For Day 3 of OctPoWriMo the theme is a taste of metal and a poem form called Cheritas.
“What I really love about Cheritas is that it’s a very loose form. Cheritas are a stanza based form rather than a syllable-based one. It’s really simple: 1 line stanza, 2 line stanza, 3 line stanza. The lines can be any length you choose.
Now for the word prompts: Metals have been associated with everything from alchemy to astrology to chemistry to (the obvious one) geology. Without metal we wouldn’t have much of what we call modern civilization.
When was the last time you tasted metal? Your fork as you ate breakfast? A dental tool? The iron when you bit your tongue? Growing up with braces? What memories and emotions are attached to those moments?”
I had a dream, the tang of copper in my mouth,
Alloyes of aluminum and steel, crunching together;
Before the crumpled flattened and I no longer saw the flawed.
Until we gazed upon the smooth magnite and tin roof surface,
Of a galleries’ artistic architectural lure;
Metal’s tangy and bitter flavor, would not leave my mouth.
Had become a masterpiece, a building for an empire to follow,
The tartness of copper, it’s brownish hue sparkling;
Touches of bronze, silver, gold, to gleam in the morning.
A society of metal, a new age of alloyes beyond scrunched up foil,
A glorious sunset sparkling with warming hues,
Before the rust, the dust, and broken bonds revealed– the empire had fallen.
Lauren worked at the Starbucks until 12:00 am at night. She thought after a time, she would feel safer and more comfortable walking home in the dark. Her apartment was only four-blocks away.
This evening she felt particularly on edge and the noise of metal dropping somewhere nearby, echoed in the night.
Lauren began to shake, she had one block to go when she started to run. Then there was only the front door to get into her apartment. She hurriedly opened the door and screamed when she felt someone touch her arm.
“Calm down Lauren, it’s only me. Your neighbour Alice. I’m headed over to my sisters. Brandy and her kids are all ill with the flu and I’m going to help her with the little ones.”
“Oh Alice,” Lauren said trembling. She squeezed Alice’s arm, happy she was there. “I’m sorry about Brandy and her kids, I didn’t mean to freak out on you. It scares me walking home in the dark alone.”
Alice clicked her tongue, “A girl of your age shouldn’t be alone at night.” When she bared her wolf-like teeth, Lauren knew it was too late.
Matt never talked about the shed in his yard. In the past he’d been rude about it, if I asked him. But I’d never seen the shed door half-open before.
He gazed at me steadily as he often did now. One day five-months ago I caught him staring at me and he blushed.
Now, he’s trying to tame the wisps of hair from my face, but neither of us had made a real move.
“Why is the shed half-open?” I asked.
“The basket in the shed door, it’s for us. We’re going on a fall picnic,” Matt said proudly.
I blushed, “Where are we going to have the picnic Matt?”
“In the shed, Aubrey.”
“But we’re not allowed in there remember? Your Dad said never.” I reminded him.
“It was one of my Dad and my Mom’s favourite places when Mom was alive. I told my Dad I was taking you on a picnic and he told me to clean up the shed for you; Grandma helped with the decore.”
The shed was rustic-sheek, painted in soft ocean-toned colours. There was a loft up top with a queen mattress, thick white cotton sheets, a navy duvet, and several accent pillows.
There was a huge white window with a navy cushion to read on. The shed even had a small kitchen with mini- appliances and a metal and wood island for two, along with a washroom with a matching tiled shower.
I gazed at the ash wood floor as the sun danced across it and back to Matt.”This is amazing! You did all this for me?” I asked overwhelmed, tears slipping down my cheeks.
That’s when Matt took my chin in his hand and kissed me. It was the first of a lifetime of kisses and memories in our unshedlike hideaway.
My apologies. I think this piece is a bit long, but I can’t seem to cut more right now.
Your eyes are a reflection of your soul it is said; but if you’ve seen pitch black-brown eyes, you know they can be the kindest gentle eyes.
People used to be afraid of their reflection — much like our pets. The authorities thought using mirrors was vanity as the Puritans had no mirrors. But I can think of many instances having a mirror would be handy.
It was thought that your left hand was evil, especially if you were left handed. Because the right hand mirrors the left, the left was to be watched.
People used to look at themselves in surfaces that shone and reflected a person’s image back. Glass has not been around so long so we used metals that when shiney gave a reflection.
When mirrors came about, they were put in every place you could think of. On the table, the wall, and on the ceiling. Where can you escape your reflection when it is always mirrored.
And when you do sit down and think, for some self – reflection, does your self reflect your heart or soul? Are you living the life you want to?
And with “selfies” and mirrored surfaces at every place we go. Does our appearance always measure up? Did we leave lipstick on our teeth? Or cut our face during shaving?
I think there’s a bit too much reflective surfaces if I may say so myself. I think we are a bit vain as we look at ourselves in every mirrored surface we can. Perhaps, if we reflected more on the inside our bodies would reflect something greater — something kind.