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Open Poetry #23
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The Puppeteer – [in the attic of reason…Serenity’s challenge]
| Open Poetry #23 |
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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. [This message has been edited by Sunshine (11-30-2002 10:43 AM).] |
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| © Copyright 2002 Karilea Rilling Jungel - All Rights Reserved | |||
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VAS Member Rara Avis
since 2000-11-16
Posts 7450Oregon |
Quite a well-done tale. I especially thought these lines powerful: 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 Whether on the shoal or on the shore, |
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Wind
since 2002-10-12
Posts 2981 |
That was really good, but t scared me. I am afraid of puppets (shudders) Never be normal! |
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serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
this...lady... is so full of gems: I loved this: "He stood there in the dust of dim, pervasive ghosts..." swirls of dust and asthma...in fact, in reminded me of my brother! "To once again go where I dread,” all of this is great tonation-- and this? is your "bridge"-- "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." I chose that one because it is the explanation of your metaphor...you put a LOT of thought into this Kari! I do applaud you, and thank you much for playing along with the challenge. Looks like it brought you to an epopee...(izzat how sy spellzit?) I'll be back...this is just full of good stuffing. burp? hic* wink* |
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Earth Angel Member Empyrean
since 2002-08-27
Posts 40215Realms of Light |
Methinks ye be a raconteur yourself!--but one with strength of character! Rich in metaphors, messages and images! Splendid! ~ morning hugs! Linda |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Karilea A wonderful story, with all the key elements to draw in the heart. The poetic form felt lovely to the ear. Very much enjoyed! |
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vlraynes Member Rara Avis
since 2000-07-25
Posts 8229Somewhere... out there... |
Karilea~ Wow...I am truly impressed by what you've done with one little phrase. You really took this challenge and ran with it, and you won the race with flying colors. This is an excellent write and a very enjoyable story. VERY nicely done, my friend.  Hugs, ~Vicky "...until you have read the verse on his heart, |
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scorpio Member Ascendant
since 2002-10-02
Posts 5178right...there |
A gem...Karilea...so beautifully told...poignent in it's words and images... believe in what your heart feels... |
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Enchantress Member Empyrean
since 2001-08-14
Posts 35113Canada eh. |
Karilea...not only did you meet the challenge head on... but you touched my heart. I've been sitting here looking at this piece for quite some time... This is a wonderful story...and hit home without your knowledge. My father was a professional ventriloquist and after our mother passed away... Joey his vent dummy became even more real to him than he had been over the years. For me...this is a personal keeper. So very very much enjoyed. ~Hugs & Luv~ ~ Life is too short not to believe in Santa Claus ~ |
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Balladeer
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-05
Posts 25505Ft. Lauderdale, Fl USA |
Needless to say, I admire poets greatly that can use their craft to spin heart-touching yarns like this one. You done good, Sunshine!!  |
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garysgirl 
since 2002-09-29
Posts 19237Florida, USA |
Oh, Karilea, I loved the story in this poem. It really touched my heart..... first, I felt sad, then happy that the man was a little bit happier, then sad again because of the man's loss. It kept me very intrested all the way through. I was reading with anticipation of what would happen next. Have you ever written stories, Karilea? I was just wondering, because you tell them so well in your poetry. Thanks for sharing with us your fine work.  "Love makes the world go around" |
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vandana
since 1999-10-22
Posts 10463USA |
nice |
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kayjay Member Elite
since 2002-06-24
Posts 2015Oregon |
I agree with garysgirl. This is a fine story of love and dreams and forsaken love, for what else are the tragedies of our lives. As a lover of puppets, I felt at one with those in the attic. Ken J Through rubble and trouble and dark of night |
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Janet Marie Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554 |
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. ============================== Bestill me mothy heart....its long and it rhymes and it has alliterations!!  you know Im loving this one...very cool imagery in this mural of words poetess Sun. wonderful cadenced story telling... a MUST to be read aloud to truly enjoy its many gifts. the moth says so |
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Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
"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." dig this... the imagery is good here, vivid and clear. the story though... big smile.  |
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Nightshade
since 2001-08-31
Posts 13962just out of reach |
Karilea - a magical, touching story elegantly told. hugs, Chris "Hope" is the thing with feathers- |
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