amonkie

Welcome to a brand new week, Everyone! Glad to see you're still with the game....


This week's theme is going to be "Your Body & Self Awareness". With that in mind, there are two challenges this week: You can choose one, or do both, whatever muse speaks to you, using whatever writing form you wish.









Special thanks to Amnesia620 for helping me choose the topic this week

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Calling from deep in the heart, from where the eyes can't see and the ears can't hear, from where the mountain trails end and only love can go... ~~~ Three Rivers Hare Krishna

Amnesia620

Thank you, Amonkie. Glad I could help.

I'm feeling *inspired* by the very respectable poem "Oh, Captain! My Captain!"
(I mean no disrespect)

Oh Feet! My feet! Our tiresome trip was fun;
the shoes have weathered every rock, the journey we sought is done;
The seat is near, the dogs I hear, the people all exhausted,
While hollow thighs the steady heel, the laces slim and tearing:
But O hurt! hurt! hurt!
O the bleeding dye of red,
Where on the step my Foot lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
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My two bright, precious eyes,
their ability is one I hold dear,
the best two little simple spies,
every truth I see remains clear.

My sight stays sharp and stern,
both continuously work long hours,
visual lessons are theirs to learn,
all richness shown never sours.

Two portals to another time,
glossy until my one last breath,
forever regarded as sublime,
just moments before my death.

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For example, I find that a lot of college girls are barbie doll carbon copies with few differences...Sadly, they're dumb, ditzy, immature, snotty, fake, or they are the gravitational center to orbiting drama. - Amnesia620

amonkie

I updated my first entry, but write however it gets the image from your head to paper.

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Calling from deep in the heart, from where the eyes can't see and the ears can't hear, from where the mountain trails end and only love can go... ~~~ Three Rivers Hare Krishna

rat

eyes stolen, smell deadened
deafened, with nothing to taste
touch defines all life

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tecoyah

Black
Dark
Hidden
Yet I know you
Fingertips Mapping curves
Each Downy hair a signpost
Sensual Brail for this limited explorer
And Yet
I know you

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Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. - Buddha

mojodragon

To say that "all I see is darkness" would be a lie
For there is nothing to see
Even the memory of my sight has been ripped
Out of my head.

To say that "I can taste nothing" would be a lie
For I no longer know
What it means to taste
So how can I know what nothing tastes like?

To say that "I no longer smell" would be a lie
The air goes into my lungs
To keep me alive,
But for what?

To say that "I do not hear you" would be a lie
The world and sounds around me
Have died out
Leaving less than nothing

All that I am, all that I can ever aspire to be
Is what I can feel
And right now, I feel the road beneath my feet
As I travel this cold, silent world.

amonkie

Mojodragon - LOVE yours! and Amnesia620- very interesting form to O Captain! I really like it


Great start everybody! If this is your first time, JOIN IN!

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Calling from deep in the heart, from where the eyes can't see and the ears can't hear, from where the mountain trails end and only love can go... ~~~ Three Rivers Hare Krishna

ngdawg

I actually sing this to my daughter:

I love you
But your feet stink
Smell so bad that I can't think
I love you
But when you take off your shoes
It smells

ngdawg

To never hear your voice again
and feel the warmth it brings to me
To never see your face again
And see the love that's in your eyes
These I could not bear to lose
But to never feel your touch
Your strokes
The moments of skin to skin
This alone is the fear I carry

amonkie

I'm absolutely fascinated by the senses people have chosen to keep - definitely gets me thinking. Keep it up!

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Calling from deep in the heart, from where the eyes can't see and the ears can't hear, from where the mountain trails end and only love can go... ~~~ Three Rivers Hare Krishna

Strange Famous

I cant see
I cant taste
I cant hear
I cant smell
I can feel
A weight
Pressing inside of me
Pushing outwards
I disintigrate

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"Do not tell lies, and do not do what you hate,
for all things are plain in the sight of Heaven. For nothing
hidden will not become manifest, and nothing covered will remain
without being uncovered."

