FRIDAY FICTIONEERS 3-4-2017

friday-fictioneers-farm-path

clouds-above-the-trees

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


Inside

I can only know you, he said, if I’m inside
And so he crawled in,
My legs spread like a sprawling giraffe.
I am in you.
I am in you.
Like clouds on the sun,
Shadows pretending rain.
When he found nothing
He crawled out,
Walked away without
A word of
Goodbye.

Poetry Moment – Carrion Comfort by Gerard Manley Hopkins

One of my favorite poems even though it is totally different from my style of writing.  I love the rhythmic flow of the words.

Carrion Comfort

By Gerard Manley Hopkins 1844–1889

Not, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist — slack they may be — these last strands of man
In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me
Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan
With darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones? and fan,
O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?
Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.
Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod,
Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, chéer.
Cheer whom though? the hero whose heaven-handling flung me, fóot tród
Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year
Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God

Poetry Moment

Woodchuck

in memory of Mary Pulley

Autumn furs rings
winter rolls of fat
angled between
moth-battered windshield
and blue road.
Why did it choose to follow
this arbitrary path?
I cried for an hour afterwards:
something I had never done before,
not even for you.

The soft crunch
of collar bone
beneath wheels
resounds
like the soft plop
of you
beside the bed
dying
a hundred miles away.

CS Knotts

Love in Ten Sentences Challenge

I have been challenged by a fantastic blogger, mamalisa4, to step up to the Love in Ten Sentences Challenge.  Since I enjoy her unique point of view and posts immensely, I was glad for the honor.  (And I told you that I hadn’t forgotten).  While I do write poetry, I do not normally conform to such a strict structure so the challenge pressed me not only to write a poem, but to do so in a form that I was not comfortable using.  No pressure at all!

The challenge requires one to write a ten line poem, each sentence four words long.  Each line must also contain the word love.  At the end, one has to add a favorite quote about love. I will pass this challenge on to others bloggers separately (when I finally figure out how best to do that).

So said, here goes:

Love comes from nowhere.

Rain looks like love.

Sand feels like love.

Winds blows like love.

Sun kisses like love.

Blue sky shines love.

Storm clouds cry love.

Moonlight glows for love.

Night hides for love.

Sun rises for love.

 

“The one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person.”

Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters

 

 

Writing – A Poem by CS Knotts

Writing

Last night I dreamt
Of the one whom I created
But do not know–
One of many voices
I have never known not having,
Features photographed like ghosts
Layer upon layer on me
Until I am only a Roman mask.
Seeking to create in my own image
For he is me
And with me he can never live.
I hear below
The gentle rattle of the lock,
The invisibility of steps on stairs,
The indrawn breath of creation,
Struggled to create him first
But always he is faceless–
Awake the room rings
With vanished mockery.
He feeds but is starved.
In seven years perhaps
He will go elsewhere,
Become flesh like me,
Without me,
Strigoi spawned in an unknowing moment.
And another. And another.
Creation never ceases.
It is swimming in swift current;
Once you cease to stroke
You are swept away.
And once created how later

To explain
It was not meant to be?

I walk as if blind,
Black dog on one side,
Huge white eyes painted on his forehead,
Vlad on the other
Through my own burning Wallachia.
Somewhere, someday
From a belfry
I will hear their bells
Ringing my name.

JSW Prompt 10/24/2014

I have a lot of great personality traits. Or, as my Doctor calls them, symptoms……

He’s a bit mad, my Doctor, but I guess that’s what being a Head Doctor does to you. Well him. I’m not a Head Doctor, just the patient of one and I kinda like it that way. For one thing, being a Doctor is too much damn school for me. I’d much prefer to have as little as possible. Not that I’m not smart, mind you, but – as my Doctor says – I have no incentive to apply myself. Which is probably true.

But what he calls symptoms of my ‘disease’ are, to me, just traits I’ve lived with all my life.  They are *me*.  I’m quiet, probably more moody than most, prone to erratic changes in thoughts and actions.  Creative. Manic. Depressive. Shy. Withdrawn. But that doesn’t make me crazy.  I’m not.  Crazy that is.  Never have been. Hopefully, never will be.  It would be nice if other people understood that having these traits makes me different from them, but that doesn’t make those traits, or me, wrong. It would be nice to be accepted for who I am and not for how well I line up with other people’s expectations….