Posts
strings of time buried
deep in the underground mural
appeared kempt for thousands of years
stirred by warring voices
it dilated and broke into two separate entities
colorful vinegar and particles
simultaneously exhumed from their pores
as they swam to shore
catching any breath they can reached
Friday 5: string, mural, kempt, dilated, vinegar
Stirred
Sunlight
hesitation, a life force
waiting with careless rumors
echo unanswered in my lonely heart
can I not bury my face in a dream
teetering precariously
on the edge of a storm
weathering my unwanted emotions
sunshine hides inside dark rain
waiting for the moment to escape
to drop from the sky
come daylight, as if the stars did not exist
my lonely heart cries out to you
can I not seek your arms to keep me safe
where you reveal hues
like sunlight upon my clouded face
but you don't know me
yet
For Patchwork Poetry. Thanks to these poets for letting me borrow their lines: Lirone, Mariacristina, Paisley, Gautami and Writerwoman.
Tuesday Night
Read Part 1 here.
Sean knew it was coming. The scent was so strong, so vivid that that he can almost see it in his mind - the white lights of thunder, the splashing of the pouring rain coming down like sheets of amber. He can hear people rushing about, one last mad dash for dry shelter, their shoes echoing on the hard pavement. Shouts and giggles follow each step.
Sean stood in the middle of the sidewalk, black umbrella in hand, cane at his side. He listen to the sounds of the heavy rain, each droplet a musical note to savor. Twenty past eight, with the dark streets emptying themselves, the rain keeps falling harder and harder. His lips curve in a permanent smile. He loves these noisy nights. He can hear and feel everything around him.
-----------
Aurora, one of the poor souls running for shelter, didn't see it coming. It seem to be one of those nights where things that would go wrong, went wrong. After work, she had received another rejection letter, this time the comments were more precise - unpersonal, no vivid imagination, not polish enough, not something we want to publish.
Of cause, when she told her father during dinner, he again, wondered why she even tried at all. Her failures, he would always point out but her victories always get ignored.
Aurora's apology for her failures signal yet another outburst from her father. Why don't you give it up, he said, it's not like you can be a writer. Aurora restrained the tears that started to form in her eyes. She can see the distant clouds from her side of the table, behind her father's head. The sky have not settled into night yet but the light rain drizzled down like diamonds. Aurora considered agreeing with her father but kept silent. She didn't want her father's unsubtle remarks to keep her down but the bitter taste of her father's words stayed in her mouth, trapping her doubts and anxiety in a tiny cage.
The dinner went quickly as her father wanted to spend more time with his new baby girl. He drove off without much of a goodbye, leaving her in the rain, shaking in her own disapproval.
She search in her bag for her umbrella but then remember she had left it on her kitchen table along with her rejection letter. She run towards the bus stop but couldn't find her Metrocard. She search and search but couldn't find it. Her bag, a complete mess as paper notes scatter onto the pavement. She pull and pick them up but the wind took them away.
She slip on one of the paper, skinning her hands and knees. Streaks of tears present themselves down her cheeks as she lay there staring at the ground. Her sorrow felt like a big truck upon her body as the rain continue to cover her from head to toe.
Suddenly she felt a pair of gentle hands around her waist pulling her up. Her eyes follow them as they slowly slip off her. She turn to see him, a bright face in an otherwise dark night. His eyes sparkle somehow in the yellow street lights. He pulls out an umbrella, open it and hold it out, shading the rain from her. She feels numb but takes the umbrella. Did she scream or cry out loud, is that why he's here? She doesn't remember.
Then he pull a cane out and starts walking away. Aurora wants to follow but her feet would not move. Umbrella in hand, she stood there letting the rain pour away her emotions all around her. She stare at the falling rain, following it down to the ground, down the holes of the sewer.
-----------
Sean keeps his head high as he walk home. He hope she doesn't catch a cold with all that rain falling on her. He wish he could do more but he knows she's better left alone for a while. He can hear her silently crying, the rain falling still. He heads home hoping he will see her again.
Read Part 3 here.
3WW words are Apology, Consider, Distant.
