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Galadriel
Posted on: Jul 13 09, 02:03


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Member No.: 832


THE PATH


The early dawn probed, with chill fingers, through the mist and touched his face. His beautiful face. Relaxed into the softness of sleep. His eyelashes, tinged with gold, lay like tiny fans against his cheeks. His perfect lips slightly parted as if smiling in a dream.

She stood, silently watching him, remembering how often they had walked this path through the woods. How many times they had lain, sated with love, in this very spot. The trees had sheltered them from rain, and sun, and prying eyes as they lay entwined and shared their hopes for the future. It was their own special place.

Until yesterday.

She turned and held out her hands to the man standing behind her. The cold, steel, handcuffs snapped shut, and they led her away. He really shouldn’t have brought Joanne here - not here.

Men in white suits collected the severed head and lay it in the body bag with the corpse.


© Galadriel 2009
  Forum: Short Stories & Chapters for Critique ->... · Post Preview: #116383 · Replies: 3 · Views: 7,262

Galadriel
Posted on: Jul 7 09, 18:33


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Group: Silver Member
Posts: 12
Joined: 3-July 09
Member No.: 832


Letter to a Stranger


Dear Familiar Stranger,

For so you are.
I cannot see your face, or ask your name,
but I know your touch very well.
Light, firm, and impersonal.
Cool liquid. Smooth and faintly scented.
Massage; Routine; Always the same;
left foot, left leg, right foot, right leg.
I was a dancer, you know, before …
Did they tell you? Can you tell?
Can you feel it in the muscles you sustain?
I was a dancer, and I was good, oh, so good.
I wish you could have seen me then.
Left hand, left arm, right hand, right arm.
Arms that once held my lovers,
and my children. Lifeless now.
Where are my children? Do they still come?
I cannot tell for sure unless they speak.
People come, and sit, and look, and go.
I wish you would speak,
I would love to hear your voice again.
Do you not realize that I can still hear?
I know you are soon to marry,
you told a nurse, yesterday, and your
voice was soft, warm with love.
I wish you every joy, I wish that you
may love and be loved all your life.
I can smell starch and masculinity,
the doctor must be here again.
Are his scrubs blue, or green
as in ‘Casualty’ or ‘’Holby City’?
Something else I will never see again,
Television. Not a great loss
but the radio, now, I do miss that.
No-one thinks to put headphones on me,
I am not supposed to be here.
Nothing hurts, or hungers, or moves.
Graphs, green and glowing, monitor
a discarded empty shell,
but, yes, I can still hear;
and how I wish that I did not.
Click - off, click - off, click …
flatline whine.
So, today is the day.
Goodbye then, dear stranger,
thank you for your care.
Remember me.


© Galadriel. 2009.
  Forum: Poetry Exhibition -> Plato's Pearls of Wisdom · Post Preview: #116277 · Replies: 3 · Views: 6,199

Galadriel
Posted on: Jul 6 09, 11:28


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Group: Silver Member
Posts: 12
Joined: 3-July 09
Member No.: 832


QUOTE (ohsteve @ Jul 6 09, 16:23 ) *
Galadriel, I think you have accomplished the necessary time establishment of the old mans memories, by just useing hay making time,her walking across the field, scythes, etc... no need to try to emphasize that. You might want to try what I do, I write by hand in notebooks I have stashed all over my house, then type it all in to MS Word, which catches most of my spelling and grammar...the reread a day or two later and read it very critically and revise...I know that helps me..sometime I leave things in the note books for months then come back with fresh eyes and a different mindset, that also helps me in revision.

Steve


Thank you Steve, that is good advice.
  Forum: Short Stories & Chapters for Critique ->... · Post Preview: #116257 · Replies: 8 · Views: 11,072

Galadriel
Posted on: Jul 6 09, 07:43


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Group: Silver Member
Posts: 12
Joined: 3-July 09
Member No.: 832


QUOTE (ohsteve @ Jul 6 09, 00:37 ) *
Galadriel, I am not much of a short story writer, but I am a very avid and omnivorous reader. I loved this story, except for a few minor nits this was excellent. I loved the interspersed commentary of the staff with the mans thoughts. It is very sad that sometimes one has no choice but to be in a place of constant care. I know I for one never want to be in one.

The only nits I have are with some of the sentence structure, I think you might have been trying for an old fashion feel, but it reads more awkward to me.

August, it was, a late hay making, I think you could delete the "it was" here. As you have used it further down in the paragraph.

