Home » Progress » Art » The Old and the New-ish

The Old and the New-ish

WordPress having enlightened us about how we did last year, made me think about my two sites and what I want for them (or shall I say, myself) in the new year. The only thing I feel like sharing at the moment, is my quest to get better at putting the words together.

Since I haven’t much else to say about these works in progress (or any of my others) and because my last post was a Christmas story with more words than many would deem prudent, I decided to begin Sparks In Shadow’s new year with a few Words One Hundred posts that meant a lot to me. They’re different from the ones WordPress says got the most hits, and that’s okay. Things get lost in this internet sea of words.

Even when found, the words don’t always mean the same things to readers as they do to writers. This is the reality that’s currently burning me into submission.

*******

Respite

Qthomasbower via Flickr

Through the glass, she sees an earthen footpath wending to the right behind golden mums, fuchsia roses, and trees rising higher to the edge of her view. She presses her palms against the hard coolness separating her life from the scenery, dreaming of lives beyond her reach.

To the left, sidewalk, lawn then busy artery, three lanes worth in both directions, reminding her of trips downtown, to an airport once, and flight.

Wanting either side, anything elsewhere, she removes her hands and massages a fist to keep it from cracking secret gardens and roads away. Today’s dream burrows farther down, and waits.

Portrait

Editor B via Flickr

Balloons, a high sea of indiscriminate hues, dot the boulevard, straining upward from straw-colored strings. Afraid for the birds, I walk away rubbing my hands, warming the tips of my soul, as the memory of mimosa reaches my nostrils. I hold my hands to my face to inhale more, navigating through parted fingers toward the museum’s entrance. I haven’t planned to see the canvas, but I drift inside to escape the visual cacophony outside.

Searching through galleries, unknowing, I walk into a white room and find myself alone on a wall, naked, swathed in sadness for posterity. I’d been seen.

Breathe. Now. Learn to hide.

Für Elise

TangoPango via Flickr

While playing piano in his apartment downstairs, my little girl footsteps assaulted like substantial stones striking wood.

Music, rising through floor and upholstery, warmed like saturated color when my ear pressed against the sofa. Loved even before discovering my trick, it stole something from me I didn’t want back. I reproached my feet for offering upset in return.

Afterward, my fate intertwined with books and music, I understood in ways that ached every time someone didn’t. Strange, this link to one who went away to escape children in motion.

I searched years for Beethoven, for Für Elise, without clues, humming.

Soap

Sam Smith via Wikipedia

debris detritus grit
gristle (because I’m bigger than the bug
but it scared me anyway)
bits of truth, clinging.
Why would I lie?

Why am I scared when tiny beings enter my space?
Are the ones I see ugly to their mothers?
Does sharpness rub under their exoskeletons?
every mama bug word for “you disappoint me”
pinching before cutting again into bug meat as they remember.
is that why I see ugly
and kill
because like sees like?

human words for “I don’t care”
cling unclean.
grit detritus debris
Soap doesn’t wash them away.
this is true
Why would I lie?

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32 thoughts on “The Old and the New-ish

  1. Every time you write, I have the feeling that there is some personal story hidden between the lines that I can’t quite see.
    The lines that got to me were:
    “find myself alone on a wall, naked, swathed in sadness for posterity”
    “it stole something from me I didn’t want back”
    “debris detritus grit
    gristle”
    and
    “human words for ‘I don’t care’
    cling unclean.
    grit detritus debris”
    Oh– and, of course, “This is the reality that’s currently burning me into submission.” I’m completely with you there.

    • Thanks for reading these, Anna, and letting me know which parts moved you. There’s a lot of the personal in much that I write. I can’t seem to help it. The one about the woman naked on the wall was fiction — feelings I understand — but pure fiction conjured in a couple of minutes out of nowhere. The others happen to be parts of my life. The poem was written from the bottom of a deep hole before the possibility of climbing out crossed my mind. I look at it now and wonder how I got it out, much less searched for a picture to go with it.

      That last bit you mention; that’s the bane of a writer’s existence isn’t it? That bites us all in the butt if we listen.

  2. Re, i am continually amazed at the surreal-ness of how you combine words to evoke. i “feel” what you are meaning more than i “understand” what you are saying. you are a wonderful poet, and these are splendid examples of your art. continue…

  3. Oh, lovely. “Respite” is one of my favorites, the one I feel most deeply.

    “Through the glass, she sees an earthen footpath wending to the right behind golden mums, fuchsia roses, and trees rising higher to the edge of her view. She presses her palms against the hard coolness separating her life from the scenery, dreaming of lives beyond her reach.”

    Maybe it’s time to break the glass, Re.

    XO

  4. Respite would make a brilliant first paragraph to a mystery book. I like your prose that way, I feel like I am entering a door. Also nice that you offer a picture with each one. I am highly visual so I appreciate that.

    • “I feel like I am entering a door.” I love that! Thank you. I’m so glad you like these. And it feels great that you like the pictures. It can take a while sometimes to find the right one.

  5. Happy New Year, my friend. Mine is kinda 60/40 so far but what can you do? At least, I’m still breathing and trying. Today was particularly trying, so forgive me.

    That said, it always makes me happy to come here and read the wonderful, tactile sincerity of your art. You may not know it but you are making the world a little bit brighter, one alpha at a time :). I haven’t finished your Xmas story yet but I will.

    Wishing you a progressive, peaceful and happier than sad 2012.

    Hugz,

    L.

    • I wish the same for you, Coco! And I hope tomorrow’s a much better day than today was.

      Thank you for saying such nice things. I’m happy when you read anything here, so please take your time and just read the things you want to read. Hugz to you, too!

  6. Ré, you are getting better and I applaud your continued search to improve. All of us who create are continually on that path. Know that there are manywho love what you. (Love “Fur Elise”! ) Have a great and successful 2012.. …..
    Looking forward to sharing it with you. 🙂

  7. Re, your writing always calms me. Your sentences are always so dream-like, and with my recent state-of-mind, this is so helpful. 🙂

    is that why I see ugly
    and kill
    because like sees like?

    Favorite line. Faaaaaavorite. So powerful. Sad. You are so talented.

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