Triptych

 

Things That Make My Throat Close Over

 

The radio: Sibelius.  Finlandia: the cello dread and brass intent of poems written afterwards, to tumble back before she left, for me to hold the hand and turn the cogs of my salty dog, bereft. I cannot listen without echoes.

 

The unexpected note my lover leaves me on the table, which I only see when he is far away.

 

The Grapes of Wrath, especially the final paragraph.

 

Little kids being little kids.

 

Children being diminished, twisting into ruined seeds in turn to reap rewards of a festering sore. How no one seems to want to halt the entropy.  

 

Babies made invisible, buried, hand-dug from hot rubble

and displayed to a weeping world; how rarely breaks the circle.

 

The Cliffs of Moher, where I became a stolen child, held breath, and on my death, take my dust, dash me down.  Let me join the drowned, and we’ll roar within Atlantic storms forever.

 

How Leonard Cohen wrote about his brother. 

 

Things That Gnaw The Silence

 

That the fire in my belly grows cold.  Mellow’s well and good, balance can be happiness, tolerance, acceptance and serenity I practise, but anger’s been an energy since infancy.  It’s impotent without the poisoned water.   When she left, gloves were down, seconds out, no more rounds, the battle ended. Left empty on a ledge without a word or deadly weapon, looking down into the void. I miss the venom. I understood the venom.

 

Things That Make A Difference To A Stranger

 

A smile given freely at the bus stop.  A chat about the rain, snow, sleet, wind, sunshine;  daffodils, daisies, how long lived, congratulations.  Offering a helping hand with bag, pram, jump leads.  Apologies. To take responsibility for wrongs that I committed in the car park, motorway, one-way system. Sorry, that was me.  Kindness. Simple acts of altruism, valueless and valuable, the oil to the wheels of the world. Cheery Hi’s, Hello’s and How’s Your Days, passing time, giving time to those with the brittle flint of lonely in their eye.

 

How Leonard Cohen wrote about the cracks in everything.

 

NaPoMoWri 2019

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Comments

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Laura Taylor

Wed 10th Apr 2019 09:15

Thanks Rachel and Trev

I know Trev 😉 I'm massively happy with this one actually - think it's one of the best things I've ever written. The significances keep rolling out, and the LC lines wrap it beautifully, right down to the song titles, the meanings, and the album titles. Yay 😃

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Trevor Alexander

Tue 9th Apr 2019 16:40

I can resonate with some of these! However, I suspect the fire in your belly isn't cold - maybe just got a longer fuse. Tough prompt to write to, but you've done it justice. 👍

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elPintor

Tue 9th Apr 2019 16:10

..glad that I stopped work long enough to read this )

Rachel

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Laura Taylor

Tue 9th Apr 2019 14:10

Day 9, Napowrimo 2019

http://www.napowrimo.net/

Today's prompt: a piece inspired by the work of Sei Shonagon, a Japanese writer who lived more than 1000 years ago. She wrote a journal that came to be known as The Pillow Book. In it she recorded daily observations, court gossip, poems, aphorisms, and musings, including lists with titles like “Things That Have Lost Their Power,” “Adorable Things,” and “Things That Make Your Heart Beat Faster.” Today, I’d like to challenge you to write your own Sei Shonagon-style list of “things.”

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