Subject: Interesting...
Author:
Posted on: 2013-01-25 02:58:00 UTC
Very reminiscent of Hans Christian Andersen. Is your friend a fan of his?
Subject: Interesting...
Author:
Posted on: 2013-01-25 02:58:00 UTC
Very reminiscent of Hans Christian Andersen. Is your friend a fan of his?
Well, a poem that does not have anything to do with fan culture or the PPC, but since you like good writing, you all should enjoy it. It was written by a friend of mine, who is a fantastic writer and loves word-craft, seeing what one can do with the right word in the right place. Unfortunately it does not have a name that I know of, but here is the poem:
Once there was a girl who lived like grace
And when she was born
Her mother made her a box that said love
In it were pictures of very old houses and love poems and diamond rings
Her mother took her to church every Sunday
There she learned of love and acceptance and family and beautiful songs and miricles and met nice people
Mother said, "I love you no matter what."
Her mother took her home on the last day of her life
And she seemed like ice to the girl
One day she melted and the girl cried and cried
"Stop crying," Her father said, and he hurt her
She screamed into the pages of books so someone could know her pain
She breathed in love poems so that the stanzas may be trapped in her chest so even in her sleep she'd feel the words, "I love you no matter what," escape her lips
The books served no judgment and never hurt her
So her father took the books and ripped page from binding
She saw her screams on the carpet for the first time
For she had no more to scream
She lay awake at night protected only by her blankets
And she would talk to her mother
"Hi mom, I miss you"
She woke up at the age of 17
Her screams long gone and boys looked at her now
But she couldn't look in the mirror
She had forgotten what she looked like
But it was the morning of her birth that she met a boy
He talked of love and acceptance and sang her beautiful songs and spoke of miricles and family and he was very nice
He was born 17 years ago but she had died long before
For the first time she felt her heart beat
She liked the boy very much
She looked in the mirror that night and touched her cheeks and hair and lips and neck and felt like a princess again
She felt her mother's words in her throat, "I love you no matter what"
But it couldn't be true
So she swallowed the page with pictures of old houses and diamond rings and what dissolved in that place was love
She didn't want to believe there was somthing worth living for because survivling to get it meant living for more
For more than survival
And she had lived so long by the skin of her teeth that everything tasted of blood and wine
And in such a land as that of blood amd Merlot there holds dominion beings of sound and stone who speaks through the deserts and bleed mountaintops
But how can a creture who bleeds stone live in mortal form?
She thought then the boy was a wolf in sheep's clothing
Wanting nothing more than to slaughter her sheperds and roam forever a road with a bloodied oil lamp where he might tear from the chest of an innocent her still-beating heart and with it in his hand say,
"I don't bleed like you."
She felt that heart in her chest and cut
She could feel the words leak from jer wrist and it was very dark now
She felt alive again but her father found her
A stringless marionette who's puppeteer carried her in the strongest of arms but let her strings loose
He whispered, "Please don't die"
He prayed.
"Lord please bless my child
Help her find the strength from within to carry on
Lord? Lord?
Please speak to me!"
She heard a voice, "I'll always be with you."
And she jumped,
Knocking her father back into the blood pooled behind him
She thought of only the boy and she ran through darkest and rain-soaked night to find him.
She came to him in tears
"What's wrong?" He asks
She says, "God lives inside of me."
She falls to the ground and he takes her about the arms
"God lives inside of all of us," he says.
"You can taste his word in the desperately desolate sections of breath
The quiet and silent and peacefull moments whee only your mind rumbles in your skull
That's where God is and it doesn't matter if you want him there
He'll pay for his rent through your kindness and when he checks in he'll never leave
But he'll be a good patron and keep your soul immaculate
So there's no need to cry because moments of silence and blank pages are God's words
And you'll live in moments that seem never-ending and forevers that end too quickly
Because to understand the soul is to understand the end of forever and the forever ending
And you'll never understand, there's only acceptance
He lives inside of you and everyone who has ever lived and those who shall
Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Agnostic, Atheist
No matter what you believe or don't believe God will let you know he's there when you kiss a loved one, help a frend in need, laugh or cry or love or hate or scream or whisper."
Thus spoke the boy, he said, "God bleeds the stone and from his wounds came the mountains."
She said, "But who did God bleed for?"
He said, "He bled for us. God's skin shed to sand and his tears made the ocean"
He leans to her ear, "I looked into your eyes and I saw the ocean."
She felt his heart beat
It sounded like a church service
She cried and said, "I love you no matter what."
She saw a clear sky and there were mountains
She thought the mountains to be closer to God than anything else
And on top of those mountains were beings of sound and stone who bleed to bring life
And those beings spoke to her saying,
"We'll always be with you."
Very reminiscent of Hans Christian Andersen. Is your friend a fan of his?
Wow. I...wow. That's a very strong poem, though I'd suggest getting rid of the typos.
Please tell your friend that it's very well done and I'm glad to have read it.
~DF
Why do I do this? I double checked, I think I even triple checked, and yet I missed some typos. By the Nine Divines... I'm so sorry to you all. I am trying to improve my spelling, and I know it does not often seem like it, but I am. The reason there are typos is because I only have a hard copy of it, not a digital one to copy-paste over to the document. I had to type out each word, and my device at the time had no spell-check, plus I am terrible at spelling, so I goofed up.
On a positive note, thank you. Unfortunately I don't see him often at all, but if I do see him, I'll be sure to tell him people like it. When I first heard the poem, he was reading it aloud. It is a beautiful piece for dramatic reading, and conveys a variety of emotions, so mix this poem with his deep, heavy base tonal quality to his voice, it was very moving. It was so moving, I asked him for the hard copy I posted here. I have read some of his other poems, and I know, if he does not get published and well known for his writings, there is no justice in this world. He is that good.
Thanks again, and I am sorry to you all for my continuing mistakes. I just don't know what went wrong...
Hey, no, don't worry about it. It's not your fault if you didn't have a spell-checker at the time, and unfortunately, these posts can't be edited after they've been posted. (Not to mention that being 'terrible at spelling', as you put it, is most definitely not a crime). It was still understandable and, like I said, very strong. I just thought I should mention the typos in case they existed in a different digital copy.
Ooh, yes, I can see how this would be beautiful read aloud. You're fortunate to have heard it :) Here's hoping he does get published, and well-known, and someday I get to read this poem in a book and recognize it! :D
Again, really, don't worry about the spelling. And sorry again for giving you such a late reply (better than no reply at all, though...)
~DF