Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is “to write a poem that looks at the same thing from various points of view.” The corresponding GoodRead’s quote for the A to Z Challenge is the letter E.
“It’s one of those things a person has to do; sometimes a person has to go a very long distance out of his way to come back a short distance correctly.” ― Edward Albee, The American Dream & The Zoo Story
Down in the swamp, down in the bogs there’s —
Mud sucking at my feet, at my soul.
Everyday I journey here and fight,
The elements, the giant rocks, gnarled trees,
Worst of all the swamp, pulling me in.
There are days I believe I shall let it,
But my wife she sees, working here means,
In such a short while, we shall both be free.
She says, we’re educated, we have more —
To us than meets the eye, we’ve wisdom,
To work in horrible conditions,
Because we know two years from now we —
Can leave this wretched bog behind, with all —
The tortures of the tormenting tree limbs,
Nightmares left, there’s better; we’re going —
To the City, where education’s worth —
Something and I won’t have to hate each day.
Mining for fuel, this coal coating my lungs,
My wife’s happy, delighted, she is life,
So I listen to my fathers last words:
“Don’t stay in this town all your life, move on.
Take your girl, your college education,
Leave this foul place behind, don’t be me,
Coal dust in your lungs is misery and —
A cancerous death is what awaits you.”
So, I worked and she and I, we left here,
To the bustling city, with peaceful parks,
We breathe, ‘neath blossomed trees, reading in light.
Time’s clock is forever ticking above death’s throne. The clock’s glass face absorbes the colours of the landscape where death resides. The greyish-green of the stone mass, a floating island, and the pinky-red fire of the sky above and below, reflects on the clock’s face.
The figure of death sits soberly in his throne. The stone carved form a perfect fit for his lanky tall body. Beneath death’s left and right hands, the leering skulls of his first two victims sit. They are from our first two ancestors, people who lived exceptionally long compared to the humans living in modern times. Adam and Eve had tried to evade death, even though they knew he was coming for them. They had been ignorant and had no idea what death actually meant until they breathed their last.
Their souls he’d had to let fly in heaven, gold birds with giant wings exploring their freedom and return to painlessness. He had kept their skulls, though one day he knew he would have to return them. For now, Adam and Eve’s skulls peered eerily out onto whichever soul was before death seated on his throne. Together with the dying person, death watched their last seconds of life tick away. He towered over them in his realm and let their soul sour to heaven or to hell, there was no inbetween except him.
Some souls who stood before him were not afraid. This always amazed death. He was an imposing figure, giant and fearsome, his red hair as consuming flames, and his eyes burning coals. Some humans gazed up at him with what frightened death as wisdom, something they had gained, which few knew, not even him. Their souls flew away and he knew he would never see them again. Other people crumbled before him and he took time to torment them whether they went below or above. He was death after all, a fearsome being.
Yet, he had no control where a soul went. Death had no power to choose or to do as he wanted. He had a job, a task. He was death, he killed; but he was not merely an end. He was also the beginning. What he valued most of all, freeing those souls trapped in decaying bodies or in bodies injured profusely. Death was a contradiction of terms, both good and evil. Souls of faith went above and souls of disbelief went down to hades. Even death was afraid of what lay far beneath him in the abyss.
Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for Friday’s music prompt, “I Don’t Want To Talk About It” by Rod Stewart. The song is loosely used in part three. Warning Part Three contains Adult Content.
“I Don’t Want To Talk About It” – Rod Stewart
Tallia drove back to Fairy Dust as fast as her Vespa would take her without losing the giant fish off the Vespa’s back compartment. She was feeling afraid because she knew Teegan would be nearly awake, but felt certain he would be in enough of a fog she would have time to make the potion he required. She prayed the tonic took his darkness away, the shadow that stalked him. But at the same time Tallia knew, the shadow was Teegan.
The presence of darkness lurked as Tallia quietly opened the back door, slipping inside her shop. She set the goldfish in his bag, down on a countertop and stood for a moment blinking tiredly. It was the middle of the afternoon and a wave of fatigue overwhelmed her. She had been up late thinking about Teegan, what he could have possibly done hundreds of years ago to be cursed so wickedly. She was thinking about him in other ways too, Tallia realized blushing.
