dear adrieline,
Quit eating all the bread.
You leave none for the gray and white pidgeons that scratch your windows with notes tied in curled ribbons along their leg. This winter has pulled them thin.
But you, with your turkey sandwiches, with the yellow white cheese sticking out. You, with your late hours, with hands pressed against the computer screen that glows out past the edges of your hair.
'there's no one there' I whisper. Only you can't hear me because you've gone inside.
Un-rolled on the couches, on an old kitchen table and all the counters; are scrolls. Liliac and fushia ribbons hanging along the edge. Mandarin orange and red ones piled on this floor.
Words that say "the white river is where I'm waiting -paul' and 'we promised coffee and I drink alone -katrina'.
I worry about the weight of these words on those poor birds.
But also, I wonder when you'll come back to us and say:
'When did all these arrive?'
-Madaline
Author notes
I don't know if this was what you were looking for. But this is what came to me. : )
In a list
A contest entry
- sleep (letter contest) by adsaige.
1200 points, ended June 30, 9 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 11 of 11
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aha! finally! a name for ms. luvdarkchocolate.... you are a Madaline... so a Maddie? Hmmm... in my head you don't look like a Madaline. I was thinking maybe a Lori... or Nancy... Well... I like your name. :-)
And I love your prosey piece. It's so... colorful. Yet a midst all of the vivid colors, there seems a sadness... a hollowness.
Congratulations on the bronze!
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I don't know the prompt for this and nor do I need to.
This is so melancholy and so beautiful.
I immediately felt I was there and could feel the emotions. Beautiful writing.
and those messages...OH oh!
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You're silly. Thanks so much for coming by!
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You leave none for the gray and white pidgeons that scratch your windows with notes tied in curled ribbons along their leg. This winter has pulled them thin.
But you, with your turkey sandwiches, with the yellow white cheese sticking out. You, with your late hours, with hands pressed against the computer screen that glows out past the edges of your hair.
'there's no one there' I whisper. Only you can't hear me because you've gone inside.
I love this, it was beautiful. The metaphors were great. A really nice letter.
♥
paintedparispassion -
you are such a good good writer. I loved this
love,
lane
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- "there's no one there" I whispered -
So perfectly placed....
love that lass......
When we invert so far inside ourselves,
that others are not heard
and time is meaningless,
as loved ones wait
for their arrival....
to begin to live and love again.....
tis only my interpretation lass.....
it is like good jazz....
someone else could see or read it different...
Thats way I love to read your work.....
Bless you always,
Liam
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Chers Vous,
I don't know you and you don't know me, as far I know. And it is rather
sad that you have seemed to captured parts of what I go through too well.
There are not scrolls; I don't have any fancy paper or ribbons to adorn
the words that I write to people I don't know. There are few letters I recieve
and those come from a father I refuse to see, from a boy that nearly destroyed
me, and from a sandman who hushes my fears, somehow. I am wondering as
well when did it arrive and when will I leave and most of all, when will I find something?
I hope you never go inside like me; it is dark place where your eyes are nothing
and you cannot hear yourself. Even if you scream forever.
Someone still waiting, Adrieline.
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The scrolls are metaphoric for the life that you're not living. It is meant to be the world calling for you. Waiting with peonies in its arms.
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And it is immensely beautiful. Like I said, I don't have anything pretty to adorn it. My words have become my life, sadly.
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And it is immensely beautiful. Like I said, I don't have anything pretty to adorn it. My words have become my life, sadly.
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