‘Photo Dumps’ seem to be ‘a thing’ in the blogosphere right now. Thing is, I’m not much of a photographer. I am a writer, however, a very keen one and one searching for feedback on her work! So today’s post is going to be a ‘Writing Dump’ because someone likes to be
rebellious original. It will consist of poetry, short stories and snippets of novels both finished and not.
First though, here I am with another spoken word poem, this time accompanied by creative film-making by me, starring me! Todays poem/film is called Peace For A Poet and it is about a poet on a journey to find peace in our crazy, messed-up world. Along her way she highlights all the injustices she encounters, but in the end….well, you’ll just have to watch it to find out!
I really hope you enjoyed that! As always, feedback is appreciated!
Now, onto #1 of ‘The Dump’. Oh yeah!
“I see you crying, crying like you can’t take no more. I know you’re hiding, but I don’t know what you’re hiding for.
You’re like a diamond shining underneath a billion rocks.
And no one knows the truth except me, and you, of course.
Or do you? I guess there aren’t many mirrors in the pile of rocks that crush you,
Nothing to reflect your brilliant sparkle and bounce it back to you.
Just dull grey rock, maybe you think you’re the same, just with one small difference:
you’re at the bottom of the pile, under everyone else.
Let me tell you, you’re way above them, honey, you just need to realise it.”
I like this because of its sass. It’s from a prose-y short story called Revolution.
Okay, here are a few snippets from my incompleted NaNo project, The Melody Of Life:
He looked upset. “I wish I could be here to help her”
“Why can’t you?” I asked, raising my voice as anger and confusion threatened to appear, seemingly out of nowhere.
He didn’t answer, just hung his head, all trace of a smile gone.
“I said, why can’t you?” I shouted.
“Dante?” I spun around at the sound of my Mother’s wobbling voice.
“Coming, Mum.” I popped my head around the living room door.
“She misses you, you know.” I whispered, but when I looked around my Father was gone.
It was weeks before he appeared again, perhaps even a month. I was upstairs in my room, imagining as usual. I heard something at the window. Looking across, I couldn’t see anything. Just as I was turning back to stare at the blank canvas of my wall, a shadow crossed the glass. I sighed and decided to check it out. Flinging the window open, I looked out across the rooftops and, sure enough, there he was. He was sat with his back to me, gazing out at the town, swinging his legs over the edge of the garage roof.
“Hey!” I exclaimed, leaping out of the window to join him. He looked at me as I sat down next to him, no surprise in his eyes.
“Where have you been? You abandoned me!” I laughed, glad to have him back. He didn’t laugh with me.
“You don’t need me anymore.” he said. That stopped my laughter short.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “What do you mean, Dad?”
“I’m not your Dad.” he told me. That made me wince. “Look, you need to leave me behind and find your real Dad.” The power of his words really hit me hard, right where it hurts too.
I thought about explaining how I couldn’t, about how it would hurt me even more, about how I was safe here, with him, but somehow my argument sounded feeble now.
“You may not need me, but you do need this.” I watched as he pulled a scrap of dusty orange paper from his jeans pocket and handed it to me.
I traced Sahra’s handwriting across its surface. “Where did you get this?” I breathed.
“Call her.” he said, and with that he jumped from the roof.
“Dad!” I cried, looking over the edge, but he was gone. Probably forever.
Just to say, this is his imaginary Dad, his real one left when he was young.
“How did you know I was on the roof today? How did you see me?” I asked
She laughed a little. “That would be because I was on the roof too.”
I was astonished. “You were? You were on my roof?”
“No! My roof, silly.”
“Oh.” It was obvious now I thought about it.
“It’s a great spot for thinking, no?” she stared dreamily out of the window.
“Yeah, you also get a pretty damn good phone signal up there too.” I joked.
She laughed softly.
An attempt at humour. 😉
We walked for a long time in silence. Finally, I spoke. “Sahra?”
“Oh. That’s okay.”
“You know what you did, right?”
“I guess so.”
“You took me into the real world and you’ve made it hard for me to leave.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“When your life does have bits missing, it’s easy to slip into a place which isn’t entirely real. Before I met you I had cut myself off, wrapped myself up in my imagination, hidden from the truth. I created a place that’s perfect, too perfect, a fantasy.”
“And I drew you out of it?”
“Exactly. You’ve changed me in the few days we’ve spent together. You’ve shown me how amazing reality can be and now I don’t want to go back to my old ways.”
Sahra stepped in front of me. “Dante, you don’t have to.”
I clenched my fists. “You know what it’s like, Sahra. You know it’s hard for me.”
“Yes, Dante.” she whispered softly. “But it’s not impossible. I’ll help you, Jenita will help you, so will Paige and everyone.”
“There’s something else I need to tell you.”
Ooh, the drama!
“Please.” I asked empty space. I felt my way blindly through my thoughts. “I’m not five. You have to tell me what’s happened.”
I heard a sigh, it was strangely muffled. “Look. Get your head out of that pillow and I’ll explain everything.”
I lifted my head and blinked in the light.
I punched in her number, just to see what it looked like on the screen. It was attractive. I laughed quietly to myself, I never found the prospect of numbers or figures exciting. Maths was not something I revelled in.
I have to tell you the truth after all this time. I’m not much of a writer, you know that, but I’ll try to explain the best I can. Please don’t expect any eloquence because that’s one thing I can’t provide.
I am and always will be your friend, but I have to tell you this (you may hate me for it afterwards and never want to speak to me again, but I’ll accept that as my fate). I lied to you all along. It felt terrible to deceive you, but I promise I was only trying to help.
You know, if you ask nicely I might even give you some more snippets, but for now…..*closes book*…..the end.
The Angel Of Peace
Shrouding shawl wrapped around my compassionate shoulders,
Ascending from the wrath of 195 nation’s past.
From the eye of the storm reflected in their vision,
From the glint on the blade of a metallic winking sword,
And from the release of a gun.
From two hands interlocked, stained with the blood of enemies and comrades combined,
I arise, the angel of peace.
Just another lil’ poem on the not so lil’ subject of peace.