She wasn’t sure what she’d do if Teegan knew she’d drugged him, what he’d say or do. She didn’t know how much in control Teegan was of his darkness right now. The wisest thing Tallia could do was make him his potion whenever he needed it, whatever kind of potion it was. She thought about the wisdom Teegan hopefully acquired in his centuries alive. Would it make him extra understanding?
Then again, she could be wrong. Some people never learned their lessons despite experience. Yet Tallia was sure, in Teegan’s startling green eyes had been knowledge of dark deeds and lessons learned with difficulty. The blackness in his gaze almost had the affect of repelling Tallia at first.
At the same time, his emerald eyes were seductive and drew her too Teegan. No matter his real age, he appeared to be in his thirties. He was ridiculously good looking in the truest sense. She could smell his particular pleasing scent from where she leaned against the counter in the back of her store. Where she put together potions and caste spells for magical items customer’s required.
Perhaps, it was her heightened sense of smell which brought to life Teegan’s addictive scent, or maybe her memories were more vivid due to her attraction to him.
Tallia jumped when a voice whispered in her ear.
“Where’d you go? How come my potion’s not made? I need it now Tallia,” he whispered.
“Yep, I’m awake, thanks for the nap by the way. Did you find out what you needed too? I see you got the giant gold fish. You’re worried about me and the shadow around me which makes you sick. You went and talked to Jude. He’s been around over a century. Old for most humans, but not as old as me, Tallia.”
“I didn’t talk to Jude, he’s in the hospital because he had a stroke and isn’t doing well,” Tallia sad with sadness.” I talked to his great-grandson Aspen. He run’s the store now I guess. He said you were cursed, that you did something terrible. That’s why you’ve so much darkness. How do you make it go away Teegan? What happens if you don’t take this potion?”
Tallia felt warm and comfortable and realized Teegan had moved to hold her from behind, his arms crossed against her stomach. Teegan’s head suddenly lay against hers and she could feel him sigh as if he could finally relax. Tallia had never been so near to Teegan, she felt dizzy in good way. It felt wonderful to be held so gently, though she wondered if Teegan realized he had moved to comfort her.
Moments later, Tallia felt Teegan’s lips firmly on the side of her neck, traveling up under her ear and sucking gently on her earlobe. His lips moved back down her neck to the v-neck of her sweater. He kissed her over her heart and Tallia shivered when his lips traced her neck, went over her chin, and landed on her lips. Her heart was racing, she felt hot and cold all over.
Teegan bit her lip gently, seeking access to her mouth. His tongue met hears with need. Tallia couldn’t think, could only feel. Her connection with Teegan was something new to her. This sense of knowing him and recognizing him, beyond the physical sense. In her mind, she could feel him encouraging her to relax.
“I’ll take care of you,” he whispered.
Teegan kissed Tallia until she was breathless, his hands massaging her stomach, sides, and hips. His hand moved up to squeezing her breast over her sweater and short coat. She moaned when he broke off his the kiss leaving Tallia wanting. He breathed in the crook of her neck, his hand not moving, but not leaving either. It seemed as if hours had passed but it had only been minutes.
Teegan collected himself and moved a distance from Tallia as he spoke: “Tallia, I can’t. I want to, but I shouldn’t have done that; it confused you. I need you to make my potion nowplease. You’re the only one who can do it. It has to be one of your bloodline. And if you don’t I’ll turn evil. I’ll be a curse myself, a terrible man. I’ve done such evil because I’m cursed, or was before your gifted ancestor came up with this potion. It’s the only way to keep me from turning, Tallia. You and I, we’re tied together because of your ancestor. You remind me of her,” Teegan remarked.
“You need to tell me the entire story. This isn’t fair Teegan. Of course, I’ll make the potion. But my Aunt never told me any of this. The cancer took her a way in so little time. I need more answers from you,” Tallia pleaded.
“I don’t want to talk about it Tallia. Make the potion. You’re breaking my heart here,” Teegan said rolling his eyes.
“What if I don’t?”
“I’ll be evil, as I’ve said and as I’m sure Aspen told you. I’ll hurt you, probably kill you, and I don’t want to do that. If I kill you, I’ll be evil forever — until someone kills me. You’re the last in your line. Make the potion, Tallia, we could be happy.”
