His tiny lungs greedily swallowed up as much oxygen as his wiry frame could handle before disappearing under the froth and steam of the mighty ocean that was bearing down on the toes of sleepless shoreline. His legs struggled to maintain a foothold as spent seashells pricked at his toes like miniature soldiers with bayonets and fine sand burned coldly at his heels. He found a steady rhythm with the gaping sway, opening his eyes now to ruminate on the world under his feet, a world stolen by water.
A clench of seaweed danced back and forth like a milksop scarecrow, its roots tethered to a foreign planet that lived a million miles beneath every lonesome foot of separation with the floor of a deep, blue sky. Stones the color of vermillion and smoke, eburnean, peat and umber pocked the roam of invisible footprints whose songs were forged in the calamity of romance and death.
He lay his eyes upon the shimmering platinum sky above and wished never to return to the world of sound, preferring the embrace of silence instead. He prayed that Jules Verne’s restless imagination might write him onto a page of fiction from which he could breathe in this foreign language until the sun lost its way. And that the sea might fetch his mortal bones and remand him to the mighty Gods of the deep. And that his soul might venture like a wild butterfly, feasting sweetly on the mysteries while hurtling through all those less traveled places made famous by rock star poets.
To nowhere and to everything. He prayed.
That gave me shivers!
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Good shivers, I hope.
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Absolutely! I love deliciously creepy. Man, I am shivering again. So intense. I loved it.
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I just happen to specialize in deliciously creepy pieces, so that’s a very good thing eh?
Thank you muchly Pam
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Same here quiall- good shivers
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Thank you Prior.
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B,
Holy….
I am stunned into silence with this. Like Pam, shivers.
Where did that come from? Jesus, that was brilliant writing. I’ll stop before I turn into a blithering idiot.
You’ve the soul of a poet.
Q
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Q
You know what? Not sure where it came from myself. It just hit me and I sat and wrote it out as it spoke to me.
Admittedly, I feel the blithering idiot if I try to explain it, LOL. Poetry, as you know, just comes to you. And for me, it doesn’t come often, so when it does visit. I listen.
Why thank you sweetness.
B
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Well do let the muse hit you whenever it want to because this was amazing.
No need to explain. Just don’t push it away when it comes calling. Thank God you do listen.
Truly gorgeous writing.
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Poetry is always here and there, don’t know why that is.
Yeah, I was ready when it called.
Thank you, thank you and most of all, thank you.
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For me, too. It, errr… is what it is š
I’m so very glad you were. When these things strike, it is best to let them in and use them straight away. Waiting for later is usually good enough to say too bad, so sad.
Thank YOU for sharing your brilliance. I like surrounding myself with peeps like you as it only helps me better myself.
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And yanno . . . at the end of the day . . .
Strike while the iron is hot. I think that’s how the saying goes. Went. And no way I would have been able to revisit the moment if I’d put this in draft. Thankfully it didn’t take long.
That is worth a MUAH!
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He he he… indeed š
That is exactly how it goes. And no way would it have gone as smoothly, as you well know when you start something, leave and try to go back, that flow is more of a trickle or Chinese water torture.
I’ll take your MUAH and double it up with a MWAH!
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š
It’s horrible. You never recapture that flow in the same way once you leave it be for any length of time.
Two MUAH!s are better than one!
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š
Don’t I know it. Has happened more than once. Now? When it hits, I go with it. If it’s just an idea and I’m walking, I record it!
MWAH! šš
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š
You have to, otherwise . . . pfffft!
MUAH!
šš
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š
Exackery!
ššš
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š
Glad you get it.
ššš
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š
You know I do.
ššš
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I do.
ššš
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šššš
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You rock.
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Long as you roll.
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Poifect.
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š
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š
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OMG, you could have a whole blog of this stuff. It’s like a car week, but horny. Or maybe better do a podcast. Call it Yeah, We Got a Room. Or Blogger Sexy Time. Or to steal from Shitt’s Creek: Ew, David!
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You’re on to something.
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Holy crapola, Batman. How and the heck you can come up with these words is beyond me. Absolutely brilliant. Not only do you top if off with Jack Johnson, I have this same song for a post that is already in the queue.
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Cincy,
It just came to me and I followed its directive is all. I love this song, but hey . . I dig most of his stuff so there’s that.
Thank you muchly, and kindly, and I look forward to your return next week(ish).
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Back on Saturday. … and off the top of my head, I think with a different Jack Johnson song.
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Bonus round goodness!
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Just saw a list that they have #3 and #18
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I take Sewell or trade down and get more picks and then build the line and add weapons on the offense. Not sure what’s happening with Tua. Maybe we coax another OC into Miami to work with him and give it one more run.
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Chilling, my man. Leaves so much unexplained – always the best way. Great work!
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I believe it is, PM. Thank you.
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Great stuff, Pilgrim. The line that stopped my heart and sent me into a slackjaw trance, “the mighty ocean that was bearing down on the toes of sleepless shoreline.”
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Sheriff,
The wandering whispers of wherever after came upon me and held me hostage for a spell. And when I came to, I had it done.
Muchas gracias amigo.
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Still great stuff.
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I am always so appreciative of you.
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Ditto on the poetic language. One is transported to that beach and headspace. More please.
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When the muse strikes, Imma serve it up.
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Hey there – your muse sure flooded like a soft clean breeze with this one.
The opening almost forty word sentence stopped me and I sat up. Then halfway thru (really I paused to hear the song and mentally chew
That song (which is like a modern slow dance slightly grinding kinda jam in one way – so smooth) and then finished reading and really feel all enriched.
Well done
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Interestingly, it wasn’t the purpose initially. To break from my regular stops and starts. But upon re-reading it, I knew I had to leave the sentence as it was.
Thank you Prior.
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And ithat sentence almost had a Steinbeck vibe. Maybe that is because around noon today I did a slow live reading (virtually) or breakfast and so Steinbeck is in my mind – but you grabbed the senses the way he does – but in your own style and it had that originality that just seeps – the song is going on a playlist
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Mighty fine compliment and thank you humbly for it.
And that song, so good.
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Thanks to you also amigo
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š
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I actually own a Neruda book, some collected poems. His famous Odes to Salt etc. are in there. I only recall one line, but I love it: “Las grandes verdes ballenas del mar…” The great green whales of the earth. Referring to the way sandia (watermelon) appear as whales in the field. What imagination and power of the poetic pen. Talk about The Muse! I vaguely recall the film Il Postino (The Postman) was about him and has a tragic backstory. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Il_Postino:_The_Postman.
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You’re way too cool for school.
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Nah. If that were true, I’d have, well, I don’t know, because I’m not cool. I just had that one book and mostly learned Spanish and then never use it. Now I’m craving whale blubber with watermelon. Just kidding, I was reading about the Inuit diet and wishing it were summer and hot enough that watermelon were in season. But I digress. You’re the cool one with all your hep cat slang and stuff!
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Watermelon . . I can’t stop thinking about watermelon now.
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You’re welcome. There’s always jolly ranchers, but really no substitute.
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