The Gospel of Thomas

amonkie

Back in childhood it was a game
to count the piggies on the toes
and when the floor was clean
a muddy trail of footprints
blazed a new path inside

Young hormones raging
every comment, when voiced
shoves a wide foot inside
the ever shrinking mouth
Charging on ahead
until brought to your knees

And at the end of day
A mind weary from life
takes comfort in knowing
step after step they'll make
leading the way to home.

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Calling from deep in the heart, from where the eyes can't see and the ears can't hear, from where the mountain trails end and only love can go... ~~~ Three Rivers Hare Krishna

amonkie

A mesmerizing sight to my eyes
so powerful the changes sneak in
the wind that ceased to caress
the void of sounds signaling life
the rich smell of earth evaporates
the bitter taste of dust disappears

The nothingness surrounds a glory
shining rays of amber gold and red
sprinkles of dancing light lead the eyes
all the more marvelous from no distraction

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Calling from deep in the heart, from where the eyes can't see and the ears can't hear, from where the mountain trails end and only love can go... ~~~ Three Rivers Hare Krishna

Rainyshoes

Okie doke...I went for the senses (with a brief nod to the feet near the end, LOL)...

I stare through the half-open window. To the casual observer, I am a still fixture...hardly more than an odd little piece of antique furniture...hunched over in a chair and studying the placid acreage surrounding the home. The home that, of course, will never really be "home" as much as it will simply be a very sanitary place to stop breathing, someday.

I'm fully aware that my repose is a blessing for the nursing staff, rendering me as one less problem to deal with. One less patient delusionally shrieking for a jacket to be brought to him by a wife that died twenty-six years ago. One less incontinence mess for them to clean up with a scowling face and clucked reprimands. One less trickle of spit to wipe away from the etched crevices surrounding aged lips that spoke millions of thoughts and kissed countless "I love you"s into life...yet now remain dormant, even in pain.

Not that any of it matters to them, anyway. We shriek, we shit and we drool...and, for twelve bucks an hour, they efficiently remedy the "aftershocks of life" visited upon our bodies at the most inopportune moments. There's no one around to call us "Mommy", "Daddy", "Grandma" or "Grandpa" anymore...and, pardon my sour pun, nobody really gives a shit that there isn't. But, such is life.

Or, rather...such is preparation for death.

Nevertheless, my stationary solitude makes me A Very Good Patient for the moment, though I can't help but self-consciously dab at the corners of my mouth with my handkerchief...just to be on the safe side. Vanity long since ceased to be a concern of mine many, many years ago...but I want no risk of interruption at this moment, not for any reason...so "saliva patrol" be damned. I want as little of them as they want of me right now...much less, in fact.

I have places to go, you see.

Over the years, while the cataracts slowly eroded the last of my vision, I was surprised with the most beautiful, unexpected gift from my mind as compensation for the grievous loss of myself from myself. When I could no longer see the trees as anything more than smeared blotches across the skyline, my imagination flowed in to remind me of every vein of every leaf on the maple trees in the front yard of my childhood home.

I climb those branches nearly twice a day, you know!

Although muffled, padded tones are the best my hearing aids can give me, now...I can still clearly hear the sweet, brash notes of my son's cries as I held him outside of my womb for the first time so long ago. My inability to taste is probably quite fortunate, given the sterile fare served around here...but all is not lost. The razor perception of a six year old brain precisely recorded every last tangy mouthful of my mother's lemon meringue pie and I can even feel the delightful "sugar ache" in my jaws at the first bite. Likewise, I am unable to smell the cloying scent of the pine cleaner the nurses use, yet my late husband's cologne gently teases the corners of my mind where I rest my head against his chest as we dance at our wedding. Losses? What losses? I am richly overwhelmed by the sensations of a lifetime lived and paid in full.