The one arm poet
left damaged
sheltered by a thin sheet of pure luck
floating in the land of a conglomerated mess
he laid in bits and pieces
voices shouted out question without answers
obscured view of faces rushed pass his eyes
blinded now and then by an ever present white light
he spoke but no sound escaped his lips
his body heavy as a anvil
motionless
unbridled laughters filled his head
but he didn't know why
doctors and nurses leave his side
taking the noise with them
left with only the sound of a thin heartbeat
he entered a strange dream
wandering around in a dark room
seeing only his own reflection
hearing nothing but his own voices
bouncing off each other
sounds of crashing cars against flesh
echoing all around him
his eyes ungrudgingly open
his right arm
visible upon the white sheets
the other
completely covered in bandages
he felt no pain
but wished he could
days skipped ahead
ignoring what's laying next to him
fleeting images of his former self
left him with tragicomical thoughts
his vibrant mind started flowing
in the air he wrote his first poem
lush words of syllables and letters
dazed and morbidly sappy
he sleeps and dreams of writing haikus
Time
did time move and spill
even when I am standing utterly still
should I kick and curse
make a sigh and a verse
is this life or is it another drill?
For Mad Kane's Limerick and Haiku Prompt
Shared Destiny
Artwork by Mariposa Viajera
I recreate our song
night upon nights
on the shores of our youth
the lonely moon as my constant companion
the cold wind guides you to me
lurking in your fading existent
your breath invisible upon my shoulders
our thoughts travel between time
sharing the same temperamental heart
but breathing disjoined air
will time keep you here with me
or will it snatch you back to your earlier fate
back to the lonely halls of the netherworld
will our fate languish as the nights shift to day
or will we meet again in our shared destiny
wish upon the glistening moon
our yearnings for unity
Read other Monday Mural at Poefusion.
Inked Lyrics
click on image for larger view
rings of tears cover
letters smeared in abstract blue hue
your love can still be trace
in your inked lyrics
a parting gift from your heart
from across the ocean
For One Deep Breath and Message in a Bottle
7 Random Facts
I'm going tag-crazy today. Here's another one I found from JHS, a fellow She Who Blogs.
Here's my list:
01. I don't like the beach - somehow the sand and sun don't appeal to me
02. I sometimes skip paragraphs when I read a book, mostly if the book is boring
03. I'm not a night person or a day person - I like the in-between time
04. I could not find humor in the tv series, The Office, I guess I just don't get it
05. I'm a slow reader - it sometimes takes me couples of month to read just one book - that's probably why I do number #2
06. Meeting new people makes me nervous
07. Talking on the phone makes me nervous, pretty much just talking makes me nervous, I don't really like my voice, it's kind of childish sounding
Page 123
Qualcosa di Bello at Piacere tag me for this after I've done this. So I'm going to do another with a different book. Here's the text:
An equally good rule is that if something is broken you shouldn't try to fix it either. That's what trained professionals with vans are for. In the past, fixing big things required lathes, blow torches and angle grinders. These days we have glue.
From the Never hit a jellyfish with a spade: How to survive life's smaller challenges by Guy Browning from the chapter title: How to fix things. (I added a fourth sentence as it make more sense.) It's quite a hilarious book. I'm not going to tag anyone but anyone reading this can tag themselves.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I saw this on Keith's Ramblings.
The rules: Pick up the nearest book of 123 pages or more. (No cheating!)
Find Page 123 then dismiss the first 5 sentences. Post the next 3 sentences. Tag 5 people. I'm not going to tag anyone but anyone can tag themselves.
The bleeding stopped after a day and the pain stopped after a week. They buried Domingo and for the first time and last time Inigo left Arabella. His face bandaged, he rode in Yeste's carriage to Madrid, where he lived in Yeste's house, obeyed Yeste's commands.
From The Princess Bride by William Goldman.
Starry Night
a starry night you set in motion
by your stars and your moon
glows of light scatter among yellow roses
gentle wind of summer play
love me tender
dreaming in your paper sky
your lips found mine
your loving arms around me
fingers running all over my back
your kisses glide towards the back of my neck
you pull a paper dove from behind me
I realize then where your passion lies...origami
Sunday Scribblings
Second Chance
Fourteen days in a state of unconsciousness should have caused him to retreated into himself but instead it did the opposite.
