Crystal Shadows Unlocked - Sayings and poetry, anecdotes, short stories and monologues
Only shadows
Don't be afraid
By
Falko
When I forget to pray for protection...
Where are the crows?
The sharp of the swallow
Slices my cosset
Through which the acid of consciousness seeps
Head in the sand...
What happens when you bury a potatoe?
Rise up
Knelt by the fire's edge I watch as glowing embers die.
A lone strand of curling white smoke surrenders…
It's not a lie to say that my heart broke a little.
Alone except for midnight gloom
- I huddle close to the memory of the blaze.
A weight pulls my shoulders closer to the ground,
I steady the sway
The floor, still warm
The optimism, faint
Knowing soon that even the smell of burnt hope will fade…
While the resignation of heat is served,
I know tears have no place here,
Neither do questions…
Reluctantly - I rise to face the dawn.
The harsh reality of daylight
Gives birth to surety
- All must go on.
Where the wild fires burn
Fresh shoots will grow.
Tainted
The perfectionist driven by inherent flaw
- Will never be at peace.
I am disappointed with mild admiration,
And fear that my desire to inflame
- Will corrupt me.
Pearl
Accessorise your understanding with the sparks of humour.
Way out?
Where is the hope?
I sit on the steps in the evening shade
while the dogs frolic in the cool grass.
Black African ants frisk my outline
and begin to climb all over my feet
I stomp at them.
In the distance
the dusty city of
Far from those hard structures
live the outcast hopes and dreams of a tin shack village,
hemmed in by flash board adverts of a better life...
An unkept man walks by,
how can there be any hope?
Inspecting insect bites on my arms
my mind wanders back to the make shift maze…
The swarming ants fight a battle I no longer care to defend,
I go indoors.
Fighting the urge to put my head on a cool pillow and forget my thoughts,
If you hit your head against a tree
- You get bark!
Monologue
Final production after a two year stretch...
My director was 'Mr Shakespeare'. He really did look like Shakespeare, beard and everything. Ah no, he didn't wear period dress, but then again I guess for some people - that's debatable…
Anyway he cast me as a drunk, 'Gay Wellington' and a Russian Duchess 'Olga'. What a contrast! Or in some cases, not so much…
Anyway, I was unhappy about both characters. The total spread of my lines probably filled less than a page!
Oh what a travesty!
Okay - in the great scheme of things, not so much, but I did feel slighted.
When people asked me what part I got, I felt embarrassed to say. You know - you get that knowing look… Now I did learn, later in my dramatic education how to make the most of a bad situation…but that's another story!
Anyway I foolishly spoke to the drama king about my parts, I say foolishly because it just created cards of elastic - anything I did from then onwards in his class always brought me back to that moment. I knew he could not re-cast but I did need some reassurance...
I should have talked to the mirror
I think 'Heir Director' was trying to teach me that you can not negotiate with your leader, as any requests I made were denied - any avenues I wanted to take my characters down were met with a padded wall - he would just simply, gently, patiently, and positively say "NO!"
It was an old style American Comedy. So on one occasion I tried some old fashioned slapstick for the drunk. He watched my routine, smiled - then said 'NO!'
He sent me off to the make up and wig department to discuss what they had planned for me. Needless to say the whole experience felt like prison.
I didn't want to play an old woman and in his mind the Duchess was ancient! I tried to play the drunk young, but I was told she was ancient too! Well... I... er... went a bit method and er... forgot my lines…
I won't, however, forget the main boss man's parting words at my last tutorial - after serving two years of my life. He summed it up with
'You didn't quite get the characters - did you?'
And of course, that's entirely my fault - yeah?!
I did learn how speak like a Russian though...
Leave your issues at the door -
And when you go,
You might forget to pick them up...
Fiction ofcourse...
Actress Gif me sum votcarr...
Barman walks over with a new bottle, pours some in glass
leaves them both on the bar.
As he reaches back to get a packet of crisps for someone else,
a raucous party enter calling out a list of drinks...
The actress picks up the bottle and her short glass,
carefully tops up her drink,
takes a swig out of the bottle
and staggers towards the door giggling
Barman Hey - you can't take it with you!
