When night falls for the bones, Nothing comes from the dark, Nothing goes into the light and the marrow burns on its own. The tunnel bends to its own demise and turns in its cold sack as the sun dies and the skies close down their colors. They drown us in the hues of someone else's nightmares while our own forgotten dreams lie down in the grass and all we can do is lie down with them and smell it coming like we smell our own sweat and wait for the rain to wash it all away. From the darkness, from the depths, a crystalline air vibrates our structured souls until they shatter into light while the bones beat and rattle within us, playing us like a single drum.
vivid and emotive
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Thank you clawfish–
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You could have almost written this for the Visdare prompt this week my friend. Loved your beginning and finished off equally as powerfully.
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Thank you Mums–the end was a bit of an after-thought, so I’m glad it works.
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They drown us in the hues of
someone else’s nightmares … love this imagery and I like how you brought the us into one. Very emotive as Clawfish said.
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Thanks Audra–“the us into one”–I appreciate that especially.
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absolutely beautiful; I’m gonna come back to this because it seeped down into the grass and I’m going to have to wait until it is sunny before I get the lawnmower out – you do come out with some gems
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Thank you Mark–I guess there’s a bit of pressure on my coal lately…
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Very well done and powerful. Your imagery is marvelous.>KB
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Ah, I thank you KB–means a lot. I was worried that this one was pushing the vagueness boundary a bit much…
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My bones (marrow burning) have been flailing around in that cold sack of a tunnel for some days now. The remaining shards shun the hues of others’ nightmares while rattling, dreamless, for the rain. This one’s going up on my wall. Thanks!
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Thank you Jilanne–glad to hear it–
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This reminds me of Louise Erdrich’s novel The Painted Drum where she suggests how a drum that has been passed along to a young woman has the bones of an ancestor who died by being consumed by starving wolves. The bones were collected in the drum, so the instrument pulses with the departed . . . and one woman hears it generations later.
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Great that you had such strong associations with this J. that last stanza almost didn’t make it in time for posting, last minute, but it felt like this needed some kind of closure of the “loop”, that tunnel…
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love how you connect the ending to the beginning – from bones to bones, the essence of it all.
the ‘burning marrow’ – breathtaking… the final stanza – superb. as always, a pleasure to get a peek into your brilliant mind.
… “and the skies close down their colors”
delicious.
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As always Miri, you are too kind….thank you.
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This is very deep and rich. I must let it resonate my soul a while longer.
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Thank you Alice. I appreciate that resonance especially.
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“When night falls for the bones” — that first line sets the whole tone, and I got excited to read the rest. Hard to do, to invoke that kind of emotion from the onset, but you delivered to the end with tremendous imagery and atmosphere. Glad to have found your work.
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Thank you so much for your kind words. They are very much appreciated.
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I am especially gratified that you liked that first line as it won out over three other possibles. I am glad this one worked.
Thanks for the close read.
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You’re welcome. It’s a good feeling to get validation on a decision within a piece in knowing that it worked.
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What shook the darkness
and replaced it with light
the noise of bones clatter,
or the distant light
that which emanated from your dream
moving nightmares aside
something comes from darkness
other than a shivering sight
Yes..its bright
Its right
Its light :))
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ah, you felt that…thank you.
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🙂
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