“Tallia, make it now! You know I’m not trying to deceive you. You can feel it.”
“Yes, you’re right. I do feel you’re being genuine. I’ll make it as fast I can.”
Tallia gathered all the ingredients she had laid out earlier and brought them to an extremely large mixing bowl. She measured all the ingredients into the bowl quickly and accurately, barely thinking. She followed the directions in Aunt Willow’s tome and chanted the right words when she needed to say them. Pouring out the water of the giant gold fish’s bag in a sink, she slid the giant flopping gold fish into her bowl. With wide eyes she watched the potion simmer and turn scarlet.
Aspen had been right, the goldfish was a sacrifice of life. Although a mouse or anything small would’ve done the job, but her ancestor’s writing said the giant goldfish was preferred. Tallia strained the chunks of ingredients from the mixture; the goldfish had disintegrated.
Tallia pulled a beer stein out of her cupboard to Teegan’s surprise. She poured half of the scarlet liquid into the earthen beer stein. Teegan had been watching Tallia create the potion the entire time. He hadn’t said anything, only watched her, familiar with her actions. He’d probably watched her Aunt Willow and her Great-Aunt do the same. And many of Tallia’s ancestors, if she could believe his story.
She turned around from the giant bowl and found Teegan beside her, leaning against the counter studying her. His hand moved, pushing her light purple-grey hair behind her ear. He was so much taller than her, Tallia thought.
Teegan smiled when she offered him the beer stein.”Where’s yours?”he asked her.
“Where’s my what?”
“Yourhalf of the potion? You have to drink it with me,” Teegan told her.
Tallia was about to protest but he was gazing at her in a particular way. She noticed the pain usually hidden in his eyes present. She felt it through herbeing and it softened her heart; her protests crumbled.
” I wish I wasn’t so intuitive, Teegan. You do really need me to drink your tonic with you? Do you promise I’ll be okay?”
“I promise. Your Aunt, she was always fine. You’ll find it invigorating actually,” he said.
Tallia nodded reading what Teegan had told her in the tome beside her on the counter. How did she miss that direction? Peeringup she noticed him pouring her a beer stein of the remaining liquid. She took the potion from him, grimacing because she knew the ingredients in it. She tasted a bit of the potion, testing the flavour. It tasted like cinnamon and a woodsy red wine. How could that be?
“Bottoms up?” Teegan said holding up his stein.
Talia clinked her stein with his, “Slainte,” she said.
Teegan’s potion was easy going down. Tallia could feel a lightness, as if her cares were floating free. She felt energy, Teegan was right. His potion did feel invigorating. Her mind felt intensely perceptive as well. Swallowing the remenants of the liquid she saw Teegan had already finished his.
“Better, huh?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’s amazing stuff,” she said peering everywhere, everything around her was completelycrystal clear. Her early fatigue was gone. Tallia noticed Teegan’s dark circles had faded. He appeared younger, his few wrinkles smoothed out. He was gazing at her again in certain way, and she knew from the flicker in his green-eyes what he wanted. Tallia felt almost drunk, except the potion made everything feel real.
She laughed aloud and Teegan frowned,”What?”
“No you’re not getting that from me,” she said.
“It wasn’t difficult to get a kiss and more from you before. You like me. I can tell, I like you too,” Teegan said, eyes darkening and meeting her own.
“No,” Tallia said laughing again. “You have to earn it. Take me out. Tell me about yourself and my ancestors. Did you sleep with one of my great- great – female relatives?”
“Don’t you feel like you’re burning up inside? I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t . . .” he said approaching Tallia, following her as if she were prey. “I slept with the first of your ancestors I knew, she was my . . . my woman, for a while. But she died and we never had a child.”
Tallia backed away from Teegan smiling, wary but turnedon at the same time. He was irresistible and Tallia found herself trapped against a wall. She laughed more as Teegan stripped off his shirt and unbuckled his belt. Her mouth ran dry seeing his finely sculpted body. He grinned and grabbed both her hands, holding her hands above her head. Tallia whimpered and Teegan chuckled.
“I’m not, I’m not a one night type of girl and you’re . . . you smell so good. But you’ve lived so much longer than me, what could you possibly see in me,” she murmured.