Or maybe it's because you have put the verb at the end of the sentence instead of toward the beginning... 'It was August, a late hay making,'...

and you have done that several times...

I sure hope to read more like this... smile.gif

Steve



Hi Steve - thank you for your comments. You are right - I was trying to give an old fashioned regional accent type feel. How would it be if I left "August, it was, a late haymaking", but changed the next bit from "There she was. Walking across the fields .... " to "She came walking across the fields ..."

What do you think - would that fix the problem ?

I concentrate so hard on not using 'got' or 'get' or too many 'ands', that I forget about other things !
  Forum: Short Stories & Chapters for Critique ->... · Post Preview: #116254 · Replies: 8 · Views: 11,072

Galadriel
Posted on: Jul 5 09, 06:34


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Group: Silver Member
Posts: 12
Joined: 3-July 09
Member No.: 832


QUOTE (Psyche @ Jul 4 09, 18:50 ) *
Oh my, Galadriel, you've certainly word-crafted a clear picture of an old people's nursing-home. Few words, splendid imagery and dialogue.

When I saw this, I slammed on the brakes to read it (I'm not reading or writing many short stories these days). My husband is in a nursing-home right now, with dementia. Fortunately, it's one of the 'good' homes, nonetheless there are no perfect homes. The psychiatrist prescribed (or ordered) my husband's internship, coz he constituted a danger in our home as well as the apartment building where we lived. It's true that he did dangerous things with the gas and escaped several times down to the street (once without clothes...), but I felt that a baby had been snatched from my arms. It was awful....

So now I visit him & give him lots of love & hugs...I shall come back to comment on YOUR work instead of my own life asap.

But first let me congratulate you!
Psyche (Sylvia)..... and a warm welcome to MM!



Thank you for your welcome, and for your comments on my work. I love to write - but am not a very disciplined writer!

I am sorry to read of your husbands illness - I believe dementia to be one of the more cruel, for both patient and carer.
  Forum: Short Stories & Chapters for Critique ->... · Post Preview: #116225 · Replies: 8 · Views: 11,072

Galadriel
Posted on: Jul 4 09, 13:43


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Group: Silver Member
Posts: 12
Joined: 3-July 09
Member No.: 832


Thank you for the warm welcome - I believe I am among friends. Yes, please, go lightly on the critique until I find my way around. I think it is good to have constructive feed back, it is how we learn. The fora I have participated in before have been mainly 'Discussion Boards' which, like the curate's egg, are good in parts. While they do have poetry sections, they are not well frequented. I have the honour to be a Moderator in one of them, and have introduced challenges to generate some interest and, at the moment that seems to be working. I do not have a particular style - I just follow my where my pen takes me ! I have always written poetry but fell into short story writing by doing a course at University, and am quite enjoying exploring that aspect of writing - plus - don't laugh - I am currently writing a novel which my friendly proof-reader has described as a "psychological romantic who-done-it" !
  Forum: Introduce Yourself · Post Preview: #116215 · Replies: 8 · Views: 11,852

Galadriel
Posted on: Jul 4 09, 05:38


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Group: Silver Member
Posts: 12
Joined: 3-July 09
Member No.: 832


OLD TOM


They pushed his wheel chair near to the window, placed what passed for a cup of tea on the table beside him, and went to deal with next person. “Did you watch … No, but I heard about … really, who’d have thought …” There was something soothing about their inane chatter. The window was open. New mown grass, daisies, and wood smoke scented the breeze that danced on his memory.

August, it was, a late hay making, on just such a day as this. All scythes and pitchforks then, no fancy machinery making noise and smells. There she was. Walking across the fields, picnic basket over her arm, jug of cider in hand, hair the colour of ripe corn. All the men stopped work - and not just for the lunch, neither, but to watch her walk. Like dancing it was. Well, they could look, but her smiles were all for him.

Rumble of wheels, footsteps. Another one washed, dressed, and left to sit by the window. Jolt, two pairs of hands pull him upright in the chair, and shake him roughly. “Gotta keep wakin’ ‘em up or they don’t sleep at night. Like kids they are. Did I tell you about …” hands pat his shoulder, voices drift away.

Her hands now, they were different. Rough, from working hard in the fields, but gentle. Always gentle. With him, with the children, with the grandchildren. She was always gentle. She loved to lie in their soft bed, talking over their day, making plans, always stroking his hair and playing with his fingers to soothe him into sleep. No-one touches him now, well, none that matter. Duty contact only. Toilet, wash, dress, chair. Not uncaring exactly, but impersonal.

