I'm back with this entry for Velvet Verbosity's 100 Words Challenge. The prompt for this week: faster. And yes this continues the mysterious romance from Treasures (2) and Pillar, so if you haven't read those yet, you might want to go back first and catch up - this will make more sense then. Enjoy! Oh, and if you want to join in check out www.velvetverbosity.com .
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The pace of dissolution increased the longer she sang, and with it the speed of his heartbeat. He felt a pressure from inside as if his heart were trying to escape. Didn’t she know that he had carefully built these walls over years? Each stone a monument of silence, a barrier against pain. Or did it keep the pain in? With that thought it exploded! But each stone followed the sensuous curve of her melody and dropped in orderly rows forming a neatly paved bridge between him and her. She was beautiful! Now his heart beat faster for another reason.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Untitled
How does one put words to something barely understood, something that grasped for in the night slides away, sidles into shadows and melts into the darkness? That grief, wholly internal and almost juvenile, that pulls at happiness, self-esteem, confidence and peace. “No man cries like that” – and no man does. No. It is the sorrow of a child, never comforted, never acknowledged, never healed.
It is the silent wailing in the night. It is the dung that reeks, but is warm and provides a beggar’s comfort. It is the slap, the punch, that burns but signals attention – an arid deluge in a thirsty desert.
It is the wounded soul who curls, fetus like, in the dark place where words cannot reach. It is a god’s agony in a child’s heart in a man’s body. It is the velvet razor.
It cuts, soft and dark and sweet in its familiarity, never letting the wound close. Blood drips like tears. Tears drop like rain; thunderstorm and hurricane and tornado rolled into one.
It is the cry of the forgotten; the never known; the unseen.
Even spattered so, with simile and metaphor, there is only the merest suggestion of shape; invisible; elusive. Perhaps it is mystery which gives it its power. How can one understand something that can’t be put into words?
It is the sacrifice, one for another, the daily cross; death for life, or death into life, it is hard to be sure.
It is tears, petal soft and warm as blood, unchecked, eternal, as deep and salty as the sea.
It is the silent wailing in the night. It is the dung that reeks, but is warm and provides a beggar’s comfort. It is the slap, the punch, that burns but signals attention – an arid deluge in a thirsty desert.
It is the wounded soul who curls, fetus like, in the dark place where words cannot reach. It is a god’s agony in a child’s heart in a man’s body. It is the velvet razor.
It cuts, soft and dark and sweet in its familiarity, never letting the wound close. Blood drips like tears. Tears drop like rain; thunderstorm and hurricane and tornado rolled into one.
It is the cry of the forgotten; the never known; the unseen.
Even spattered so, with simile and metaphor, there is only the merest suggestion of shape; invisible; elusive. Perhaps it is mystery which gives it its power. How can one understand something that can’t be put into words?
It is the sacrifice, one for another, the daily cross; death for life, or death into life, it is hard to be sure.
It is tears, petal soft and warm as blood, unchecked, eternal, as deep and salty as the sea.
Friday, August 15, 2008
I'm Still Here
For those of you who care, I'm still around, just way busy looking for a job and overwhelmed by other stresses, so haven't been doing much blogging or writing. I'm sure I'll get back to it eventually, I just have other priorities at the moment. I am, from time to time, reading some of your blogs and trying to keep up, even if I'm not posting on my blog. TTFN.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Extreme Parenting (Don't try this at home.)
This limmerick is in response to Simply Snicker's poetry prompt at www.simplysnickers.blogspot.com . The prompt for this week is: total, tradition, triumph. I'm sure you're glad I decided not to continue my alliterative adventures. Here you go:
There once was an oral tradition
On the triumph of nuclear fission
You yell and blow up
Then they come like a pup
Tails tucked into total submission.
There once was an oral tradition
On the triumph of nuclear fission
You yell and blow up
Then they come like a pup
Tails tucked into total submission.
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