“You’re not one night Tallia. I was thinking many many and I see you’re beautiful and gifted; you’re also intelligent.You didn’t immediately trust me.”
“Okay . . .” Tallia began but Teegan’s lips roughly met hers and she gasped as his tongue invaded sliding against hers. His hands were everywhere beneath her shirt and bralette. Then her shirt and bralette were gone and his mouth was there and she couldn’t contain her cries. “Oh no . . .”
He removed his mouth breathing hard, “Stop?”
“Oh please no!” Tallia said.
He chuckled and continued loving her with his mouth. “Teegan . . .” she whispered, feeling her body melt into his.
He pulled off the rest of her clothes, kissing her slightly round stomach and turning her around to kiss Tallia all over back and to her surprise, over her hips and bottom. His fingers found her center and rubbed below, circling her sweet spot, his thumb pressing against her.
“Please please. . .”
Teegan kissed her bottom again and turned her around so his head was level with Tallia’s belly button. He kissed her stomach before thrusting two fingers into her core, she shook and nearly screamed. It hurt but it was okay because the pleasure of his fingers going in and out of her was intense. She wailed when his fingers took her over the edge.
He kissed her, his lips and tongue centered on her core. The sensations Tallia felt were indescribable. Teegan was teasing her, he knew she need to come again but wasn’t letting her; he was making her wait for him. Teegan removed the rest of his clothes and gently lifted Tallia’s body onto the counter. He pushed both his fingers inside her again, adding a third.
“I’ve never . . .” she whispered suddenly shy.
“At your age? I’m flattered, no one values that these days,” Teegan whispered.
Tallia flushed, “Well it’s complicated. It’s gone but, I never had sex.”
“What do you mean?” Teegan asked stopping. His voice sounded grim.
“Don’t stop, don’t,” Tallia begged.
“Okay, but I will kill whoever did it to you,” he promised.
Tallia believed Teegan, he appeared dead serious even though they were having sex.”It’s fine,” she mumbled. “It was a university party. I was too drunk and fell asleep and he was there sometime. When I woke up he was gone and I hurt,” Tallia admitted anxious for Teegan to continue loving her.
“Are you okay, are . . .”
“Please don’t, don’t stop. Please I need you.”
Teegan nodded, understanding. “You’ve got me,” he replied.He guided himself to her entrance and gently pushed inside.
“Good, more.” Tallia said gripping his sides until Teegan was completely inside her. It stung and hurt but it was also the best feeling she could imagine when he began to move. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he whispered dirty things in her ear, all the things he wanted to do to her.
She felt his rhythm increase and her own body released again, more powerfully this time. She felt the final pushes of him in her body as he came. Teegan breathed heavily, holding Tallia and kissing her forehead.
Then, Tallia was crying, amazed tears were falling down her face. But Teegan gently hushed her and kissed her tears. It was hard for her to believe Teegan could ever be an evil monster. Tallia needed to know more about his past, when he was ready to tell her; she hoped it was soon.
Welcome back to my bi-weekly interview series. I’m not sure where you are in the world, but here it’s November and winter has set in –well not quite but it’s coming. Last year we were lucky to have such a warm winter but it doesn’t seem nature is going to be so kind to Alberta this year.
My name is Olaleye Abayomi Immanuel (David Pebbles). I’m a Nigerian from the southwestern part of Nigeria and I’m a proud son of the state that had an anthem before Nigeria – Ogun State. I am not someone given to taking pictures, as I find it awkward and too strenuous. But for the sake of the interview I will let you have a picture (above).
I am a Christian that is extremely passionate about God, life, and the intriguing delight which comes from pursuing one’s vision and calling in life. I am a graduate of Building Construction Technology and also a tech and gadget enthusiast.
I am also a multi-pod with a positive mental posture and outlook on life, a voracious reader, and lover of people. I can be quiet or talkative depending on the situation and the people around me but mostly, I consider myself an introvert. I am also a hard worker especially with beliefs, activities, and hobbies I am passionate about.
3. When Did You Begin Writing and Blogging?
I never knew I would become a blogger someday. I have always been a scribbler and voracious reader since I can remember. I would save my lunch money to buy novels. While I was growing up, if you were looking for any missing books, magazines, or anything readable, they could all be found in my room.