My only remaining sense...that of touch...alerts me to the soft tickle of a tear that has escaped my eye.

With withered hands, I quickly swipe it away, lest it invite an intrusion...not now. Please, please not now. I'm dancing with my groom. Isn't he handsome? I'm nuzzling my newborn and I'm eating homemade pie. Would you like a slice, too? I'm climbing trees and riding a bicycle for the first time and I'm smelling the rain and I'm fussing to clasp a string of pearls around my daughter's neck on her graduation day and I'm fussing to smooth my father's tie as he lays in his casket and....and....no...don't look at these twisted, gnarled feet that walked thousands of miles to harvest these memories. I AM going on a journey...look into my eyes...peer into my soul!

And then just...please...leave.

I have places to go, you see.

amonkie

Rainyshoes - I am amazed at how you've jumped in and ran! Thanks for sharing!

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Calling from deep in the heart, from where the eyes can't see and the ears can't hear, from where the mountain trails end and only love can go... ~~~ Three Rivers Hare Krishna

tecoyah

Rainyshoes......you show great talent.

Thank you for sharing it with us

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Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. - Buddha

Rainyshoes

Thank you (where's the embarrassed, blushing smilie?) And thank you for providing this form of challenge to goad the muse a little bit

I usually walk away from my writings for awhile, then later revisit them for further review. I'll spare you the disembowling self-critique I did on the mechanics of this piece, but I really must apologize for my acute case of "ellipsis-itis" throughout it.

So.......for......that.......I'm......terribly......sorry.....dear.....readers

xepherys

I long for sense that are no longer mine. To feel her breath upon my neck or smell her sweet perfume I'd surely pay with all my gold. To hear her lulling voice or taste her lips I'd surely pay with all my soul. But solace comes from the look of love in her eye. Like a great tide of emotion, memories flooding my body, the sight of her puts my spirit at ease.

nofnway

Far have they traveled, by sea and by land.
Mile after mile over concrete or sand.
Long do they burden through day and through night.
Bustle and shuffle the left and the right.
Through inclement weather, in canvas, in leather
wrapped in vinyl fantastic, in rubber, in plastic
Let's all make stand
For the place where you land
A round of applause for your feet

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"Iron rusts with disuse, stagnant water loses its purity and in cold water freezes. Even so does inaction sap the vigor of the mind"
Leonardo Da Vinci

Hain

I cannot see a beach of sand
Or feel it's grains beneath my feet
I cannot taste her kiss,
Or smell her faint aroma
I know that these things:
Invisible--hidden--stolen
From me grace my body
All I yearn is to remember her
Sitting upon the pier, a toe in the water
But what is my memory?
Is that blue?
Was that seaweed?
Is that lake the sea?
Was that water?
I only can hear the words that still have worth-
I love you.

And the water sways along the shore... and I know she stands beside me, watching the sunset for me.

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////\\// IRONSKY.NET \\//\\\\

Hain

Amonkie, RainyShoes! Great stuff. These are real good. I wish I have more time to spend on writing!

Hain

The senses he lacks only give him strength. Only is there power to be found from their loss.

He cannot hear the evil that he fights
--Hear their pitiful screams as they beg for mercy
"What mercy did you show to those innocent!"

He cannot taste the blood of the evil he destroys
--Taste that vileness which courses through their veins
"You aren't worth the flesh--'Tis wasted upon you!"

He cannot smell the fear of these fleeing monsters
--Smell the repulsing stench of the crimes
"You aren't ready to pay for your sin?"

He can't feel the skin he pulls to draw the monster to his eye level
--Feel the skin give way to his powerful grip
"Look at me!" He will not feel for a creature that is less human than he--committing acts against other humans.

He can see everything that he lacks. Their heart beats ripple red shadows. Their screams form rivers of hate. Their fear makes ghostly mists. As he draws them near with his large, red, reptilian grip, the heat of his body forces the fear in their sweat. They hover above the ground by the fist that is drawn from the darkness. As he walks into the light, they see the Gargoyle as he truly is.

