by compound complex 67 Replies latest social entertainment
Ooh, poetry (prosetry?). Love me a peer an' a poke in someone's mind.
I scribbled this the other day -
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He kept his head in the guidebook
rocks underfoot
he declared the grass plush
took off shoes to feel the dew
never felt the cuts
He kept his head in the guidebook
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I couldn't tell you where the punctuation needs to be. I'm as educated as your average... Well, Jdub.
Nice welcome to friendaroonie, Nancy!
LucidChimp:
Welcome to the forum . . . glad to meet you!
Re your clever poem:
It's perfect in its straightforward simplicity, yet it has an underlying message that we all should heed.
THANKS! !!!
CC
Sorry -- mistook this for another thread!
CC
The deeply-grained, wood-paneled walls reach, from floor to ceiling, twelve feet. Choosing the correct materials for both aesthetic appeal and practicality was no mean endeavor, but all who come to visit admire what my able workmen have accomplished. And this is but one of dozens of rooms gracing the home of dreams -- years in the planning, still more in the building. Pride, attainment, satifaction: these words describe the high level of purpose and self-fulfillment I had come to realize.
. . . had come to realize. . . .
How is it that a man reaches the acme of a long-pursued and chosen dream and then, from the dark left field of his mind, senses that all he has amassed becomes the taste of ashes in his mouth? For years my mind and heart was on nothing but building this house -- this monument -- on land left me by Grandfather. A view of the sea is afforded on all sides but one of my sprawling Manderlay; its roots sink deeply into solid rock on a tongue of land that reaches toward and stops steeply at the sea.
It is perfect.
I stare vacantly at my richly-hued mahogany walls, wondering why they are closing . . . closing in on me. . . .
I hoped for better. My fatigue grows, my loneliness does not abate.
You promised to be there for me. Yes, you are there in body, but where is your heart? We talked big plans about our future together. Well and good. It seems, however, that "tomorrow" has become the operative word with you. Your promise to get to this or to that has been conveniently assigned to a date that appears on the calendar but, somehow, flies off the page when the task's accomplishment comes due. You cannot keep your promises to me in the least of matters, much less so with your whole heart.
If things don't improve, I'm putting you back in your cage . . .
Dear Nancy:
CoCo
had come to realize. . . .
How is it that a man reaches the acme of a long-pursued and chosen dream and then, from the dark left field of his mind, senses that all he has amassed becomes the taste of ashes in his mouth?
CoCo, just my scattered thoughts....
Magnificent and sprawling imagery of status and money.
.
A man who has everything...almost? Everything he thought he wanted and all that his eyes desired, so...
.
What has caused his regret?
.
What happened that made him realize, even with all his wealth, in the end, he would be no different than the penniless man?
.
Ashes to ashes.
.
Dust to dust.
.
Existence no more.
.
Is this building the only testament of that man's life? No progeny?
If things don't improve, I'm putting you back in your cage . . .
Hi rip:
Thanks for great questions on your penultimate post -- thinking them over . . .
Ultimate post re: the cage -- it just came to me as a twist ending. Whom is the narrator addressing?
His bird?
His dog?
His mate?
I dunno!
CC
