Poetic Prose, thanks to a muse

Have you written a story? Even a poem? Post your artistic creations here!

Moderator: The Lounge Moderators

Post Reply
User avatar
munchkinprince
Loyal
Posts: 212
Joined: Fri Mar 30, 2007 11:36 pm
Contact:

Poetic Prose, thanks to a muse

Post by munchkinprince » Tue Oct 09, 2007 12:52 am

I think I write better when I'm forced... but since I'm not being forced now, I'm sorry that the quality may not be incredible. It follows no rhyming pattern, is an allegory(obviously), is extremely long, and probably can't capture the images in my head.



Words don't flow

Rhymes don't come

There's no reason why they should

Noone's asked them

Who else cares?



The prose unravels

releasing the child inside.

As she spins and spins,

dizzying herself and the story

the threads show her:



Pain, Healing

Sorrow, Ecstasy

Everything the tapestry shows

is utterly her.

Totally, unfortunately, beautifully her



She spins too fast

the stitches tear

her story falls,

there's no repair

what to do?



the threads are frayed

and no floss around

except one single, all-encompassing spool

the Navy blue:

The combo of sadness and darkness

seems like a perfect fit.



It's a perfect fit

I guess it worked

She brushes off and steps up

to admire the conformity of

one thread to another



Patchy. Blocky.

The sea of Navy steals

the life of the Bow around it.

Reds fade, Yellows vanish

Green drops to chaos.



She has closed her eyes,

the Navy took over the work.

What was once a landscape of perfection

has been invaded,

enslaved by the Navy.



She beholds a wall

that no longer remembers the mural

it once claimed to be

It seeks nothing else but to

complete it's role as a towering monolith.



She can't spin again,

she's sick.

Or at least, that's what she thinks.

If she spins again, the mural is broken

and every bit of beauty is lost



She picks up her tools

Crochets away

No callouses yet,

she gets pricked

give up?



Thimble!

Sew sew sew

So So So

tired of working

why's it worth it?



Squeak.

a square of the mural cries out from

a small window inside its oppressor.

Remember me.

As it is consumed, the wall laughs.



I am the most beautiful thing you will ever see again.

Not only am I your muse, I'm your life

Your death, your being,

Your voices.

She breaks?



She's prepared.

The wall laughs while she shakes.

Always shaking.

The tops pop and she doesn't stop.

The wall, without a face, still screams



Hissing fills the air as she wins.

She sprays Violets, oranges, greens,

yellows, mauves, and reds

She doesn't care about what she sprays

she sprays to spray and sprays what she can



She falls, exhausted.

Every color, expended

her gaze falls upon what she once beheld

before she spun:

her



Her beautiful tapestry has resurfaced.

The wall has crumbled

It could not grasp what It could not know,

so It ceased.

Her beauty shone through the Blue



Granted, the piece isn't always

perfect mixes and shades

of those Violets and oranges

and other brights.



The blue still exists. Not only in Navy,

but in turquoise, in Baby, in Sky.

In other colors like Seafoam,

but it never dominates

more than it's own share.



Her piece, her art, her Life

will be on display soon:

The greatest exhibition will be glad to accept her

The only problem is that

she's not done with it yet.
Jesus loves you! Even if I think you suck!





Have a great day and a fantastic tomorrow!



:lol: :woot:





I know a kid named Sora who defeated the darkness in humanity's hearts and he's a teenager. You're an adult; what have you done with your life?

User avatar
anonymous08
Loyal
Posts: 817
Joined: Mon Jan 15, 2007 1:11 am
Contact:

Re: Poetic Prose, thanks to a muse

Post by anonymous08 » Tue Oct 09, 2007 6:58 pm

"The bell jar hung, suspended, a few feet above my head. I was open to the circulating air."

- Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
You couldn't be suicidal if your life depended on it.



there i go again, pretending that i'll fall

don't call the doctors!

they've seen it all before

they'll say just let her crash and burn

she'll learn

the attention just encourages her.

- Dresden Dolls "Girl Anachronism"


Post Reply