"I hate you monsters--having the human faces. While I, the real monster, have the human heart... I put fear back into you monsters of this world."

And the humans of this world never know that they are safe from this seeming beast.
It is the ones that did not feel before the destruction against another that must fear the wrath of the Gargoyle without feeling.

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////\\// IRONSKY.NET \\//\\\\

ClostGoth

Shadows elongate across my soul
Barren splashes of rainbow hues
My eyes will never behold

Honeyed drops of virgin dew
Slide slowly through barren fields
My tongue no longer tastes

Warmth of satin wrapped steel
Imbedded within my body
Precious connection lost

Sweet cloying scent of roses
Draped across well tilled garden
Symphony of scent no longer

For how could I ever live and not know
The crash of Bach, the lull of Beethoven
The pull of melody with my bow across the strings

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I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I intended to be.
--Douglas Adams

Yukimura

They do itch and they do burn.
For free air they surely yearn.
But of freedom they'll not yet learn.
Half a tournament gone.

They do hurt and they do ache.
In tight shoes in heat they bake.
In their sweat they swim the lake.
Wrestling goes on and on.

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A smooth surface.
It's so warm.
Quivers under my touch.
Returns my embrace.
A love so sweet.
Who needs sight.
My heart sees her.
Who needs sound.
Her song calls me.
Who needs smell.
Her aroma entraps me.
Who needs taste.
Her sugar's so sweet.

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Maybe the answer is in the very light reflected off our blades. Maybe that's what it means to be this creature known as samurai.

Wolfwood

Toe 1: *nudges his buddy who sits next to him*
"Hey, you feel that?"
Toe 2: *answers in a sleepy tone*
"Feel what?"
Toe 1: "That breeze. I think the sock is off!"
Toe 2: "Now that you mention it, yeah, I do. It's nice"
Toe 1: "Sure is! We've been stuck under that thing all day."
Toe 5: "I feel it too!"
Toe 1: "Shut the fuck up, Five! I wasn't talking to you."
Toe 5: ....
Toe 1: *turns back to Toes 2*
"Jesus H. Christ that guy's annoyin'!"
Toe 2: "Tell me about it. D'you see what he did today during lunch?"
Toe 1: "Nah, I was busy trying to itch the other leg. What'd he do?"
Toe 2: "Well, you know that broad the body works with?"
Toe 1: "Yeah..."
Toe 2: "Well, it was eating lunch wit' 'er and 5 kept trying to reach over and brush her leg. I mean, what the fuck! If he keeps pulling shit like that, d'em hand is gonna come down and give us toes a hair cut, if'n you know what I mean."
Toe 1: "Yeah, yeah I do. God, the last time they pulled that shit I fucking got an ingrown- and that shit hurts. They have no fucking clue what they're doing."
Toe 2: "Yeah..."
Toe 5: "I liked my hair cut last time!"
Toe 1: "I though I told you to shut the fuck up, Five!"

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My hands tighten around the handle of my sword. I can feel every fiber of that coarse fabric used to wrap it. My other hand grasps the sheath, it's smooth texture pin the fluttering wings of my stomach's butterflies. I pull hard on the handle and feel the blade protest. It won't budge at first, but with enough force I feel blade come and the sun reflect off its shimmering blade; my face is warm with those rays. I run my hand down the back of the blade, I swear I can feel its back muscles quiver in anticipation for the coming fight. I swear I can feel it ready to jump out of my hands and lunge into the nearest enemy. I take my other hand and extend a single finger. Cautiously I search for the sharp side of the blade, I feel it glint and shimmer- a sort of wink, letting me know it's ready. It is only tapered, whetted metal, but it feels like it could cut air in half. I wonder what the enemy feels, when he is that air?

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We're nothing like God. Not only do we have limited powers, but sometimes we're driven to become the devil himself.