[stylist] For what it's worth: Poetic prose post

[Barbara Hammel]

Now, I got this one right away, even before I read your description.  You 
are vague, but not too vague.  Yet in some respects you spelled it out 
clearly.
Barbara



Writing free verse is like playing tennis with the net down.--Robert Frost
-----Original Message----- 
From: Bridgit Pollpeter
Sent: Monday, May 05, 2014 3:01 PM
To: 'Writer's Division Mailing List'
Subject: [stylist] For what it's worth: Poetic prose post

Wrote this a while ago. I actually forgot about it, but thought I would
share it with you lot. I see it kind of, sort of being in the vein of
Bill's and Chris's pieces, dealing with the earth and life in their own
ways. Spoiler alert: Will explain it's intent afterwards for those who
want it, smile.


Sacrifice

Holding our breath, we plunge into the darkness. Suspended, heartbeats
bruising our soul, we are nailed to this action. The horizon is vertical
and pale, divulging no secrets. We must wait, fettered to time.

Signs of relief speak a secret. They whisper promises swelling our
hearts. We're chambers unable to contain this jubilee, and yet we must
wait. Secrets only told by touch. Our hands, our lips, our bodies shout
in unison; a long awaited chorus.

Sickness molds me into a vessel. I rejoice in the waves of nausea.
Swirling dizziness is a precious gift. The tender, sore spots cause a
smile to spread. My body radiates the secret. We count the weeks in
silence, scared to commit this joy to words.

Exhaustion weighs me down. A fuzzy, haze incapsulates me. Ross's warm
hand strokes my back as the world sinks into the depths of my slow,
steady breathing. I surrender to my captor. Our countdown almost to an
end, I revel in this slumber to strong to avoid.

Colliding with reality, the secret has changed. Held safe, warmth is
love , but a crack breathes this secret back into the ether. Wetness is
the kiss of betrayal. Eden's tranquility soiled by rebellion. A blood
sacrifice is required.

Wounds scabbed over threaten to release a payment. Circle of thorns to
clarify this sacrifice. Like a wound in the side, blood pours this
secret from my vessel.

Author's note: I would consider this poetic prose, meaning it has a
poetic lyricism about it, but is structured as prose. It does not hold
to any poetic forms. This is nonfiction, though very much an internal
dialogue with hints of scenes, or actions. It's about the joy of finding
out you're pregnant but afraid to be overly joyful about it. In the end,
there's a miscarriage, the sacrifice required. I briefly use some pagan
and Christian symbolism. This is a much more emotive piece. I see it
loosely relating to the archeology thread as blood is required as a
sacrifice to the earth, that blood is needed for life, and I was called
upon to make that sacrifice, hence some of the pagan symbolism, smile.
It also has strong allusions to Christian symbolism too, though
Christian and pagan symbolism agree a lot more than most want to admit,
grin.

Bridgit P


_______________________________________________
Writers Division web site
http://writers.nfb.org/
stylist mailing list
stylist at nfbnet.org
http://nfbnet.org/mailman/listinfo/stylist_nfbnet.org
To unsubscribe, change your list options or get your account info for 
stylist:
http://nfbnet.org/mailman/options/stylist_nfbnet.org/poetlori8%40msn.com