Wednesday Line – 16/Oct/19

BelievingSightUnseen
@EDC_Writing
No us, useless looking back, flowers black, old ground, frost hardened – clocks changed, two faced, one body, thin ice, caught out, heavy heart, not hers, his…
#1lineWed – theme ‘frost’

EDC Writing – Prose to poetry – getting started.

My life changed in 2011/2012 – close to ending in 2011 – 2012 saw another me, raw, creative writing a release. ‘Believing Sight Unseen’ appeared, ‘His and Her’ words, in the form of messages, Sam & Erin’s mostly, this ‘new’ blog gives quite a few! An ‘old’ blog deleted, you live and learn – a less naïve me now in the online world!

Back to the beginning,  I wrote, a concept,  a synopsis,  for ‘Believing Sight Unseen’  –  sent out to acquaintances, to varying degrees – almost all said ‘we’re intrigued’ – one said ‘ your writing more poetry than prose ‘ – my take on prose, every word, fell into place as this: 

 

It started on a Sunday, a day unlike any other,

How could it be, when two people, so different,

A woman, blue eyed blond,  a man, blue eyed too and greying,

Came across each other, by chance, by fate,

All that matters is it happened.

 

Defying sense, at least the common sort,

They connected in a virtual way, real enough to them.

Naively they invested in each other, no guarantee of interest.

Their messages flowed as if free, though by what means,

Best not to say, you never know who reads.

 

Early days they wrote of lust and sensuality,

An upside down romance in many ways.

Graphic yes, but never crude, it was as if they knew,

Something special had begun, and with tenderness and care,

They explored, albeit blindly, the senses of each other.

 

Words appeared that had meaning as their hearts began to open,

Flowing into minds where spiteful demons lurked.

Feelings deepened, desires and hopes not fully recognised awakened,

Was this excitation of that latent state, the pure free energy of life.

Would either dare to name it.

 

Tensions rose, unintentional, but impossible to avoid,

In their character-limited message world.

So many misunderstandings, the cruel ambiguity of words.

Awful moments came, filled with agony and hurt,

Yet through extraordinary patience and forgiveness went.

 

Pain washed away by tears left scars unseen,

What fool said falling never hurts?

Now so close, so intimate, they clung each to the other,

A dance of sorts, one step forward, so often two steps back,

A strictly outer body experience.

 

Fate played a hand, an unmarked deck, do we ever know.

He took a chance and gambled, all or nothing now,

Feelings too intense to hide, he blew her mind,

Knocked her demons senseless, both touched and moved so much,

Their hearts became engaged, their souls mated.

 

Demons stirred again, exposing fears deep rooted in her past,

Systemic, defying trust, and maddening to male logic.

All attempts to meet met with frustration, so many times she said she would,

But so strong willed she railed against his pressure, all he did was ask.

For crying out loud, what’s wrong with her, and yes what’s wrong with him.

 

Both hearts ached to beat as one, their bond so fragile yet so strong,

Reaching out, yet still not close enough to touch the other.

So hard they tried to bridge what seemed a chasm,

He falling deep within, her teetering on the edge looking down,

Her biggest fear to lose him.

 

What became of these would be lovers,

Where did they land when falling done,

Hand in hand together, or shattered, broken and apart.

Their story now unfolds for those with hearts that can be touched,

And imaginations that can see beyond this man and woman’s words.

 

EDC Writing: Bits & Pieces – Perfect Days

Our perfect days to come have to start with one, the day we say hello, the day that we begin, to talk a while and feel, all that we’ve begun is real, to let what we have grow, through looks and smiles, and hand holds, and if our chemistry is right, as I believe it might, then we’ll be all we’ve ever said, the two of us, behaving naturally, instinctively, behind closed doors, the bedroom, the sofa, the kitchen table, up against the hall wall, and as I know you have a hankering, al fresco too, the touch of grass upon your skin, words undressed as us, all we are exposed …