It was like being reborn, new to the world. All things forgotten as he plunged into the freezing water. He kept his eyes closed as his sank deep into the cold blue. Down below, he opened his eyes, staring up at the swirling water and the reflection of his curvy face. The dark bottom of the sea flickering with bits of sunlight. He lifted his head out of the water and stared up at the cloudless blue sky.
This was the second chance that he was looking for. The water had helped drown out his sorrow. Every couple of days, he would swim in this vast ocean. Everyday, things get a little easier to handle. Everyday, those bad memories leave him, bit by bit.
The motion of his body against the currents, the silent moments in the water, had kept his mind moving calmly. Over the horizon, he saw the city, the place of his birth, glowing in the sunlight. His lips curved into a smile. Either the water had gotten warm or his body had gotten used to it. Either way, he was in complete bliss at the moment.
The freezing temperature had dipped below zero. But that didn't stop him. This was what he needed. He stared across the water at his grandparents swimming happily next to each other. He waved at them and gestured he was getting out of the water. They waved back.
He wrapped a towel around his body, not cold at all. It was the second week that he swam in the cold ocean but he still had not gotten use to the idea yet. His grandparents understood his skepticism but didn't pressed on. They were right even if some thought it was foolish for them to be doing this at their age. Their happy faces told him this was right, not at all foolish.
How he had wished he had joined them earlier. He knew he was too wrapped up in himself to even noticed how much he meant to them. But now he wanted to make it up to them. After his fiancee had called off their wedding, he had gotten drunk, jumped into his Ferrari. The doctors told him he was lucky. Not many people can survive such a terrible accident. His grandparents had been there all the way. Even when he struck his anger at them, they've never given up on him.
That was five months ago, the long scar down his left leg remained as as a reminder of his reckless behavior. He didn't think there was anything that would help him get through it but here was out in the cold in his happy-face trunk.
He smiled, knowing his life will be better, happier. He helped his grandparents out of the water, armed with towels. He gave his grandmother a kiss on the cheek. This was for her 80th birthday, a gift from him. It was just the three of them, swimming in the ocean. He made sure they have a lifeguard, just in case. Back at his house, the three of them chattered effortlessly about the swim. The sparkles in their eyes told him, they were what he needed.
Visit the Writers Island.
Black Dress
inflicted by his blunt comment
she blew her hair from her face
scudded away like a hammer without a handle
her agitation bursting to the brim
overflowing over the margin
and into the crevices of his forgotten words
he watched with a grin on his face
as her black dress swayed like a crow
a white stain shifting left and right
Friday 5: inflicted, agitation, scud, crow, margin
Tuesday Morning
He can feel her breath soft against his back, a steady rhythm of gentle wind kisses. Her song whisper quietly in his ear. Her voice gliding from syllable to syllable, word to word. Each sound following each other like permanent companions on a long journey. Her voice fades as morning comes, unwillingly.
Sean awakes to sounds of someone else's voice - his new neighbor, singing in the shower again. He can hear the water running in unison with her voice. Always a different song but always the smooth, delicate vocal. These thin apartment walls had always drove him crazy but this he didn't mind. He would wake up early in the morning just to hear her sing. Usually on week day mornings and sometimes late at night when the neighborhood seem to be in utter silence.
Sean pulls on a t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans, slowly, so he could hear the last part of the song. His lips set in a smile but when she finished the song, he sighed. Another day to begin again. He feel so restless, so tire of all these day to day minute activities. He wish he could just stay in bed listening to song after song. It wouldn't have matter who was singing.
It was his mother's song that cured his insomnia but now without her around, he couldn't help but sing her song to himself. Though he could never sleep the same way again, he still dream of her voice. The absent-minded part of him could not always remember all the words only this line: We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year.
