Parting is all we know of hell* Heaven the delightful linger of the touch of love’s spell. --- For the Day 19 prompt at NaPoWriMo; not quite a formal landay but this will have to do :) *Paraphrased from Emily Dickinson’s My life closed twice before its close (96)
With these two feet I begin This journey, of probing and inquiry A thousand miles stretched taut Like a string. Losing itself in the Distance between here and there A road untraversed separating This beginning - hallowed ground And that distant pleasure dome. One cannot escape the lure Of mystery dived head first into, The call of the unknown, enthralling, Siren-like, borne on the wind like Pollen from a flower to its receptacles; A birth,new beginning from wanton waste. ...
If you came in late Naiman’s banned from Hearthstone- Attempted to judge this lady in Ten tailored jogging pants. Fold up the paper map You should get lost This May you can get A lot of writing done – This has been cobbled together from tweets by @BillSimmons, @DailyDot, @DamiOyedele, @Esquire, @NYTimes and @BLoreWriters in response to the Day 17 NaPoWriMo prompt to write a “social media”-style poem, quoting from friends’ texts, tweets, FB status updates, twitter accounts, and blogposts, and the back of the cereal box on your breakfast table.
Sometimes a thing is just a thing with no stakes* And the ardour of a mid summer’s night kiss just a fling, A memory lingering long after the act like shimmer of dusk on a lake. Sometimes the moment is all there is to everything, A gift to savour, like the sparkling stones a river brings To its delta, ground round by their unseen journey. When the hoops begin to multiply, and everything becomes a drudge Does it mean the dream has begun to fade, and that our scars and secrets are in the light? ...
Sometimes silence is the song a caged bird sings, the fading echo the flailing of a broken wing leaves, as it creaks beneath the weight of life’s hammer blows. Sometimes silence is the shrill scream rushing air makes as it leaves a pierced balloon as it runs amok in its death throes before nestling limp like a wet sock and disappearing. Sometimes pain will break you and the linger of unrequited memory will haunt you, seared as it were in the very fabric of your mind’s skin. ...
A conversation… c. 2009, stumbled upon. I once had serious game you know.. It seems you’ve still got it man. 3 conundrums? Nah… It’s all seeped off, all that is left now are the dregs. The dregs? Explain! The jaded bottom of the game jar, festering with settled solids. It may be the most potent, no? That would be the strongest, I can imagine. Maybe, but its not available in copious quantities. It has to be miserly dispensed to prevent extreme intoxication. Better for the gamee, no? Maybe, but bad for the gamer. It severely limits the gamer’s options. Options confuse. Pick and choose which gameee u want and then systematically feed her your most potent game. all or nothing. That my dear is a high stake game…works on paper – not necessarily in real life though. Hmmm… In life should you game as many people as you can? Maybe not. Perhaps one should only game the one we think we’ve found, a contradiction in terms maybe? Exactly! So no need to have loads of watery game. I can tell you it doesn’t always work. Hmmmmm. In theory, boy meets girl, he’s interested, asks her out, not hangs in there interminably for the emotional satisfaction whilst offering no commitment. But sometimes you lose, no? Yup - most times I suspect, u lose sometimes. But it’s the ‘ultimate good’ scenario – cos there’s minimal collateral damage. when its all done and dusted – dude takes the risk of asking and losing if required. leaving her wanting more is a risky strategy, in my opinion. yup.. the truly nice guy doesn;t work that way.. if he’s in, he asks, if he’s not he defines the context of their connection and they move on if required…its not even a nice question, I think. That is a Man. yup.. i think so.. that is what a Man and a Woman do…but a boy would play and a girl i think we play along. very true. so….if a gamee wants a Woman and he himself is a Man, then no need to waste time and protect against collateral damage that is my opinion but then again easy does it yeah.. its often easier to just go with the flow.. sometimes I think that women actually want a gamer who does that. who goes with the flow? or who plays with them?. I dont like obscure, undefined, fluid, grey, nonsensical relationships. but then why buy the cow if the milk is free. Hehehehe. which is why i think the staying celibate thing makes sense – never mind what the bible says. it is a waste of MY valuable time. lol… true. and a waste of my valuable LOVING abilties and oh how can u compare women to cows? its called a metaphor – not a simile, however abstruse. I dont like ur analogy. its not a comparison of their structures.. but a comparison of their producing ability. maybe i should have used a tree then. why buy a mango tree when u can get the fruit free. its still offensive…. because the only thing a cow produces is milk., and u are saying the only worth of a woman is what she produces u should want the cow just the cow. But the metaphor is saying the only thing u value from the cow is her milk. u are missing my point.. real dude wants the cow and the milk. raz dude wants the milk only ...
Does it pop and fizz, And crackle like a log flame Entrancing the mind? Does it arrive like Dawn, sweep away the dark night Promise a new start? Does it intoxicate Like the aroma of sweet wine, Bringing delirious Joy? Or is it there in the Quietness of steady habits Neither loud nor brash? Oh that some sage could tell.
Spice - lemon and herb, sun-dried. Chicken - half, skin crisp. Taste - Bliss, in a bowl. --- For the Day 12 Prompt at NaPoWriMo… Was always going to be about my favourite meal, and table 11. :)
[Image Source] You try to hide your fear behind a veneer of strength, try to put up a facade of calm but beyond the outer strength is the odd tear that slips, unguarded. You stand bewildered at the fork of the road. Left? Right? Blending into an instructable sameness, certainly uncertain of where your Redemption Days lie. To the confused, every coincidence is an omen, the whisper of God rustling the leaves one way, or another, but what if like lemmings one must jump? ...
John Sargent, A Dinner Table at Night (1884) Source A t first you ask to talk, but B urning deep within is the burden of words, a C acophony of voices in your head, D riving despair like a stake into wetted E arth, a haze that settles in and just won’t shift. You F ind a time and place to have the talk, you G o with the flow, tell it like it is, whilst H e squirms beneath the weight of I nnocence lost, guilt like a pall of smoke drifting in. He J okes about not meaning IT, but there is a K nowing that transcends the clarification of intent, that L ooms larger than any image words alone can paint; ...