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Literature Text
i used to play checkers
with the grandfather clock
at the local flea market.
i visited him every day,
noon thirty.
somehow, he would still be there,
week after week,
standing regally near a
lamp missing its shade.
grandfather clock was a quiet fellow,
choosing to say something
only at two fifty three, and only
every other day.
the ugly baby with the owl eyes
couldn't keep quiet,
rambling on and on about
how it used to live
with someone who played
the banjo (at least,
that's what i think it said.)
in the stand next to grandfather
clock, there sat a statue
of elephants, bronze and rusting,
who preferred to stay silent
unless there happened to be
a basket of frayed, stuffed turtles
nearby.
my grandfather clock always
schooled me at checkers, but
whenever i pulled out the old
cribbage board, i beat him
every time.
i would lounge on a set
of paisley print pillows
that released a cloud
of dust whenever i sat on them.
sometimes, giant rolls of wallpaper
would rest against grandfather's side,
and he would complain
of their weight.
his cracked frame would
deepen whenever he spoke,
and one day,
grandfather remained silent.
i opened him at his metal
hinges to find that his insides
had stopped whirring.
with the grandfather clock
at the local flea market.
i visited him every day,
noon thirty.
somehow, he would still be there,
week after week,
standing regally near a
lamp missing its shade.
grandfather clock was a quiet fellow,
choosing to say something
only at two fifty three, and only
every other day.
the ugly baby with the owl eyes
couldn't keep quiet,
rambling on and on about
how it used to live
with someone who played
the banjo (at least,
that's what i think it said.)
in the stand next to grandfather
clock, there sat a statue
of elephants, bronze and rusting,
who preferred to stay silent
unless there happened to be
a basket of frayed, stuffed turtles
nearby.
my grandfather clock always
schooled me at checkers, but
whenever i pulled out the old
cribbage board, i beat him
every time.
i would lounge on a set
of paisley print pillows
that released a cloud
of dust whenever i sat on them.
sometimes, giant rolls of wallpaper
would rest against grandfather's side,
and he would complain
of their weight.
his cracked frame would
deepen whenever he spoke,
and one day,
grandfather remained silent.
i opened him at his metal
hinges to find that his insides
had stopped whirring.
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Literature
Blueberries
I find myself grateful
for the existence of semicolons,
little things
keeping my life sentence
half open;
lost in thought
I wash the blueberries
with trembling hands,
you listen to the news
while making tea -
it’s a bitter cup again
but we have honey,
strong hearts, a lock on the door -
we have time for laughter;
in the end
it all comes down to this:
a bowl of blueberries
a kiss on the cheek;
Literature
thalassophile
Silver light upon the sea
Sharp as scales, they slit the
Morning sun open -
Like a yolk it bleeds, ichor
Spilled thoughtlessly;
Smearing the fish belly white
Morning with a splatter of life.
Golden light upon the sea
Warm as palms, they stroke the
Turbulent blue -
Like a cat it purrs, star-chilled waves
Licking shores;
Tabby pelt flecked with shell white
And the gulls sing once more.
Literature
A Mysterious Place
The trees beyond the cemetery are all dead, bare of leaves with branches twisted liked gnarled limbs all akimbo. They've been that way as long as I can remember. Thirty Five years and still they stand, tall, dark and tangled. Most people find it off putting, too foreboding a backdrop for a place already shrouded in death. Walking through the grove of trees I'm surprised at how tall they are, at how the trunks and branches bend and curl, some swirling up and some swirling down. I touch them and they feel strong, solid. Perhaps they're not dead after all...
I find them uniquely beautiful, stark yet majestic in their own way. I follow along thi
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Day 140 of the #Glory-Be-Project
Written on May 20th, 2013
Do you understand it?
Are the line breaks confusing?
Is it noticeable that through the piece, the speakers affection is growing, so the words she uses to address the grandfather clock change?
Overall?
=TwilightPoetess and I gave each other fifteen words to use in a poem and/or short story. Here's the list she gave me:
Written on May 20th, 2013
Do you understand it?
Are the line breaks confusing?
Is it noticeable that through the piece, the speakers affection is growing, so the words she uses to address the grandfather clock change?
Overall?
=TwilightPoetess and I gave each other fifteen words to use in a poem and/or short story. Here's the list she gave me:
- Precious Moments
Owl Eye
Grandfather Clock
Ugly Baby
Cracked Frames
Cribbage Board
Paisley Print
Pillows
A Missing Lampshade
Metal Hinges
Banjo
Checkers
Rolls of Wallpaper
Elephants
Stuffed Turtles
© 2013 - 2024 LionesseRampant
Comments18
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Overall
Vision Originality
Technique ImpactI've tried to format my critique based on the questions you posted in your comments. I'm not sure I managed entirely. <img src="e.deviantart.net/emoticons/r/r…" width="15" height="15" alt="
" data-embed-type="emoticon" data-embed-id="397" title=" (Razz)"/> But I can tell you that I love this, it's such a random-seeming topic from my point-of-view (I'm no single-scene writer), but that makes it all the better.Do you understand it?
Yes, and I like it. Whimsical is a great way to address this, and I like that you chose something almost commonplace to focus on, something that you could relatively easily fit your strange list of words into. <img src="e.deviantart.net/emoticons/s/s…" width="15" height="15" alt="
" data-embed-type="emoticon" data-embed-id="391" title=" (Smile)"/> I did not follow the "ugly baby" section, I couldn't tell if you were talking about the clock still or if you meant some other flea market item. Since it's a grandfather clock, using 'baby' threw me and I didn't know what you meant. (Most grandfather clocks don't ramble that long...) And then you move to the elephants (again, another flea market item), so I can't use context. I like the idea of something rambling about living with someone who played the banjo, complete with clarification... I'm just not sure how to visualize that part.Are the line breaks confusing?
Some of them are. Free form poetry can be like that, so I almost hesitate to criticize your line breaks... but you asked. <img src="e.deviantart.net/emoticons/b/b…" width="15" height="15" alt="
" data-embed-type="emoticon" data-embed-id="366" title=" (Big Grin)"/> I would keep "a" with "lamp", personally, and the lines "only at two fifty three, and only // every other day" seem awkward. I read through those pausing at the comma, after 'and', and as written, and none of them sound right to me. Could you be missing a word, perhaps? Because you aren't following a particular metre, things like having "stuffed turtles // nearby" break isn't what I was expecting, but it's not wrong, per se.Is it noticeable that through the piece, the speaker's affection is growing, so the words she uses to address the grandfather clock change?
I think the most noticeable difference is the articles used. You start with "the grandfather clock", then progress to "grandfather clock" and "my grandfather clock". I'm not sure I would have noticed if you hadn't point it out, however. (Unfortunately I read your list of questions before I reread the poem.)
Overall?
Overall I love it. I can put myself in the narrator's place, visiting a flea market with an assortment of odd items. I know you started with a list of odd items, but I don't think I would have ended up with anything half this good. You've painted a wonderful picture of the flea market. Wonderful work!