I always write things down anywhere I’m able. Most of my scribbling is actually anecdotes, words of wisdom, and thoughts that I had earlier thinking about reading something. Sometimes novels but most often verses found in The Bible. Being a quiet person gives me ample time to read The Bible alongside a dictionary while I jot down thoughts or insights I gain while reading God’s Word.
I think began blogging intensely, commenting on blogs I read for a start. The first time I commented on a blog, I was skeptical if what I wrote was intelligible. Then, I wished I could erase my comment but unfortunately, I had clicked the send button. I prayed quietly in my mind that the writer of the blog wouldn’t approve my comment.
I declined to view the post again, until late at night three-days later. It took all the mountainous courage to look at the comment I had made. My comment hadfive likes! I was on cloud nine.
That was in 2014. Proceeding the comment, I opened up a blogger account on WordPress which didn’t get used at first as I was too scared of figuring out the whole blogging thing; however, I returned to my blog and began blogging often in November 2015. It has been an awesome experience. WordPress bloggers are so nice, supportive, and great bloggers all around.
“I never knew I would become a blogger someday. I have always been a scribbler and voracious reader since I can remember. I would save my lunch money to buy novels. While I was growing up, if you were looking for any missing books, magazines, or anything readable, they could all be found in my room.” – David Pebbles
4. What Does Writing and Poetry Mean To You And Why Do You Write?
Originally I wrote because I was bored and as a medium of escape from my solitary lifestyle. However, as time goes on, writing to me has become an extension of the intricacies that lie in the depth of my soul.
Writing to me means being receptive and bringing to materialization the billions of universal clues, images, sounds, and thoughts floating around the universe; these things can elude an unperceptive person.Writing is about demonstrating values, being encouraging, motivating people, and inspiring others to make positive changes to themselves and their environment.
Poems come naturally to me, even more than long form. I didn’t realize I could write poems at first. The first poem I wrote titled: “Unwanted,” was borne out of beliefs on abortion. I cried while writing the poem because it came from deep within me. It was as if I was an aborted baby.
“Writing to me means being receptive and bringing to materialization the billions of universal clues, images, sounds, and thoughts floating around the universe; these things can elude a unperceptive person.Writing is about demonstrating values, being encouraging, motivating people, and inspiring others to make positive changes to themselves and their environment.” – David Pebbles
5. Where Do You Find Inspiration and Motivation to Write?
Mostly my inspiration to write comes during my private worship time. Also inspiration for me comes from the Holy Spirit after reading a good book. Sometimes I don’t have any inspiration but immediately I place my hand on my computer keyboard or made up my mind to post something (of which I have no premeditation about) and inspiration flows through the guidance of the Holy Spirit.
Sometimes I find inspiration while walking down the street, while eating, or on a public bus; honestly, inspiration could be anywhere. When such inspiration comes, I immediately stop what I am doing to safeguard those line of inspired thoughts
6. Is There A Time Of Day You Most Enjoy Writing? Do You Have Any Future Projects You’re Considering?
My writing time is flexible; I for one don’t fancy regimented writing. Sometimes I write early in the morning, in the middle of the day, and sometimes late at night.
I have few writing projects I’m currently working on. Among them is the launching of an online magazine that focuses on Christian youths in general. I am passionate about self-development in youth. There are other projects of which I am thinking about how to express.
“Sometimes I don’t have any inspiration but immediately I place my hand on my computer keyboard or made up my mind to post something (of which I have no premeditation about) and inspiration flows through the guidance of the Holy Spirit.” – David Pebbles
8. Do You Have Any Published Works or Are You Working On Publishing Anything?
I have about four unpublished books and two finished drafts.One manuscript is currently being reviewed by an editor. Hopefully by December, my one book should be published. The other books will follow suit in time.
9. Can You Briefly Describe the Process You Are Experiencing While Publishing?
The first task after you have a final manuscript you’re happy with is to to send it to an editor and also to send some copies of your manuscript to trusted writing friends for review. From what I learnt from someone who had his book published, marketing is always the hardest part of publishing, especially for those that self-publish.
