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Fruit of the Mind - Poet deVine's Challenge
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Fruit of the Mind - Poet deVine's Challenge |
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN 
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Fruit of the Mind The paper burnt my mind with its empty white as another bird, crushed of flight, fell silently amid the other rubbish of the day. The pen scratched out a muddy path across arctic fields and faltered quickly. Final drops of ink leeched into the page, staining a moment to mock my eyes as a capricious flow of thought grew solid and opaque. Cursing, I crumpled the muddy wings of my stillborn thoughts and threw them above the trash and straight into my yard. So much for not letting those words see the light of day. I roused myself from the grip of my seat and stared down at the paper skittering across the sidewalk and down the street. Such life when it left my hands and yet I could summon none of that through sweat and toil. Between myself and the broken dove, laughing children ran down the concrete ribbon, joy flushed on their faces in fiery youth causing the paper to disappear from my sight. Life seemed to be like that, as soon as the flame of something new and young was ignited it disappeared and could not be found again. A heart’s fount could only pulse so much vibrant fluid before it hung dry and desiccated. That was how I felt. I desired the youthful pump through my lined hands but only the empty throb of age echoed there. Above the resonating chambers older tales fluttered like tired pennants from the battlements. I could feel each flag singing its tale to the chattering winds of my mind. I saw an angel descended and in her ivory arms a broken man on azure. Forests blurred one banner, spattered with springs rains and enshrining a lily nymph in hypnotic pirouetting. Each scene, a fragment of the world, channeled through my heart, streaking my cheeks with tears and bubbling in laughter like the fountains of the earth. I could still feel the cool bole against my back, dappled sunlight on my body. The pen a living creature in my fingers, carving images that floated on the leaves above, of a withered man poised on a precipice, a storm lashing him. Of barren snowscapes, torched villages, and towering dragons dancing in the foliage, voices lifted in a hymn of rolling time. My mind whirred and hummed, spinning on itself in a maelstrom of noise until it had drained into resounding silence and a timid tapping. A knocking! Shaking my head of remnants I wear the treads on the stairs, and turn the brass knob to see one of a gang of children, his little red hand upraised. I had no choice but to smile at his startled look and cherubic face, glowing with life. His friends behind him drew back ever so slightly and the spokesperson cast his face down and kicked his feet. Warm hands fled behind his back to unseen shelter. “Hello,” I chimed, “do you need something boys.” The little boy on the step looked up and met my gaze his eyes at first dark, then gleaming and he answered, “No, sir, but this is yours.” “Really now. And what is that?” “Just this,” he said revealing his hands and crinkled paper. “Oh, but this is just trash...” I began, until I turned the paper over. The ink had streaked down the page in swirls and whorls painting spreading oaks, castles, an angel and... “A dragon!” squeaked a little boy hanging back. The others shushed him but I but I looked up and repeated, “Yes, a dragon! Would you boys like to hear about this dragon?” “Yes!” they chirped in unison. “Well, let me get some lemonade for you all, freshly made! And I’ll tell you the story of that dragon, and maybe the tree and that beautiful angel.” As I made my way to the fridge in the house’s cool dark, I was followed by a chorus of questions that sang in hollow stone, tearing down the wall. [This message has been edited by Dusk Treader (01-23-2002 10:12 PM).] |
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| © Copyright 2002 Abrahm Simons - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
Enchanting! I love this Abe. I'm glad the words are flowing again.  |
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Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
interesting analogy at the end! lol - i've wondered (not from any feeling that such is the case) if there ever comes a time when you run out of things to say... it amazes me constantly that, with how few words there are in the language, there are so many different ways to put them together. it's nice to visit this abe and see your talent for imagery spanning into the less physical plane - transposing thoughts and actions, making them nouns, is an affect that i really enjoy - if done well, of course. you did pretty good at that, though i think you might want to seriously consider looking at your punctuation - there are many things that could read better with some commas, dashes, semi-colons, etc. Take the first sentence: quote:Other Options: "The paper burnt my mind with it’s empty white as another bird -crushed of flight - fell silently amid the other rubbish of the day." "The paper burnt my mind with it’s empty white as another bird, crushed of flight, fell silently amid the other rubbish of the day." "The paper burnt my mind with it’s empty white as another bird, crushed of flight, fell silently amid the other rubbish of the day." Just some suggestions. Nice to see the 'evolution of abe' continuing.  Peace C [This message has been edited by Christopher (01-17-2002 03:18 PM).] |
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poetry_kills Senior Member
since 1999-12-04
Posts 549new orleans |
dear dusk treader, superb writing... i truly enjoyed it... your prose reads more poetically than most poetry i've come across... of course, one does not moderate a forum without having some degree of mastery over the subject matter, but your writing extends far and above what i would have expected... i hope to see more during the time i loiter here in the prose forum... sincerely, jerome Do not be deaf to me, for if you are silent I shall go down to the pit like the rest. (Psalm 28) |
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encounter New Member
since 2000-02-02
Posts 4 |
enjoyed the read. the feeling in this story was abundant. i hope to read more of your writings very soon. |
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Alwye
Moderator
Member Elite
since 1999-06-16
Posts 3850In the space between moments |
A writing about writer's block.....only you could manage to do it so well, my dear. Loved the imagery and especially the ending with the kids. Made me smile.  A few of the lines were hard to follow though, especially the one Chris pointed out. Other than that, wonderful writing hon!  *Krista Knutson* |
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fractal007 Senior Member
since 2000-06-01
Posts 1958 |
Dusk Trader: This is magnificant. I feared that I was missing something by promising myself that I would read something of yours, and then never getting round to it! This is absolutely wonderful. It's like some modern form of romanticism and fantasy. Well done indeed. Definitely belongs in the library. "If history is to change, let it change. If the world is to be destroyed, so be it. If my fate is to die, I must simply laugh" |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
I've read this three times...and am glad, times three...and I would read more... |
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amusemi Senior Member
since 2001-12-08
Posts 1262A State of Disarray |
Very well done. Enjoyed. |
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