He could have punch himself for forgetting the words but after almost fifteen years, what little bit he remember, he would cherish. He finally found where the song had came from just a few weeks ago when he had to go through her belongings. It was in one of her journal, filled with her day to day writings, almost all the pages had his name on it. He had his half-sister, Cassidy, read them to him. The song was something she had written for him after he was born. He was a restless baby, never seem to be able to sleep until she started singing to him. Though he had never quite understood why her voice was so comforting, he always knew it would never fade from his memory.
At his kitchen table, Sean slowly eats his cold cornflakes, each bite a long pause for his thoughts to reveal themselves. At the last bite, he hesitate, as his neighbors' voice ring through the air. He sit still, listening to her humming but they soon fade away follow by the sound of her front door closing with her keys jingling. One of these days he's going to unravel the mystery that is his neighbor. He will, he promised himself.
His phone rang but he just let it be. He can hear the clouds forming in the sky. He walk towards the window to listen for their incoming sound. He can always smell the rain before it begins to fall. It was one of his talent - the only one he knew he was not ashamed to admit. His mother was so proud when she found out. Being the only parent to him, she was not content to let him just be any ordinary kid. Whenever he felt stupid or whenever he found his many faults to be too much, she would comfort him with a song and an occasional chocolate cookie fresh from the oven.
Sean put his coat on, then fumble in the hall closet until he felt the smooth wood of his faithful companion. He had a habit of throwing it in the closet each day he came home. It was not intentional at first but after a while the habit formed. Sean reach for the umbrella from the hanger next to the front door, tuck it under his arm and pulls his door tightly shut and lock up. He walk the dark hallway and out of the apartment building. The noisy sounds of cars and voices doesn't diminish his thoughts of being outside. He breathe in the cool air, then place his glasses on, and park his cane in front of him, ready for another day even if he didn't feel it would go well.
Read Part 2 here.
For 3WW with the words: Punch, T-shirt, Unravel. Also for Fiction Friday: Insert this song lyric into your fiction: 'We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year.'
Sleeping while dreaming
night covers the sky in darkness
sleep to dream of immortality
playing alone in the wilderness
release from the realm of reality
flying with borrow wings to this place
soaring above the world
feel the cool wind tickling my face
catch a falling star in a whirl
following a steep path of dreams
I falter down to the ground
I rise up to bubbles and steams
my face falls to a frown
why are dreams so hard to grasp?
maybe I should stop finishing my wine glass?
Sunday Scribblings: Sleep
Bad Job
one meeting of few words, that was all
later no answers to my phone calls
ignored like a plague
why are they so vague
this job's nothing I want to recall
For Limerick and Haiku Prompt
I won't remember to forget you
I won't remember to forget you
I won't seek your face in the clouds
or catch your shadows on the dark streets
I won't miss you even when I'd never met you
I won't draw your face in the wind
or fall into your dreams
I won't shelter your thoughts in my head
I won't wake up to memories of your voice
or listen to messages on your machine
I won't carry your heart in mine
I won't forget to remember you
Monday Poetry Train
The Cure
Every day she would try a new search but everyday, nothing new to add to her discontent. All those sites and blogs she searches through seem to fume her loneliness and demises more of her self worth. In her mind, the long-absented companion cease to exist. Rushing toward bleak conclusions, she plunders her wreath of being. Oh, there were hopes here and there, but in the end, all of them would lose their flame, their excitement, smothering down to boredom and hurtful regrets. Still she stay in pursuit of the never-ending cure: happiness.
Read the part 1 here.
Ode to Socks
just one pair can be so irresistible
wore day or night, here or there
they're so easily adjustable
they rarely lose their flair
knitted or woven, long or short
cotton, silk, no matter the material
mix and match to any outfit even shorts
they're nothing if not versatile
sure, they get lost sometimes
in the machine, underneath piles of clothes
finding them takes a lot of time
but oh so lovely when they do show
how nice they fit my feet, what salvation
who can resist this extraordinary invention
For Pensieve's Poetic License ~ February
Rain
his lips travels upon her skin
his embrace foreign to her touch
daylight dust filters through the window
his touch cools as night falls
in the darkness she open her eyes
a small dent on an empty space next to her
no wailing heard through the walls
only an arithmetic sound of rain falling
she opens her window
her view skew by splashes of rain
its cool touches descend on her skin
settling like teardrops hiding her solitude
For Friday 5.
