So, I started taking poetry prompts again, in an effort to get myself to start writing again/more. If you’d like to be an inspiration for me, leave me a comment with a single word, phrase, or thought. I’ll think about it, and craft a poem from it. Then I’ll post that poem on here and release it into the Public Domain.
“Fucking fuck fuckfuckfuck!” He mutter-shouts to himself under his breath, “This is not going ‘according to plan’.'”
Too close. Fragmented faces following a gaze.
Too close! Broken and betrayed, belittled and dazed.
Too close. Distracted by the darkness; driven mad.
Too close! Picture perfect profile pulsates badly.
BACK UP! Back off. Back down.
Spotlight shining sends shimmering sparkles. Back up.
Radiant rays are rescuing ribbons, back up.
The mirror cracked just makes many moonbeams. Back up.
Illustrious luminations light fires, back up.
button encrusted, denim warmth-giver
no leather. no letter. no ring.
just a temporary gift to cut the chill
psychedelic, groovy foot-thumper
no mush. no promise. no expectations.
just an album shared
days roll into weeks; weeks — years; years to a lifetime.
and still I never could.
strangers become friends; friends — lovers ; and love is forever.
but I never could.
heart sends words; words — mouth; mouth stays silent.
because I never could.
I never could.
I never should.
…I never would…
silence to words; words to paper; paper to you.
strangers to friends; friends to strangers; then back again.
a lifetime rolls back into days.
And I Was.
One day we were.
And then we weren’t.
And I wanted to cry.
I still was.
But you were not.
And you became relegated to the recesses of my mind.
And I forgot to cry.
One day I found you again.
And we were again.
But you weren’t you. And I wasn’t me.
So we weren’t us anymore.
So I cried.
And I still am.
If you ask me how I’m doing;
If you wonder how I’m feeling;
I will lie to you.
I’ll tell you I’m fine.
Things are going OK.
I might hint at the truth of the matter.
I might stumble through my words.
I might give you a half-truth.
I might give you a non-answer.
But I’ll probably never tell you the truth.
I’m not fine.
Things are not OK.
I’m drowning in fear and worry.
You probably ask because you care.
But I am not capable of believing it.
Because I don’t care. So how could you?
We are all conditioned to hear these questions as small talk.
We are all conditioned to respond in kind.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Yeah, nothing much.”
How can I define my sorrow at the passing of Lis Sladen?
I did not know her, except through the character of Sarah Jane Smith. But Sarah Jane was my first TV crush. She was also like a friend of the family. I welcomed her into my home via the television on a regular basis. I was a kid, watching Dr. Who in America via PBS reruns.
I was sad when she left the show. I rejoiced when I saw her again in The Five Doctors. Years later, I found out she had made K9 & Company, so I searched for years, trying to find a copy. When I did, I watched it and I fell in love with her all over again. I kept hoping the series would get picked up and that there would be more episodes with my dear Sarah Jane. It never was, of course.
Then the new run of the Doctor Who started, and eventually the rumor surfaced that she would be in an episode. I was awash with joy. When I watched School Reunion, I cried several times. Tears of joy, tears of sorrow, tears of empathy. I have teared up every time I’ve ever watched that episode. And I always will.
Then came Sarah Jane Adventures. I watched every episode as soon as I could find them. I loved that show as much as I loved Doctor Who, for me, it was still Doctor Who, just without the Doctor (usually.)
And now, she’s gone. There was no farewell episode to say goodbye to the character. The character still lives on, but she’ll never make a reappearance, she’ll never be seen again. There can be no good byes when she dies or retires or anything. The character will simply fade away from the Universe. But she will never fade away from my heart.
I’ve read (and listened to) many remembrances of Elisabeth Sladen. They were written or said by people close to her. Those who knew her say that Ms. Sladen was every bit as wonderful, brilliant, clever, fantastic and amazing as Sarah Jane ever was. Perhaps even more so. I never got to meet Lis but now, more than ever, I wish I had gotten the opportunity.
Fare thee well Lis Sladen, fare thee well on your next Great Adventure, where ever it may take you. And Sarah Jane, give our best to the Brig and the rest when you see them. We will miss you Sarah Jane, you were loved beyond any measure.
Here’s the deal: “choose one Cure album, and make a story, using every track on it.”
And here’s my story:
*The kiss* is the key, but there is a *catch*, it could be *torture* … *If only tonight we could sleep*, then we would be rested for the journey. Your role in all of this is by far easier, *why can’t I be you* this time? I know, I know, it is all because of *how beautiful you are*. I’m the ugly one, so I get the crap job, I have to make my way through *the snake pit* and the other perilous tasks. *Hey you*, your task is *just like heaven* in comparison. *All I want* is a refrigerated suit for the next task, after all, you wouldn’t believe just how *hot, hot, hot* it is going through that oven *one more time*. You, you get to sit and just look pretty, *like cockatoos* on display. Licking the *icing sugar* off the silver spoon. The perfect job for *the perfect girl*. *A thousand hours* later, and all I can to is *shiver and shake*, and hope that this *fight* has been worth the prize.