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Wednesday
February 15, 2012
12:01am EST


  >> Book >> Arts >> ID #1197828  |   Show DetailsPrinter Friendly Page Tell A Friend
Seeking Elora
An indie novelist muses about writing, society, and the arts.
Rated:
13+
by
Avg Rating: (14)
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Entry #664572, added on 08-21-09 @ 11:18 am EDT
   Entry Access Restriction: None.
Wandering Thoughts at StarbucksEntry #664572
I had an hour the other day between where I'd been and where I was going, and no book with me. Not even a notebook. So I parked in front of one building and walked down to the next, a craft store, browsing for something to fill my time. With a brand new blank sketch pad and two hardnesses of charcoal pencils (and a box of erasable colored pencils that turned out to be unsharpened and therefore unusable on this adventure), I returned to the other building, ordered a Cafe Mocha, and sat in the front corner, by the window, at a little round table, and unwrapped my goodies.

I had no idea what to put in it, what to sketch or write to keep my hands and brain busy for an hour -- nearly an hour with some of the time being used in the store -- and it didn't matter. I started with one of the pencils and wrote what I was thinking. The page filled with seemingly useless thoughts, possible story ideas or character sketches (incomplete). And I flipped the page to the next.

This time I sketched. What started as a small sailboat didn't look like that so it become some type of castle. Why? No idea. And then a piece of a dream from the night before burst into my thoughts and I wrote down a quote it reminded me of:

"A scream is just that, a noise, and not music."
C.G. Jung


I sketched a "cloud" around it. The castle sits above the clouded quote. To its side, I scribbled what made me think of the quote.

Below, I allowed the thoughts to merge and it came out as:

I heard a scream.
But it wasn't a scream.
Not like a real scream
not human.

In the midst of the night
fast asleep
It pierced my soul
a single note
from a dying instrument.

Untouched
TOO LONG

Untouched too long
left to dwell alone, locked in silence
in screaming silence

"My strings are taut, ready
for plucking, for love, for soul
to pour out
just waiting"

A scream from a soul ... waiting ...
to release, and be released.

LKH 16 Aug 09


It was formatted, indented at just the right places, which I can't do here. And there are 2 other quick sketches.

Maybe I'll scan it. And share.


© Copyright 2009 Voxxylady (UN: voxxylady at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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