Dream Days at the Hotel Existence
I always have my head up in the clouds chasing after memories that I cannot follow. But what I don't remember stays with me, following me everywhere I go around this strange hotel as I struggle to invade the living. I only exist partially here in this world as I have no real body. I don't remember when or how I got here. All I know is that I had been here and now is still here.
Sometimes I dream I was lost and running from some unknown black shadow that keeps chasing me, forever in a loop of discontinuation. I can never see the shadow but I know it's behind me as I run from room to room looking for refuge. I can feel its eagerness coming closer and closer. Just as it was about to touch me, my eyes will then suddenly open and I would feel cold and strange, unsure of where I am or what I am.
Now and then some guy would bring his girlfriend here for some afternoon delight. And why not? The furniture are all intact though covered in cobwebs and dust. In their haste, they may glimpse an image of me in a dusty old mirror or some shiny object. The guy would jump in fright and run off with his pants in his hand, leaving his girlfriend by herself. She would leave feeling more angry than fearful. I don't mean to frighten them but they scare me more than I did them.
There were many nights my true love and I stood at the window wishing on the same moon in these large hotel rooms. Our secret rendezvouses were the sweetest days of my life. But the images are cloudy now, their details hidden behind some dark curtains. The look on her face, the feel of her body against mine - all gone from my thoughts. The more I try to remember, the more it drives me mad. But one thing I could never forget was her name - Serena. She used to sign her name with the "S" in long curves shaped like a woman's body. I am here waiting here for her. I don't know if she's ever coming back but I do know I am not leaving here without her. I wander the halls like a lost child, searching for her, hoping to see her face once more.
Here in this abandon hotel, I am alone among the ghosts that sticks close to the peeling wallpapers and keeps me as their unwanted companion. The daylight hours lingers on, lasting longer than usual. Whenever I see the shadows on the wall beginning to drop to the floor, I know night has come to seek my nightmares and daydreams.
Who really cares if I existed anyway? Nobody sees me. I am slightly out of sync with the rest of the world - surviving on what little memories I can rob from my own, fractured mind. I have a long way to go before I can leave this place. Each day I would open my eyes and find myself still here, still forgetting. The hidden black tears shed themselves without my consent. They drip down my invisible cheeks singing a ballad of a dead man. I'm constantly drifting further away from the real world, each time I feel less and less like me.
I would go down by the dam sometimes and stare at the still water and dream of Serena. I can still taste bits of her sweet presence here and there. Remembering one moment and forgetting the next - my mind see-saw from one image to the next but never seem to settle at any one place. If only I can hold on to these memories like capturing home movies that I can watch, moment by moment, frame by frame of the life that I had forgotten. There were times when I thought I could leave this place but I fear I will forever be haunting these empty hallways, passing other leftover dwellers - waiting. I shudder to think of what had gone on in the past and what will continue even now as I wait for the end that might never come. I imagine it to be a terrible moment in time where my existence is of no importance to anyone.
For Three Word Wednesday.
I'm always looking for new ways to dictate my writing so here I am trying something new. I randomly pick an album with a title that I like from the Wiki pages and use the track listening in the story. The titles are from an album called,"Dream Days at the Hotel Existence" by Australian rock band Powderfinger. I'm not familiar with this band but I really like the album title. The titles are highlight in blue.
Favorite Line
softly we met with a kiss
words she read in a poem
written by the one she dreams with
the letters constantly stringing themselves together in her mind
like a siren song from the distance wind
carrying its tune into her reveries
eventually engraving into her skin, a tattoo of him
she whisper again the line, her favorite line
written by the one she dreams with
softly we met with a kiss
For Monday Mural
One Moment
walking through the cold rain
pass store windows and city lights
I daydream about you
raindrops hides your face from me
for just a moment, just one
For One Deep Breath
No Vision
I thought I saw a vision
as bright as the sun
glowing with dramatic flare
as my eyes adapted I saw nothing was there
not even my own self
Monday Poetry Train
Best Friend
She was surprised by a distance whalesong, a sound so haunting yet so mesmerizing that it caused her to jumped in fright, falling into the river. He looked up to see her head just barely out of the water. As he ran towards her, he slipped on the aged earth but got back up on his feet in time to see her golden coat moving along down the river. The fluidity of a gray spot flashed before her eyes as she tried to stayed afloat, breathing in pieces of air whenever she managed to keep her head above the water. He waited for the right moment before jumping in, pulling her up before she can sink to the bottom. They moved like a pair of synchronized swimmers towards dry land with his arm around his furry, best friend.