I am still considering the many platforms where I can make my books available. I do fancy an e-format before a hard copy book. I believe that when the times comes, it will go well with me and I will find the right platforms and ways to market my book. I want the book available to as many people as possible because probably, it will be free.
” I am still considering the many platforms where I can make my books available. I do fancy an e-format before a hard copy book. I believe that when the times comes, it will go well with me and I will find the right platforms and ways to market my book.” – David Pebbles
10. What is Your Writing Process Like?
The process can be as easy as slicing bread or sleety as making a Chapman. If I already have an idea to post, I will build on my writing making corrections along the way. Personally, writing and posting doesn’t take me more than a few hours even when I don’t have a leadon what to write.
Often, as ideas or inspirations occur, I will write, edit, and post, a piece within a few hours. I hate the torment of unpublished ideas or inspired thoughts and not being able to express them. Basically, I write as I think and thankfully enough I usually don’t need much editing on my posts.
11. Do You Prefer Certain Genres of Literature?
I am mostly into Christian literature which could be about relationships or motivational writings and poems; a quick view of my blog will reveal this. I believe in maximizing your strong point. This is mybasein writing.So much of my writing tends to be nonfiction and more personal.
I struggle with any other types of writing especially fictional. I’ve becoming much better at sharing nonfiction stories. I have no favorites but based on the number of views I have shared some below.
“Often, as ideas or inspirations occur, I will write, edit, and post, a piece within a few hours. I hate the torment of unpublished ideas or inspired thoughts and not being able to express them. Basically, I write as I think and thankfully enough I usually don’t need much editing on my posts.” – David Pebbles
12. Do You Have Any Helpful Advice for Other Writers and Bloggers?
Only two people I know, know I blog and they are random people I met in church. Nobody knows I blog from my immediate family. It’s a personal decision which has helped me a lot. I might plan to tell my family in future or they could find out themselves.
When I started blogging, I received no advice from anyone because I knew no one to look to for advice.But being a fast learner and playing around WordPress helped me a great deal initially.
Also when you write I would encourage writers to be theirunique self. Don’t write to impress anybody even when you don’t have a singlelikeor commenton your posts. Also, interact with other bloggers and don’t be a loner. Consistently writing is also a useful habit to take up.
13. Is There Anything Else You Would Like To Share About Yourself?
14. Please Share With Us Some Of Your Writing From Your Blog:
I find it difficult to pick a favourite piece from my writing as I could picture all of them with their hands raised up because they might feel hurt if not chosen. But all the same, l will pick some pieces randomly:
When you worship
Deep relief seared your souls
Tears respond in snaky path
Washing down the earnest
Of the yearnings wrap up
A squeeze from the dailies
Twisted and tumultuous origin
As if all once, warm presence embrace
Wrap up in such blessedness
You only response is tears
15. Here I Some More Links To Work On David’s Blog:
Thank you to David for the interview. I appreciate his willingness to be interviewed and answer so candidly and honestly each question. Once again, here is the link to David’sblog: David Pebbles Blog.
If you would be like to be interviewed about blogging or writing and would like to share with other writers, bloggers, and readers your unique writing process, please reach-out to me through myContact Page. See You in Two -Weeks 🙂
1a: possessing or full of pores b: containing vessels <hardwood is porous> 2a: permeable to fluids b: permeable to outside influences3: capable of being penetrated <porous national boundaries> (Merriam Webster Dictionary)
I. Pouring water through a strainer,
Or putting flour through a sifter.
We never thought his mind was drained,
But his thinking wasn’t ever swift.
Not meaning to be rude, but clear,
He’d no ideas, just drank beer.
But when you spoke to him and said dear —
Heard the wind, whistle through his ears.
II. Perhaps, it’s not nice to say she —
Had a bit of air in her head.
Like panning for gold through silt she —
Wasn’t precious metal some said.
She’s a tea leaf slipped through the ball,
Not much clever, but despite all —
We hope she picked up some wisdom,
Encouraged her read, learn something.
“A Rispetto, is an Italian form of poetry, is a complete poem of two rhyme quatrains with strict meter. The meter is usually iambic tetrameter with a rhyme scheme of abab ccdd. A Heroic Rispetto is written in Iambic pentameter, usually featuring the same rhyme scheme.”