Swallows are dancing in the sky, way marking, soon be gone now. He remembers how she loved to watch them wheeling and diving about house. Saying their goodbyes, she fancied. Well, she always was a dreamer. She was took ill in the Spring, when the Swallows were just arriving, and she died when they left, in Autumn. He wishes they would go now and leave him be. His memories have become painful.

His brain cries ‘Help me’, but his voice won’t work, Hands shaking, can’t reach the bell. Pain beyond pain, then a soft, familiar touch smoothes his hair. “Come to me, my lovely, I’ll take of you now”. Gentle fingers take his hand and, suddenly, they are young again. Tom and Kate, walking through the hayfield, laughing in the sunlight.

They pushed his wheelchair away from the window into a side room.
“Best leave him in here just now. Doctor and undertaker'll be along soon - there’s no rush.”


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  Forum: Short Stories & Chapters for Critique ->... · Post Preview: #116203 · Replies: 8 · Views: 11,072

Galadriel
Posted on: Jul 4 09, 00:58


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Group: Silver Member
Posts: 12
Joined: 3-July 09
Member No.: 832


Good Morning Steve,

Thank you for taking time to read and critique my poem. The reason for the repeats was to give an element of drama, emphasis, the couple have obviously suffered disapproval/prohibition for their relationship. It is meant to be a bit solemn and dark. sad.gif

QUOTE
We are alone, removing our clothes,
entering the water
without scolds.


Yes, the first part of that would work - but not "without scolds", that is not a phrase that I would use. Will play with it, and see what happens. thumbsup.gif

I take your point about each line being a sentence - will try to rework that.


QUOTE
Let's slip the surly bonds of our disguise,
soar through waters green,
no scolds, dreams of us.


Sorry - but that is definite No - it is too soft and romantic for this occasion. tragedy.gif

Thank you once again - I will revise it.
  Forum: ARCHIVES -> Poetry for Crit Prior to 2011 · Post Preview: #116202 · Replies: 4 · Views: 2,963

Galadriel
Posted on: Jul 4 09, 00:37


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Group: Silver Member
Posts: 12
Joined: 3-July 09
Member No.: 832


Thank you for the welcome, and I prefer Galadriel. As to what I am looking for - a little of everything, I think. Feedback on work is always good as, while I know what I am trying to say, I cannot always be sure that that is what reaches the reader ! gromit.gif
  Forum: Introduce Yourself · Post Preview: #116201 · Replies: 8 · Views: 11,852

Galadriel
Posted on: Jul 3 09, 12:43


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Group: Silver Member
Posts: 12
Joined: 3-July 09
Member No.: 832


Just us.


No-one here but us.
No-one to see us remove our clothes.
No-one to scold as we walk into the water.
Just us.
The water is warm against my toes.
Gentle, enticing.
Your hand is cool within my hand.
Firm, determined.
Nothing said.
Nothing to be said.
No-one to hear.
Just us.
The fight is done.
Their arguments irrelevant.
I am yours - forever.
You are mine - forever.
What else matters now?
One last kiss.
One last, eternal embrace.
If this be sin, the sea will wash it clean.
We are here.
Just us.
This time is ours.
They cannot take it.
They cannot touch it.
Let them have tomorrow,
if they still want it.
We won’t be here to care.


© GdeY. 2009.
  Forum: ARCHIVES -> Poetry for Crit Prior to 2011 · Post Preview: #116196 · Replies: 4 · Views: 2,963

Galadriel
Posted on: Jul 3 09, 12:36


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Group: Silver Member
Posts: 12
Joined: 3-July 09
Member No.: 832


QUOTE (Marc-Andre Germain @ Jul 3 09, 17:24 ) *
A warm welcome to you Galadriel rose.gif I'm sure you will like it here. Enjoy boat.gif margarita.gif

Mark



Thank you!
  Forum: Introduce Yourself · Post Preview: #116195 · Replies: 8 · Views: 11,852

Galadriel
Posted on: Jul 3 09, 11:03


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Group: Silver Member
Posts: 12
Joined: 3-July 09
Member No.: 832


Is there room in here for one more?

I am Galadriel. I have been writing poetry since I was 5years old, prose and short stories since my teens, and am now struggling with my first novel. Your site looks really exciting and I am looking forward to reading some of the poetry here, and sharing some of my own.
  Forum: Introduce Yourself · Post Preview: #116193 · Replies: 8 · Views: 11,852


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