Actress 'Yeah I know' - but juster watcha me triiii...
Barman to the group as he rushes after her
Barman And what accent was that!
Seamstress
Trust should be laced with understanding.
O the rust of adoration...
Whispered scream of the ocean
as memories and promises
shatter against the rocks
Sepia wreck
Directionless
O the rust of adoration...
My name is
I am wearing the remnants of a flower.
I sit at the waters edge and ponder the end...
Fear grows in me like the lengthening autumn shadows.
In the distance I hear singing,
A wailing of slow verse
The off key trills call me from my sorrow.
The universe does not let me drown,
Reflected sunset off the cold waters still warm.
Dogs play on the green
The evening joggers on the trim
Standing alone on
Below a lone rower cuts his way.
Tiny waves break on the muddy shores
Littered with pigeons and seagulls.
I look up and shrug off my concerns.
I am my own hero.
And for the first time today
I look at the people I pass.
I smile.
Their chatter, no longer annoying,
But pleasant and melodic…
Feels like a stray feather tickling my soul.
The last beams of sunlight wash over my face,
The pink sky echoed in my cheeks -
I wonder,
Resigned,
Yet with a smile
Will I ever celebrate in love again?
There are far too many cats in the house…
And until I realise that
The one that I love will always go hungry.
Watchful
The other day I watched a wild life documentary
The story was about a woman who reared an orphaned lion.
Webbed at the back of her mind was the knowledge that when the time was right she would set him free.
Constantly warmed by his development from a feeble cub into a magnificent beast,
She endowed him with a family's bond of sacrificial care.
She had no fear.
With cultivated strength came restlessness
- Still playful yet instinctive.
Unscarred
His wild beauty breathtaking
The vibration of his roar inspiring
He was ready.
Ignoring the twist of sorrow
Preparations were made.
In the security of the
He was released in the open scrub.
Staying close by she saw him mark his territory further…
Further…
Further a field…
Then from a safe distance, if only for her own protection
She would chart his progress.
As he forged a life of his own
Her heart burst,
Always,
With continued love and pride.
Motivational enquiry of nature -
Make room for diversity of character,
Humanity is like minded.
The cost of freedom
Parallels of exodus, like suicide
Leave the land arid
And unable to morn in dignity.
Without remorse, agents of hypocrisy and drought,
Who claim their strength in plight's affection,
Despise the rain.
Tremors unearth a stench of ridicule.
Throwing up corpses of the forgotten
A quake unlocks crystal shadows of fear.
Sunrise
I watched in awe as the birth of the morning
Burst the chill of the silver skies...
Ephemerality
The other day I saw a homeless man near the bus stop -
He had long, straggly, grey hair and his weather burned face unshaven.
His bluey-grey sweats and trainers were charcoaled by the streets.
He had fallen off the bench and sat still on the cold ground,
No one stopped.
I was curious.
As I approached I saw a can propped up beside a puddle…
He was enveloped by an odourous fusion of alcohol and urine
With a transient plague of pity and guilt I walked by.
Moving away I passed two strolling black youths,
One remarked "We could have stopped… just to get him up…"
His friend did not reply.
And I felt compelled to say
"We could still go back and help him."
But I didn't…
I had a dream about moving towards a crashing wave
- Passed the distant reef
The menacing power of the sea froze my courage
I was neither valiant nor daring.
Who was I?
Shot?
Standing on the top of the mountain did not bring praise,
Then again, I guess wearing a target doesn't help.
…Ever wondered why there's
No windows
In a cocoon?
...what?
Silk Worm Do I have to?
Book Worm Hesitation is not an indication of contradiction,
In this case procrastination is just a "delayed persuasion".
Silk Worm But I don't like change.
Book Worm Resentment for effecting fundamental change
Need not be an internal cause for personal argument
- But acknowledgement of some "domestic puzzlement".
Silk Worm I don't understand?
Book Worm The mystification of clarity is merely
"Affectation in disguise".
Silk Worm What?
Book Worm After all incoherent gesticulation,
Assured "perception of eventuality"
- Will sanction the transpiration of the necessary modification…
Butterfly "Suck it up" squirt and "move on"!
Recycle
Forgive
Let go
& forget