Inspired by the Moody Comic (or Amaryllis)

Not long ago, I read this SMBC comic.  It made me write this sonnet.

 

Every day I look forward to seeing

Your shape beneath the yellow fever trees

For a short moment, I feel you freeing

This heart within me my chest seems to squeeze.

Sighing, I admire the dappled sunlight

Kissing your pink blushing tips and your leaves,

And though my clumsy descriptions will slight

I weave in my mind what my eye perceives.

And as I compose, I find new colours

In your trumpets facing every which way

Has every part been described by scholars?

Or have you kept some secrets to this day?

Oh belladonna, you enrapture me

Scentless, your curving petals capture me.

Amaryllis belladonna

 

 

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We Meet Again

My old nemesis writer’s block has reared her ugly head.

Do you know any good writing exercises which might help me chase her off?

Or maybe some inspiring artwork?

Please let me know.

An Empty Speech Bubble

reflection_of_the_galaxy_by_alierturk-deviantart

(Credit: alierturk on DeviantArt)

I made an empty speech bubble

And tried to fill it with stars, I found swimming in a night sky.

But it was only a reflection in still water, which had tricked my eye,

And I slipped on the smooth stones.

Drenched, I shivered, as the cold gnawed at my bones.

And I tried again to fill the bubble, this time with fish wrung from my hair.

But they died, gasping for air,

And my shadow rose up behind me and laughed at me,

And my silly notions of filling the emptiness. ‘Like piss in the sea,’

It told me. ‘But the sea is full of life,’

I thought, as I cut the shadow from my feet with a knife

And stuffed it in my bubble.

The Seeress With the Birds

Music can be a wonderful source of inspiration.

The first time I heard “Seersken” by Valravn, I got an idea for a scene with a scene with a seer, which evolved into an idea for a whole novel. I’ve given up the novel (at least for now), but every time I hear the song, I still see the seer in my mind’s eye just as I imagined her that first time. Even if I never write that novel, I promise myself I will write something, which includes her one day.

The lyrics first in Danish then a translation in English:

Det er seersken med fuglene
Der griner når vi ter os
Det er seersken med fuglene
Der hvisker slip lænkerne løs

Se ham i øjnene
Grøn, brun og blå
Se ham i øjnene
Se iris, se dig, se mig,
se selv

Det er seersken med fuglene
Der skærer illusionerne
Det er seersken med fuglene
Der går rundt i sneen og skriver gåder

Attarinarina attarina attarina…

Se ham i øjnene
Grøn, brun og blå
Se ham i øjnene
Se stående, værende,
gennem det der sker

————————————-

It is the seeress with the birds
Who laughs when we misbehave
It is the seer with the birds
Who whispers let go of the chains

Look him in the eyes
Green, brown and blue
Look him in the eyes
See iris, see you, see me,
See for yourself

It is the seeress with the birds
Who cuts the illusions
It is the seer with the birds
Who walks around the the snow, writing riddles

Attarinarina attarina attarina…

Look him in the eyes
Green, brown and blue
Look him in the eyes
See standing, being,
Through what is happening

Insight

insight

Credit: orchidia.com/insight

She had roses woven into her flowing hair. Their thorns must have been digging into her scalp, because I saw a trickle of blood behind her ear.

She laughed.

‘It’s all so clear,’ she said, ‘it’s like the universe is a pearl of dew on a blade of grass and the sunrise beams all the colours into my mind.’ She spun around, her arms stretched out wide as if inviting the heavens to dance.

She collapsed too suddenly for me to catch her. When I eased her head onto my lap, she seemed unconscious, but she was still smiling.

43 Creation

subcreation

The creation of a sentence might begin with fish flying through one’s brain or a photograph of dolphins from that last vacation one had with one’s sister. The one where one well and truly realized that one did not wish to see her again. Ever.

It can begin with the scent of roses or the reek from under one’s arms after going three weeks without a shower. It might begin with the pain from stepping on a thistle with bare feet or half-melted snow running down one’s back as one’s so called “love” is laughing his head off.

In either case, the creation takes place and afterwards there is something where there was nothing. The strange and wonderful jump from zero to one has occurred, and although it might not feel like it at the time, there is beauty in that.

63 Do Not Disturb

do-not-disturb

It’s not for fun that I put up my sign. And no, it’s not enough for you to just be quiet, you have to be not there at all or your loud, clumsy thoughts might shatter the fragile crystals forming in my mind. Why you ask? Isn’t beauty its own reason? Are we not all enriched just by beholding? You would take that from me and the people I could share it with?

And yes, I will need that bottle of whiskey, thank you very much, and the cigars. No, you cannot take one with you. Be off with you and leave me to my books and my papers or I’ll show you how old children’s rhymes deal with the likes of you.

Is There Anybody Out There?

anybodyoutthere

In a flat, there was a radiator that wondered whether there were any others of its kind out there somewhere. It had never seen any others, but after thinking a while it became certain that if it could only sent out a message, someone would answer. When the woman who lived in the flat hung up poster with a Morse Code alphabet, it knew how to send that message. It sent knocks up through the pipes;

‘Hello,’ and after a pause, ‘hello.’

The man in the flat above happened to be an air traffic controller who had learned Morse Code better than was strictly necessary. After he had heard the first three hellos, he sent one back, knocking on the pipes.

‘Do you feel lonely too?’ answered the radiator and the man did feel lonely, so they had a long conversation afterwards.

The day after, the man did not know whether he should go to meet this new friend face to face. After a week of communication, he was afraid that he might not like what he saw, or that the person in the other end did not want to see him. After a month, it seemed ridiculous to seek the person out.

However, one day when he when down the steps, he saw a woman come out of the flat which he thought the knocking was coming from. Trying to make sure, he asked:

‘Have you heard the knocking?’

‘Oh, yeah, it’s from the radiator in my living room,’ she said, and thought that she would have to ask the landlord to do something about it because it was getting ridiculous.

‘Will you marry me?’ asked the man.

The woman blinked.

‘No thank you,’ she said and hurried down the stairs.

The man did not go to work after that. When the knocking began that evening, he did not answer and the radiator had no idea what had gone wrong.

Radiators

(Credit: Wikipedia)

(Credit: Wikipedia)

I’ve been thinking about how one could write a story about a radiator. This was the first idea I had:

 

The radiator had been cold for a long time, and it did not understand why. It could remember warmth faintly as something that filled it up with comfort and longed to feel it again. One day a family moved into the house. They turned the heat up as far as it would go. The radiator enjoyed the warmth spreading through it, and for a while it was just as comfortable as it remembered, but then it felt like it was on fire.

 

The next idea I had was about a radiator that escapes its house, goes off to see the world and ends up living in a dump with an old fridge.

The third idea will get its own post.

A Long Distance Relationship

sun

One day she looked up and there he was.

His brilliance dazzled her.

She took the first step and almost immediately after they were a couple. Or at least she meant that they were; he never answered her directly. His warmth which had made her fall in love stayed, but a month into their relationship he continued to be distant. No matter how many new dresses she bought and times she got her hair done, he did not come any closer.

She was all for not smothering each other of course, but was 8 light minutes not too far? And with all these clouds coming between them, she was beginning to doubt his commitment.

When for three rainy days she barely saw him, she put her foot down and craved a straight answer from him. He just let his light fall on her and warmed her as always, but then she noticed that he did the same for a woman on the other side of the street.

She spent a week eating ice cream with blackout drapes keeping out his brilliance.

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