This is for Friday 5.
Memories
memories travel
running fast at departure
slow on arrival
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
she had lost all desire to prose and rhyme
her poetry were absolutely sublime
did they disappear
along with her fear
that her memories were erased from time to time
For Limerick and Haiku Prompt
Unlucky
soft skin breaking off in flakes
brown and white
revealing pink pigment underneath
sensitive and new
aching through and through
hiding anger inside these thin walls
useless and meek
drowning my fragile mind in nothingness
dazed and empty
slipping through and through
left arm throbbing now and then
temperamental and weak
pain magnify by movements
tender and breakable
damaging through and through
gently easing back into the living
tired and down
seeking sleep in the dark of night
jumpy and moody
awake through and through
tumbling along this wrinkled path
unlucky and spent
time no longer in its place
slow and unchanged
waiting through and through
For Cafe Writing - Option Three
Hollow Gloom
slow motions covered in doubt
hiding what's waiting all this time
the dried-up lines of time
spinning endlessly
with all your regrets and pain
trapped in this hollow shell of gloom
blossoming no more
Lazy Monday Thoughts
two cold bagel halves without cream cheese
is this someone else's breakfast?
light drips of snow settling on my shoulder
are they just raindrops from my misty eyes?
a false move tumbling down the sidewalk
could I have avoid hurting myself less by standing in front of a speeding train?
same three missed calls, two minutes apart
were they in such a hurry that they forgot they had call the first two times?
too much dole down the drain for my non-existence car
how did they know about my non-existence car?
sitting at my desk staring at a blank screen
should I change my desktop to blue instead of yellow as blue has a calming effect and yellow will probably keep me awake?
writing this post, shying away from work
isn't that what Mondays are for?
a mass of useless, jumble words and scramble letters
are these my thoughts or have I gone mad and not know it?
Monday Poetry Train
Pieces of You
you
made of soft substance
fell so hard
but landed so subtlety
upon my heart
you
reached deep inside me
to find the chaos
the messy parts of my myself
believing it to be grand
you
loved without a thought
leaving your heart to be crushed
into million bits of confetti
falling like teardrops from heaven
you
jumped at the chance to be free
running as far as you can
blocking out the pain
that burned into your insides
you
sought new words to defined yourself
taking only the ones that suited you
writing them down in your notebook
savoring the language of life
you
sang until your lungs froze
words of hope and love
your voice ever so softly
raised above the others
you
rearranged your mind
to fitted into my mine
not before you told me it's alright to fail
in this fight or in this life
you
made yourself whole
in this halfhearted world
fighting the losing battle
with your guts fully exposed
you
slaved all your life in your anguished mind
no control of your body
no control of who you are
finally falling to the end
you
left a large hole in my small heart
no returning to me, you said
you were gone from this world
but not from my thoughts
This is a re-posting for February's Write-Away Contest.
Smile
It took all his strength not to stick his tongue out at her. She stood there, camera in hand, still fumbling with all the buttons. He kept a forced smile on his face, waiting.
At last she was ready to take the shot. He smiled for real. He saw the flash that almost blinded him. But he relaxed, thinking it was over.
But then she said, "One more time, Lewis! I don't think I got it right!" She started to fidget with the camera again. He rolled his eyes in disbelief.
Soon she was ready to take another shot. "Smile!" she shouted.
Lewis didn't feel like smiling. Instead he let his face fell and just stood there, looking angry and bored.
"Smile!" she shouted again, waving her hand around.
