Going in Circles

circles Going in Circles

They’d start at Point A and end up at Point Z

It wasn’t the usual predictable zigzag routine.

She would turn left; he would turn right. No matter which way he went, she kept him in sight.

He’d see a bird in the air when nothing was there.

She’d touch the back of a chair, the burden to bear.

Of words written in madness, intertwined all about.

Too often the knotting just led to a shout.

From Point Far to Point Within

The dance continued with its inward spin.

Dig shallow, dig deep

As the Thief stole sleep.

Folded Foils

foil flower

FFoil Flora

She kept the tattered books because she knew the stories so well

They picked her up whenever she fell.

The plotting, the plundering

Got her through the lightening and thundering.

The worlds created let her escape

Through Secret Gardens or with a musketeer’s cape.

What fragments of foil she could collect

She would reconnect

Into flowers and swords

Tucked in between words

So when by chance there was a window sill or shelf

She could unfold the garden and blades she made for her elf.

Escape

escapeEscape

Robinson Astaire didn’t have a care

As the bus ride got him there

From Point A to Point B

A chance to see the whole city

On the far side of the lake

His own rendering he would take

Of the mountains afar

And the Needle, its top light a star

Somewhere in the hustle and bustle

There were quiet parks where the leaves would rustle

But that would have to wait another day

For today was his time to look toward the bay.

Dancing Eight-Step

8th floor steps Dancing Eight-Step

Ocho, samane, e-walu, acht

Wyth, ara, otto. ocht,  

So were the numbers recited in sing-song voice

The first of many a linguistic choice.

The melody fit his favorite little ditty

As he loved to walk in the rain in the city.

He remembered the movies of long ago

And for a moment, wanted to be a little rebel colonel.

Upstairs, downstairs, clickety-clack

Concrete, metal, shingles, he’d give a whack.

Tapping on everything here or there

So were the moves of Robinson Astaire

Cradling

infinity bowl

Cradling

He remembered the story in the old testament about the oil container that never emptied. How the mother and child had enough for them and the guest they had taken in.

He remembered the story of David versus Goliath and why there were three stones.

He remembered the story of the stone soup and wished he had some now.

He remembered the chicken soup and rice and where the wild things were. What happened after the accident – well, that was all a blur.

But amidst the rubble of the looted store, one unbroken, plain bowl on the floor. He cupped it with his tiny hands, this treasure to behold. Whatever the limited use, the scarce resources, he’d dream of more than gold.

Of what remained and what was lost, he was somewhere in between. But once he’d find a decent shelter, he’d allow himself time to dream

Betwixt

BoundBetwixt

Betwixt the pages of the book most brown

Perdita Hermione Denke’s thoughts can be found

Of the dragon eggs meant to be

And of many more a mystery.

Though not entirely obsessed

She is easily distressed

By the bombardment, bashing boldness of snags

That bully from her sleep and drags

Her in pursuit of the meaning

Of whatever fragment she once was dreaming.

Arrows, Boffins, Castles, and Digits

Elves, Fairies, Gnomes and Hobbits.

In the chaos, there is order

In the maze that is before her.

 

It Begins…

March 2014 clean 106Aerie

The nest once belonged to the eagles, three

Until the storm took down the strong oak tree.

The mighty nest came to rest on the ledge below.

Perdita Hermione Denke dared to reach for the center

Of the mighty nest now abandoned

Hoping, convinced the new occupants were better.

Never mind her fear of heights,

Never mind the frequent fights,

Never in her mind did she give up her rights

In knowing that dragons flew throughout the night

And swooped into homes as fairies could

Bestowing charms upon the good.

Of the bad, removed the curses they had

And defended the weak from the evil, strong.

No, Perdita Hermione Denke knew the lies about dragons were completely wrong.

In this aerie, about to be born, just as evening gave way to morn

Would be a dragon she could call her own

And so would begin the greatest adventure ever known.

2014-Participant-Twitter-Header-2

So begins the Camp NaNo April 2014 adventure: Diary of Dreams.

A

Today’s snippet is brought to you by the letter “A.”

Zephyr

a-to-z-letters-zZephyr

Gone were the uniforms of svelte learners draped over straight backs and squared shoulders, replaced by long, dark coats with many buttons, concealing the casual attire of the entrusted, elected educators of the emerging term. The trio of silhouettes against the rising sun over the horizon had, yet hadn’t changed in in the old one’s mind.

     “Now it begins….Professors,” Jalem whispered to the men on either side of her, her heart racing at the responsibility of guiding the students through the quagmire of insanity and towards Quinton’s core teachings.

      Desmon smiled, hands gripping the solid edge of the wall that dropped all the way down to the water’s depths below. The clamoring of footfalls, the shouts, taunts, greetings and laughter rose to a crescendo as a group of teens and pre-teens ran towards the building, energetic, nervous, open to a world of possibilities. “Here’s to building the future.”

      This environment, with its steady and sure pace similar to the one left behind, had some comfort to it for Allen. Finding that sliver of freedom and hope to enjoy, confident that they could logically lead this group away from the madness that could lead to more massacres, he hoped by Quinton’s strength, they could succeed.

     They stood to their full height and enjoyed the gentle breeze caressing their faces.

Yomin Youth

a-to-z-letters-yThe beauty of Ella and Alle Yomin is not their near eternal youth but their youthful enthusiasm and hope about the worlds they have lived in. Over the years, they had taken in many of the lost –  found the paths for some, lost some others. Even though they know the truth of Atkinson’s childhood and the circumstances that led him to where they had called home, neither Alle nor Ella saw reason to shatter the young man’s dreams; their final hope.

They would lay their lives for Allen or anyone in their circle. While they know the worst is yet to come, they prepare for the best, aware of just how horrible the various wars over time can become.

Whether they will see peace in their lifetime, or better still, see their son and his generation experience that joy is a goal that has kept them living for so long.

Xenolith

a-to-z-letters-xXenolith

Jalem kept score of the debates, wondering how long it would take for both ‘opponents’ to realize they were more alike than they cared to admit. True, she had the advantage of knowing something intimate about Desmon and Allen, secrets she’d keep until the end. Given the true strengths beyond the masks they wore, she expected to live a long, long time.

Maybe that was why Jalem wasn’t surprised by the bonding ceremony, a foolish hope she had even before the revelations in secret. She couldn’t define – then or now – what it was that made each man a relative outsider to the community, yet fitting in seamlessly so for safety’s sake. If Desmon knew the truth about Allen, or vice-versa, then neither friend needed to worry about punishment from the magistrates.

Yet Jalem saw the power behind their combined talents, an opportunity of throwing fire with the rain. She would only have to steer them like the winds that blew over the coastal waters, guiding defensive learning with an empathetic soul. They could succeed, guarding the next generation from the trappings of twilight. Maybe.