How to Join Member's Area Private Library Search Today's Topics p Login
Main Forums Discussion Tech Talk Mature Content Archives
   Nav Win
 Main Forums
 Passions in Prose
 The Music Box
 1
Follow us on Facebook

 Moderated by: Christopher, Dusk Treader   (Admins )

 
User Options
Format for Better Printing EMail to a Friend Create a Greeting Card with this Poem
Admin Print Send ECard
Passions in Poetry

The Music Box (Part 4)

 Post A Reply Post New Topic   Go to the Next Oldest/Previous Topic Return to Topic Page Go to the Next Newest Topic 
Bluesy Socrateaser
Member
since 11-07-2002
Posts 384
In The Mirror


0 posted 02-18-2014 05:45 PM       View Profile for Bluesy Socrateaser   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to Submit your Poem to Passions  View IP for Bluesy Socrateaser

As the sun rose up over the ridge, its rays pierced through the window panes bathing my face.  A warm refreshment after the night Ďchoresí.  On the table, the music box was closed and my ballerina at rest.  I couldnít help but wonder of my good fortune to come upon it. I entertained the thought for a brief moment that I hadnít found it at all, that it had found me.  What I did know was that it made me feel at ease, comfortable and assured. Still, I didnít quite know why.

Persuading the old pick-up to fire, I went into town for a few things. I didnít particularly care for the trip as most folksí paid little mind to me. My money was spent in much the way theirs was though, so the merchants always had a paid-for smile about them. Youíd think I was the only one responsible for the population decline or something.

The lead mines created a boom fifty or sixty years back, but once they tapped out, most of the miners and their broods left the area and never looked back. Some of the rowdy out of work miners along with a few gandy dancers that ran out of track to lay, took to looting on their way out of town. Their thievery spilled onto a few farms as well. I remember my father dealing with them from time to time. Daddy was a powerful man of few words and he used them to shoo me into the house. When he returned, there wasnít a single encroacher in sight. Just Daddy coming up the porch steps cinching his leather bag.

It was near noon when I returned. After unloading my supplies, I headed up to the house for a bite and maybe a toast to whatever remains of the day. Good rye whisky with a roll of smoke was a luxury for a man like me. To add to my ritual now was the sweet tone of the music box and the dancer that put such unusual ideas in my head.  With a few twists, the box opened and my ballerina rose to the occasion. As I listened and stared, I imagined her eyes glowing a soft green as her arms moved fluidly in patterns that seemed to be conveying an esoteric message. Her body rising up on her toes and then down again as the music became more full and ambient. Soon, I didnít know the difference between not being able to move or not wanting to, as I continued to stare at her dance until once again the music slowed and my ballerina tucked herself in as the lid closed.

Afterwards, I felt compelled to make a call. There was a real estate fellow that had been making inquiries. Iíd almost forgotten about him until just now. Such a fancy pants sort of fellow he was. Perhaps Iíd have him look the place over after all.  

Never hurts to have someone look.



...just bein' Bluesy
© Copyright 2014 Max Stout - All Rights Reserved
springtao
Junior Member
since 03-04-2014
Posts 23


1 posted 03-18-2014 04:46 PM       View Profile for springtao   Email springtao   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for springtao

A very fun read great job poet it draws you in !
 
 Post A Reply Post New Topic   Go to the Next Oldest/Previous Topic Return to Topic Page Go to the Next Newest Topic 
All times are ET (US) Top
  User Options
>> Main Forums >> Passions in Prose >> The Music Box Format for Better Printing EMail to a Friend Create a Greeting Card with this Poem
Print Send ECard

 

pipTalk Home Page | Main Poetry Forums

How to Join | Member's Area / Help | Private Library | Search | Contact Us | Today's Topics | Login
Discussion | Tech Talk | Archives | Sanctuary



© Passions in Poetry and netpoets.com 1998-2014
All Poetry and Prose is copyrighted by the individual authors