I sit in a room
Where my future
Is not
Where my future
Is in a book
White spine black letters
Can I stop now
Please
I would like to read that book
Until the end of time
But a story cannot be told
Only lived
I am just a name
Not a story
Maybe not even that
Not a sound
Not a letter
Nothing
Something
Quite terrible
Perhaps the last page was burnt
Many times ago
The ash and wax
Stick to sound
To letters
Insensible
Indecipherable
Misplaced
If I choose the lock
I will write a paper key
If I choose the flame
It will never stop
There is no choice
Not really
My feet stand in a flood of words
Shuffled up like bilge
Picking
So hard picking out
Something new
That book cannot be left in the room
On the shelf
It moves
Behind me
Unknown
Familiar
Already told.
Your imagery is bold and fresh, as always Jae. Your message is distressing, distressful. Discomfort, unhappiness, hopelessness seem woven throughout. If only the story can be completed with the flourish of a new pen on crisp, clean paper.
ReplyDeleteThank you Kim..and that was the second cheerier version..I remember the smell and feel of fresh paper..the click of the lid of a new pen..maybe it can be found again..thankyouthankyou..
DeleteYour words always transport me to a new world that you create ... awesome !!!
ReplyDeleteThank you Green Speck..but always hold onto your return ticket..it is not a world to stay very long in..
DeleteBeautifully crafted look at what is too often a writer's personal hell. We write best of what we know best.
ReplyDeleteThank you Josie..what you know + a little flight of fancy..just a little..
Deleteyes, I agree, we are probably only actors on the stage. There is an ending, as there is a beginning, it is all as it should be. I like this book you talk about. hugs
ReplyDeleteThank you Annell..at first I put in the title..but maybe it is best that the words can be..whatever we choose..mind you I looked at a review of the book and it said more than what was said in the room..if that makes sense! x
DeleteYour writing this week was as crisp as a frosty morning. Reading reports is always a disappointment as they miss so much that should be there, like opening up the biscuit barrel and finding all your favorites gone.
ReplyDeleteIt's many years since anything has been written down (accurately at least)..maybe I could learn something about crafting fiction though ;) thank you OldEgg.. It's soggy and chilly here..biscuits are the perfect remedy..custard creams and tea..Alice would like..
ReplyDelete"...a room where my future is not."
ReplyDeleteHow many of us, I have to wonder, have been in that room too?
Too many I should think Berowne..thank you..
DeleteI especially like the idea that a story cannot be told only lived. That resonates with me as truth! And I hope, in some sense, we have control of our own story.
ReplyDeleteThank you Mary...it is a truth..maybe when the outside story is so unfathomable we can at least control the words we use to make sense of it..
DeleteBut you are a story! We are all stories, meta-stories, since as writers, we ourselves are composed of stories told and yet to be told.
ReplyDeleteI love the image of a paper key. Keys can lock us in or lock others out. What would a paper key do?
Thank you Ann..a Grim (sic) fairy tale..as I am not so wise as you I think the paper key in my hands does both..but I guess each storyteller can use the key as they choose..thank you..
DeleteWhere’s Uncle Bill in all of this? Intimidating his neighbors in a colonial fashion? Cutting them off in mid sentence literally? Shooting cans of paint in front of a canvas? Shotgun art. Good stories. You’ve some good ones too, chapters in The Book of Jae. Toothless Joe probably knows that as well.
ReplyDeleteDear Ms Z you must have been with me as I walked in the real world bilge..there was tiny boat washed up called Uncle Bill (always thought ships had girl names)..I smiled and thought I am not paid to listen to this shit...really shouldn't smile nicely and stand under the tree with a tin can on my head..not when I have a gun loaded and ready to fire..words that is..Jae can't afford bullets..toothless joe knows that..thankyouthankyou..
DeleteI love these images. A puddle of words at your feet, having escaped. Trying to scrape them up and put them back into an order. I've been thinking a lot about keys lately, how I have layers, which certain people get keys to certain parts. A paper key is to be treasured if given...
ReplyDeleteyou made me smile Dandelion Girl..it struck me that the puddle was a bit like the character in Little Britain who pees like a racehorse in the post office queue..not perhaps in line with your comment but my noodle does wonder! A paper key is certainly a special key..perhaps we can all hope to be given one...thank you for your kind words...virtual treasure..
ReplyDeleteI like this one..especially being in a place which does not hold your future and the flood of words at your feet.
ReplyDeleteI'm just a name
not a story
Maybe not even that
You have been intercepting my psyche
I see a great freedom in being nothing.Nihilism has a certain attraction for wandering noodle heads..Those who are recognised as something are nothing either.Except they miss out on the freedom bit.(Tee hee!)
It is good to know we share brainwaves Rallentanda..being nothing can be a tee hee moment..as long as it is a choice..cheers to all noodle heads x
DeleteThe image of the flood of words that surrounds is a sharp one... the struggle to make something new of our lives was so beautifully captured here!
ReplyDeleteThank you very much Abigail..the perception of the flood as being sharp is very..sharp..
DeleteI am just a name, not a story. I have a hunch that you are an interesting story, Jae! Thanks for sharing!
ReplyDelete