. I shut my eyes
    And drink the small night chill like news of home.

    ~~~

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