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Open Poetry #47
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The Puppeteer – [in the attic of reason…Serenity’s challenge]
| Open Poetry #47 |
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The Puppeteer – [in the attic of reason…Serenity’s challenge] |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart 
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 The Puppeteer – [in the attic of reason…Serenity’s challenge] The old man scratched his grizzled beard, awake in the sharp light of day As sunbeams hit his eyes, they seared his memories, dark and gray. His dream from just the night before still resided in his soul’s deep well As if his past knocked at heart’s door, ringing recollection’s bell. He ambled toward his kitchen sink for water, some hot tea to brew But thoughts held his mind, “To think… what I had done to you…” He sat at his table, lonely and still, but his mind ventured, rather erratic, He looked up at the ceiling’s height and thought beyond it to his attic. He shook his gray and troubled head, while dressing, he thought, “tis time, To once again go where I dread,” his actions were that of a mime. He moved then, somewhat jerky at best, steadied the ladder to receive his weight Slowly he ascended into the attic, a test, to see if memories might now abate. He stood there in the dust of dim, pervasive ghosts seemed thick in disgust Motes danced in silent light, as if grim, his actions slowed by dire distrust. Once a year, for his daughter’s sake, he came to this place, his heart to find, For in the attic of reason the puppets ache, as he sought to find truth in time. From a cavernous trunk he brought out a puppet, then a marionette so sweet. Other faces stared, each in silent shout, as one by one, he placed them on a seat. Soon, surrounded by his puppets’ adore, he began manipulating face and limbs Some sat still, some danced the floor on strings, swung and twirled, by silent whim. He soon fell back into his old story, for his tale was as ancient as time Each puppet began acting in glory, swinging to and fro in cadenced rhyme. He played each puppet as before, while invisible children gathered around For time seemed to trip past future’s door, and he was again the gayest of clowns. For he had left his wife and daughter behind to seek his fortune, as a raconteur For philosophy, his keen eye’s mind, could weave much from life, he was so sure. Oh, the stories he could tell, as if he must, to widen young minds, straighten wronged hearts, He would leave behind words so just, as his puppets played a life’s large part. For who would listen to thoughts of one man, when a cast of many he could hide behind As each puppet from his strings might stand, preaching wisdom that came from one mind. His puppets each had a voice so clear, their Master’s thoughts filled each one With philosophies that he held dear, of wrongs to right, oh, he was never done. But time took toll, his steps returned home, though no wife, nor daughter to find For Death, it too, had decided to roam, taking those he loved, but leaving him behind. Now once a year, he comes to lament, in the attic of reason the puppets ache, For his wife and child, the long days spent, and his puppets weep still, at man’s heartbreak. ~*~ 11/30/02 " It matters not this distance now " Excerpt, Yesterday's Love ~*~ KRJ |
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| © Copyright 2011 Karilea Rilling Jungel - All Rights Reserved | |||
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serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
I miss the challenges. When someone responds so beautifully, it makes me feel a part of the process. I remember this one well. Such poise, Kari.  |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Challenges can always be revived, my friend. You always came up with some great ones! |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
This is the beginning of a movie, the movie told through flashback. I see the puppeteer and the pain the puppets caused. Thoroughly enjoyed this, Sunshine. Of course I did, I lean toward dark and lonely poetry. ~ After twelve years of therapy my psychiatrist said something that brought tears to my eyes. He said, "No hablo ingles." ~ |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Jerry...I so enjoyed this response, because this was clearly why I shouldn't be a poet, and just write stories.  But I do enjoy poetry... thank you! |
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Spiros Zafiris Senior Member
since 2002-10-20
Posts 982Canada |
..and to think, i don't usually like too long poems..but i never complain with your poems, Sunshine; they always breeze me melodically right through..and they always, somehow, calm me (almost in a medicinal way)..much enjoyed..spiros --------------- --------------------- |
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