Lewis refused to obey and stayed the way he was.
"Lewis!" she shouted, "Please smile. I'm only trying to get it right. You don't want your last photo with your grandpa to be such a downer, do you? Your grandpa's smiling!"
Lewis couldn't believe his mother. Not only did have to stand for so long but to posed next to a wax figure of his dead grandfather. When she told him he was going to meet his grandfather, she didn't exactly give details - such as - he's dead or that his last wish was of a wax figure of himself to be the stand-in for a headstone.
"Lewis!" she shouted, "Smile! Please just this one last time."
Lewis is only twelve but even he thought this was just a bit morbid. He mustered a smile and after the photo was taken, he ran and waited in the car. He heard his mother shouting but ignored her. He couldn't wait to leave this place.
For Write Stuff's Picture This #5.
Magical Dreaming
opening my sleepy eyes to the darkness
a light appear from above
familiar surroundings now gone
my room, now a forest
my ceiling, endless blue sky
my bed, earthly grains
my skin thin as paper, begin to change
from dark tan to light blue to dark brown
light spots appear, scattering themselves into smaller dots
changing shapes as they continue to cover my body whole
leaves appear on my bare arms and hands
my feet attach itself to the ground
blending and sinking deep into the earth
branches, now my arms
leaves, my eyes and fingers
the trunk, my legs
I look up and feel myself growing taller
reaching the december sky
with my arms stretch out
like a bird ready for flight
up and up I go
beyond the clouds
higher and higher
finally stopping just a few inches below the sun
a powerful feeling surge inside of me
bouncing around like separate heartbeats
I bath in the warmth of the sun
clouds begin to cover the sun
encircling me in complete darkness
something is pulling me away
a strange feeling tug at me still
something amiss
something ordinary
my view, suddenly unclear
I open my eyes
back in my room
on the floor next to the bed
tangle up in bed sheets
with pieces of my hair stuck in the edge of a drawer
For Writers Island
Daydreaming
Artificial clouds zooms all around the stage and the entire arena. Her deep voice echoed from a microphone. She exhaled the words to a divine song in front an audience of thousands. Their tiny faces filled with sweet tenderness as they cheered and sang along. As she soothingly sang all the words that she had written when she was young and rebellious, she kept her eyes closed. It was an illusion as she was not herself. She was a bundle of nerves not ten minutes ago. Now on stage, with the music blasting and the fans screaming, she knew she can do this.
She paused in mid-verse, getting ready for a planned stunt. She was to fly above the audience wearing wires and white wings made from artificial fur. She pulled her wings upon her shoulders and arms while two guys in black attached her to a pair of hooks. She was ready.
The crowd was waving wildly and screaming her name. She smiled, staring out at them, she wondered if she was dreaming. She stepped out, close to the edge of the stage and spread her arms, ready to jump off. She glided off the stage and was carried high above the audience. She felt like a bird, flying for the first time. She continued singing sweet words.
She felt a tug on her left side but continued singing. The crowd was even louder as she passed by them. She looked down and knew she was too low. The audience started to grabbed hold of her, pulling at her wings and legs but she smiled and kept on singing. She realized she was going to fall when she heard a snap sound coming from her wings.
She was grabbed by the arm but couldn't free herself. Before she can react, she fell down onto a few people. She rolled onto her side, feeling thousands of eyes upon her. She heard the grasps and pitiful sounds coming all around her. The music was stopped. Her body, limp as she laid there, mortified. She closed her eyes and wish it was a dream.
She opened them to see she was on the floor of the cafe where she worked as a waitress. She had jumped off the counter and fell onto the floor. Her boss, Mel was staring down at her, grinned and then said, "Get back to work." He pulled her up off the floor. The crowd that had gathered went back to their seats. She started to pour coffee in people's cup, avoiding their stares, knowing her face was all red. It was business as usual.
For Fiction Friday: Your character was lost in her own thoughts. When she snaps back to reality, she realizes she was singing out loud. Unfortunately, she wasn't somewhere private. How embarrassing... Take it from there.
Get the Fiction Friday code. About Fiction Friday.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
lissa