Thanks to Bikurgirl for hosting #100WordWednesdays.
The high school drama teacher, Mr. Elf, decided the school would peform a modern English version of “The Canturbury Tales.” Vernon was recruited to help paint the set and he would’ve been pleased to paint the entire set alone; however, he had to share creative control with Stacy who was also a ‘so-called’ gifted artist. Much fighting occurred.
The day before the performance the extras hung the scenery. Mr. Elf was shocked to see exactly half of the set painted in a superb realistic manner while the other half was rendered using fantastic painterly strokes in the style of impressionist painters. The set was discussed enormously by the audience at all three performances and neither Vernon or Stacy will speak to each other to this day.
I considered the colour red. How I’m equally attracted and repelled by it. How I pass by a red v-neck sweater in the right shade, but mix my acrylic colours, blend them until my instincts say stop; stop sign red. No wait . . . a bright cool startling red appears on my canvas. I think this is passion and passion is the boldest red. I think of how I not only crave to paint in vivid red, but in many vivid colours and textures. How I trace the feeling of layered paints with my fingers, and hunger for other colours with my eyes – blue, green, and purple. Though I adore all these colours, my favourite paintings are all in red.
As with my love for sexy heels, which I adore in red too. If red is passion, what more can I say about women and sensuality then red shoes. They’re expression and fierceness. Like Kelly Picklers song “Red High Heels” — “I’m about to show you just how missing me feels, in my red high heels . . .” Red for revenge, red for moving on, red for love. But I hate red for love, it’s memory is sickening. He looked good in that colour – almost the best.
Yet red is so many things more. It’s anger, hate, rage, hurt, demons dreaming — the beast inside who does not die. Red is sinful, delicious, and deadly. It’s sex and power; a primilness. It’s royalty and blood, red blood spilled for in the body it’s blue (hence bluebloods). I love how classic red is — nothing more classic then a cat eye and red Bridget Bardot lips. Nothing as classic as red Mustang.
I don’t wear red, the colour outshines me and doesn’t fit with such pale skin and blond hair. Please no red dress – I’d rather blend in and be a classic black or navy dress cut perfectly. But I seek out bits of red and cling to them, not wanting red to blind me. Only some sparkle and razzle dazzle to hold in my hand. Red nail polish is beautiful, with a bit of bling Red as some of the lights in Las Vegas and red fireworks; red stoplights.
Red is perplexing because it’s complex, not simple at all. Red is nationalism and red is internationalism. It’s a proud Canadian colour and I don’t mind wearing it on our Nation’s Birthday. Or cheering on our Canadian hockey teams in the Olympics and junior hockey.
As well, roses are so divine, so deadly pricking your finger. Red, passion and pain. Together swirled these colours of red, of love, and hate collide. There are many shades of grey, but even more shades of red. It’s more than a primary colour it calls as a siren, “Look see me.” No one hides in red. Red cars are often caught barely speeding and Red is a theme of many songs albums as in “Red” as T. swifts song and album and the Beatles album “Redone.” Red as “My love is like a red red rose.” Some choral song I cannot recall.
But I’m sitting here, music blaring trying to decide what to paint. I’ve that special shade of red and it’s mixing and melding with other colours. Shades and tones. I see, red on my canvas and it bleeds. Red blood, blood . . .life, the most prolific association. Red is blood. Blood is life. Red such as poppies, that we must always remember. Red for anger, red for hate, for war. Red to hurt, poor the droplets down a crystal glass. Red red wine. To drink away the blood and crippling thoughts. Red to forget. I like a Malbec with bite. A Zinfandel to make me chatty. A Merlot or Cav-Sav with some friends. Red sangria is delicious. Red strawberry margaritas because there’s real fire in tequila. Red is too many things, too symbolic, too self-contradictory. Red is life.
The winds warm and soft, prairie fields sway to and fro,
Such chores a woman has, hangs sopping sheets thrown.
War would end, countless unknown dead; you crumbled,
So lost; letters sent, none returned, war humbles.
You couldn’t handle what you’d seen and did, came home,
Ran to you, you held me close, cried so much, roamed –
Town, as other’s alive, –ghosts of war haunting,
We bought the farm, your vengeance rose, me you taunt.
By your past demons, by your bruising punch and yet,
They’re times you are you, before war changed you, set —
Course for man, so angry at life, he curses well —
His wife; sometimes he’s my love, other’s my hell.
The winds warm and soft, prairie fields sway to and fro,
Such chores a woman has, hangs sopping sheets thrown.
“The Licentia Rhyme Form, a poetic form created by Laura Lamarca, consists of at least three – 12-line stanzas with 11syllables per line. Of course, the poem can be elongated adding on to the following rhyme scheme: aabbccddeeAA, BBffgghhiiAA, CCjjkkllmmAA. The Licentia Rhyme Form is named after Laura Lamarca’s signature, “La” and “Licentia” is Latin for “Freedom”.” – Shadow Poetry
I’m not sure if this is completely right for the form. I think lines ‘bb’ for instance are supposed to be exactly repeated in lines ‘BB,’ not just rhyme with them. The same for lines ‘cc’ and ‘CC’ etc… But I like the poem like this right now!
Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s music challenge. This one brought back memories of teenage angst and pain. It was one of my favourite bands and songs in high school. The band for this week’s prompt is Evanescence and their song: “MyImmortal.”
Evanescence – “My Immortal”
Childess fear, devoice, perfectly placed; your words.
Compelling words, you’re afraid, have no voice.
Love, not a choice, it hurts; guess it’s for the birds.
Faltering, smothered; clear you sing no choice.
Suffer, no relief uncovered.
Linger, anotherwound betrayed so.
Resonating light, preserved false love.
Scoundrel, thieving; she is wasting.
Wipe bruising tears, yours deceiving.
Crocodile pours saltwater, stings.
Petals droop, swims face down, soul forming.
Nothing left, sinner stole her soul’s wings.
Captivating man, just leave her within.
Solid glass splits; why is life frustrating?
Fractured from ripping, your words scream flitting.
Untrustworthy, you’ve stole all her being.
Give her up, let her go; life moves forward.
She sheltered, faltered not; tears and regrets,
She rebuilds, sets constructing her torn heart.
Disappeared; tells herself you two never met.
The LaJemme is a 5 stanza form created by poets Laura Lamarca and Jem Farmer.
Meter: consistently iambic Stanza 1, 10 syllables per line, Rhyme scheme abab, 4th syllable of each line is to rhyme with the end rhyme of the preceding line. Stanza 2, syllable count: 8/8/8/6, Rhyme scheme cdef, with cross rhymes in each couplet on 4th syllable Stanza 3, syllable count 8/8/8/6, Rhyme scheme gfdf, 4th syllable of each line follows the same rule as stanza 1. Stanza 4, 10 syllables per line, Rhyme scheme hihi, 4th syllable of each line is to rhyme with the end rhyme of the preceding line. Stanza 5, 10 syllables per line, Rhyme scheme abab, 4th syllable of each line is to rhyme with the end rhyme of the preceding line.
The Octelle, created by Emily Romano, is a poem consisting of eight lines using personification and symbolism in a telling manner. The syllable count structure for this verse is 8, 8, 7, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8, and the rhyme scheme is aa/bb/cc/aa. The first two lines and the last two lines are identical.
One part which always stuck out for me was the title of the book and why exactly men are like waffles and women like spaghetti. The above image from reminds me of these analogies.
Just as waffles have all those small squares in them or boxes so do men in how they organize their life. Each area of their life is a box and never shall two boxes meet. A man’s work or his job is one box and his kids maybe another box. His wife and his relationship with her is another box and so is his fixation on fixing old cars or spending time chilling out watching Netflix or the hockey game on TV.
Woman on the other hand, are like spaghetti because everything in their lives is mixed with everything else going on in their lives. Each thing is connected and affects other things. For instance, if a woman is stressed out at work and her boss is riding her tail to finish a project, this might make the woman angry and moody at home because she has to hold it all in at work. Her kids know something is up and stay away from Mom and she feels rejected.
Suddenly, she needs to clean everything in the house and is making the kids clean up too. Cleaning in this instance, makes her feel better because she is in control and able to accomplish something. At work she feels she cannot accomplish what she needs at the moment. Then Mom is upset at her kids because they are not doing a thorough cleaning job. At home, Mom’s the boss.
Her husband comes into the great room to see what’s up with all the noise and cleaning on a late week night. He and his wife start talking and she’s mad at him and picking fights over him leaving his laundry on the floor and not texting her back at work today.
She tells her husband she doesn’t have time to clean up after him, she’s really busy at work and no she can’t come to his work event. She can’t possibly make idol conversation with that weird woman her husband works with and seems to always want to talk to her right now, it would push her over the edge. Disatisfaction at work is effecting her whole life.
A smart husband would realize something is up and talk his dear wife through things until he hits on the realissue. Or better yet, let his wife talk until she gets down to the realissue. After voicing her feelings, his wife will be happier and more relaxed.
On the other hand, her husband doesn’t understand completely why his wife needs to talk things out and why everything in her life effects everything else.
His life is in boxes (apparently naked high up in trees) so when the work box gets to stressful, he goes to the box where he can tinker with the car he’s rebuilding. Work doesn’t effect him here, in fact, this box may help the husband think things through or gain perspective on issues he could be having at work or say the fight he had with his wife.
So all you men in your boxes, let your ladies talk it out and if they won’t, encourage them to talk when they’re ready. I know you don’t get this whole talking just because you need to thing, but actually you’re helping your woman find the root of a problem to deal with it. And that makes you a problem solver with a happier life and wife.
Ladies, let your guy tinker, watch sports, or whatever when he’s stressed. He’s not as vocal as you and he’s thinking things through or giving himself a break from stress. He’s in his box and it’s giving him reprieve from his problem because he’s not in that work box or in another stressful box. When he’s ready he’ll say something, what he’s decided or after a while if he’s not a talker, you can encourage him to talk or outright ask him what’s up. Better not to to be too subtle!
So that is the most memorable and important thing I learned from this book. Do you think it’s true in your own life? In anyone’s life? Or is it an outdated model from an old dating guide?