As an attempt to vary the content in The Cove, and to share the words of bloggers I appreciate, here is the first of a possible series of stories from a writer I mentionned several times in my blog, and dear friend too; Notthedane56.
Notthedane56’s blog is on pause for the moment, but you still can find many fiction stories, and poetry pieces well worth the detour… I’ll be more than glad to give you links to my favorite posts, if you’d like to read more of his work.
I leave comments open, but just keep in mind that this is his work and not mine…
My words. Just a thought. A seed. Nurtured by my thoughts. A leaf appears.My words climbing. The towers high with slippery sides. My words like tendrils, grasping and clinging. Filled with hope. Filled with angst.
My words being warmed by the sun. My thoughts. My intentions. My use of the language, both good and bad. Enticing and delighting. Words made up of harsh vowels, guttural, gasping. Words that hurt. Words that once spoken, never being forgotten, never forgiven.
My words entwining. Climbing up the garden walls, stretching, growing. The sun warms my thoughts, my mind roams the valleys and meadows. Searching for the right words, the correct phrase, the stars circle out of sight, the moon rises and falls, the words dim in the evening light.
The top is never reached, you know? No amount of words, individual letters, the thought, the hope that all of the words, in every language could express what I feel, what you feel. We use our words like swords, jabbing and pulling away, stabbing the life out of what I really wanted to say. Never having the words exit my mouth, never to be heard before. Before.
Ivy entwining. A helix. Its tendrils. The thought of never-ending, never going back again. Climbing the spiral staircase. The windows reflect the sunlight. Nurturing again.
My words warmed by the sun. My thoughts. My intentions.