Shimmer
Author's
Note: This is a stream of consciousness for the word shimmer. These exercises
are just for organizing your thoughts and digging into your subconscious, but I
want to eventually take these thoughts a few steps further. When I first thought about the word shimmer a
wedding scene came to mind and that is were I took my ideas from.
Bright confetti
flung overhead,
wild smiles and laughter all around.
You find entertainment in
the streamers soaring across the courtyard. Your face speaks a thousand
words of contentment and satisfaction. If I could say something I wouldn’t know
how to word it, but above all the noise you could never make out my voice. But
you know I'm here and I know you are there, and everything that needs to be
done or said has already been finished. For now we can just enjoy each others
presence, and know that forever we will never be alone.
As the party continues we make casual
conversation, but you are still focused
on the confetti above, still raining down like a storm of rainbows. I'm not sure
what mesmerizes you. What is it about the colors that bring fascination to your
eyes? You turn back to me and ask me to look with you, to see what you see, but
I assure you that everyone here can see the same streamers. You still insist. I try to squint towards the horizon, but all I see is the blinding light from the sun.
"It's like nothing I’ve ever seen before," you say staring directly into my eyes. But I know you’ve
seen confetti. I know that's not really the sight that amazes you. I cannot see it though, not until I look into the reflection from my glass.
Name
Author's Note: This is a stream of consciousness exercise that I did. Again, I tried to use the symbolism of the human body. When I was doing this my mind just drifted off and personally I have no idea what I was really thinking when I was writing this, but that is how this exercise is supposed to work.
It dawned on me the
moment you walked in. There were names upon your head, your hands, your legs,
and everywhere. Distant and far, you felt to me. I tried to read them all,
there were far to many for me to remember or comprehend. The ones you portrayed
all over your body were none of the same that you told me. Neither matched up.
You would say one thing, but your hands said another. I tried to call for you as
you began to fall, but you wouldn't respond to anything. You were a stone to
my voice, a boulder to my words. You could hear me, but you never listened.
The list upon your body grew larger and larger, weighing you down, forcing you
below us. As I stood trying to reach out for you, you rejected my hands,
letting your own hands fall farther into depravity. I used to be able to talk
to you and you would respond. But now you are so lost, lost in your own self,
lost in you're fake names. You don't even know who you truly are.
Stone
Author's
Note: This is a stream of consciousness in response to the word stone. I tried
to use a lot of symbolism in this piece in order to give a whole other meaning
to the image below. I did a lot of experimenting in this piece please tell me
what you think.
Gently
flowing, the clear liquid slips through large stones, gliding down the river.
Grazing the tips of my fingers as I kneel over, farther and farther it pulls me
toward it till the cool water sends a shiver through my body.
Reenergizing.
Gliding through stones, over and around. Cool as ice, it penetrates
me. Clear as glass, it shatters at my touch of unfamiliarity,
splashing against the rocks that block its path. Soft mists sprinkle me.
Rushing.
I cup my
hands to grasp the water, trying to reach my mouth. As I lift it higher and
higher it slips from the crevasse and flows right back into the creek. Again I
try to taste the water, yet it still escapes me. Dripping from my soaked hands
to the ground, yet never making it to my mouth. Splashing with angered hands, I
fight for just one sip, yet it still resists me.
My
reflection appears in the rushing water, rippled and deformed, for an instant,
then gone. As if I was never there, as if the water never welcomed my
presence.
And the water just continues to run through the stones. Rising and
crashing, colliding and splashing.
You know, I can't help but smile at how far you have come as a writer. There is no way you would have come this close to poetry, to writing without censoring yourself, a year ago. Excellent job. I like the vocabulary you have here, and the way that you extend the metaphor.
ReplyDeleteIn response to the entry about "name": I would remind you that creation emerges from the same part of the brain that dreams do. Dreams couch meaning with symbolism; it's one of the ways we create literature and art as a people. With that being said, I would encourage you to reflect on the entry, and attempt to discern the meaning. It may be highly personal, and something you don't wish to share, but there is meaning to be found.
ReplyDeleteI am apparently the only one who writes to your blog, but I would ask if you want to turn this into a poetic form, or just experiment with that. Let me know if you do.
ReplyDelete