extract from the poem Koi by John Burnside All afternoon we've wandered from the pool to alpine beds and roses ...
The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
Hello everyone who follows David King (My Father). On behalf of the family this post is to let you know that Dad sadly passed away, peacefu...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
This post has in a sense been handed to me by two or three responses to my post On not getting it. In the course of discussing how a reader...
Tuesday, 10 April 2012
Mirabella, White Witch in Embryo
The feeling never left her
not throughout her childhood
that she'd have to walk on eggshells all her life.
Her mother's stress was at the back of it.
One wrong word or one false move
and mum was off again.
that at the moment she became
a newly-hatched probationer,
she would resolve
to ride on the damned eggshells for a change.
Arranging eggshell transport was a cinch:
Page 5, The Witches' Handbook -
already covered in her training -
but controlling levitating eggshells... now
that was very different. We're speaking here
of Volume II, Spells Intermediate.
Almost at once
the landscape had become
a mass of broken eggshells.
by the air's low hum -
Earth's magnetism in the service of
a trainee witch -
Darkness, her dog,
quick to sense his mistress
less than fully in control,
let his pain be known,
and howled incessantly.
Marabella, to her lasting credit,
refused to take the short cut, and
remained a white witch to the end.
Not Brilliant White, perhaps,
no dazzling gloss to blast your eyes,
more your eggshell finish.
Image prompt by Tess Kincaid at Magpie Tales
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)
A wonderful story woven!
I like the story you've spun.
Gday Dave, i am fully discombombulated by this (love that new word!) , give my regards to Marabella, the great bear tamer, and tell her i think the egg finish gloss is the best of all. Dis- comb- om - ulate (elate?)
Dis- dark, the underworld, com- communications, bomb- an explosion- ulate( elate), very excited. Fantastic !
ha i like this dave...fine story telling and perhaps staying that way in the end, not quite white but egg shell is not a bad lot...smiles.
This witchery stuff is tougher than meets the eye. A well crafted story...enjoyed. Vb
I had a mother like this...and learned to ride the eggshells...
Very very clever. I particularly like the role of the dog here.
I think it would work without the prompt as well.
I'm glad your blog is back up! I don't know why I couldn't get here this a.m. k.
I am with Tess on this....lived that.....learned to "ride the egg shells" as well. A unique and wonderful write Dave!
The scope of your poems Dave is, I feel, getting more and more vast and surprising...in this case these eggshells floating, they baffle and allure...and Marabella or Mirabella, this name so strangely Italian!
Nice storytelling. Great ending.
A gem. Thank you.
Really interesting and intriguing poem and so much originality, Dave. I particularly liked:
"a trainee witch -
Darkness, her dog,
quick to sense his mistress"
The eggshell is a nice touch too. The gem is in the Storytelling. Always is.
controlling levitating eggshells sounds like a whole premise in a sci-fi series
I don't know if it was the image or your poem - maybe both, more probably the image -, but the mataphysical painter Dalí came to my mind as soon as I entered your Blog.
Do you know Mirabella means wonderful?, for she really is a wonder, poor girl, so discombobulated - what a word!-, hehehe!
The terrible mum and her victim, her daughter: you have painted the situation very well in words; the female bird couldn't grow, couldn't fly by herself, so her egg had to levitate to feel some kind of freedom.
Her Darkness howling looks more human than the witch and her mother.
I love the brilliant end with the eggshell finish for I still can see/read, thanks!
This is the cleverest thing ever! I adore this!
Yes, when life gives one egg shells to walk on (as you wisely note) one must learn to float or fly upon them.
These days, comprehending the wheres and whys of my own personality and choices, I refuse to cry, though I do allow myself MUSH leeway in my days (wounded veteran that I am). No medals. No blazing white, a pleasant small-ish bloggarden that friends visit. Glad I survived and thanks for the spontaneous therapy.
Your kind visit adds an esteemed & irreplaceable element to my day.
Warm Aloha from Honolulu
Incredibly fine and with seamless reality tucked neatly in the cracks.
I feel like that I had a woman like this mother in my mind...
I too had/have a mother like this to learn to ride and flow with rather than fight... yet sometimes...! This is a fine and insightful piece.
Thanks for this.
Hi, a warm welcome to my blog, and sincere thanks for the comment.
Many thanks for a really fun response. Good to have you visiting.
Pure white... stretching it a bit, I thought! Thanks.
Good to have your thoughts. My thanks for your visit.
Yup, I imagine you would. Thanks for saying.
Ah, well, the blog... it disappeared from the face of blogland as I was pasting to it. I contacted Blogger
who said they had deleted it because they had detected suspicious activity on it. I think they simply lost it, because I also lost my Gmail and all my emails. They needed my telephone number. I gave it to them. They didn't like it, said it was not a valid number. What I was most miffed about was the laid back attitude - they thanked me for my message, but said they would only come back to me if they had news or needed further info. To give them their due, though, they did restore it all after two or three hours.
Thanks for the interest.
Welcome. Thanks for this response, good to have you visiting.
Mirabella, the a a pure typo. Many thanks for these very kind and helpful words. Much appreciated.
A warm welcome and my sincere thanks for your visit and comment.
The Elephant's Child
And much thanks to you for your always positive comments.
Really good to have you aboard. thank you so much for your comment.
Could be. You never know, I might just develop it that way!
Daliesque... yes, I can see that and I like it! I didn't know that the name meant "Wonderful". That I regard as a bonus! And I am over the moon with your further exegesis. Wonderful!
Thanks so much!
MUSH leeway. I like that and shall remember it - I know it will come in useful some way down the line. I too am VERY glad you survived! I find blogging to be great therapy. I f I have helped in some small way I am ecstatic. Every blessing for the future.
Another fine comment that I like very much. Thank you so much!
Guess that's the best place to have them!
Well, thank you for such an encouraging comment. Really good to have.
i like it too... a lot
I can empathise with your witch. It feels like I've been walking on egg shells all my life too!!
Your poetic tale with it's fragile edges and stressful pursuits, has a warm sensitivity that is very engaging. Thank you for sharing this Dave and I hope you are enjoying a happy spring. =D
Dave ... what an incredible imagination you have! Beautifully crafted for this week's Magpie!
Oh, what fun! You are a wonderful storyteller (there is a "solidness" --for lack of a better word-- and empathy behind the humor that gives this real depth. Thank you.
Great lines here, such as "the landscape had become a mass of broken eggshells". And the finish is sublime.
Post a Comment