She carries storms in her eyes
That swirl with gold and green
They fade to grey when she cries
And turn blue when she dreams.
Niamah stands very still at the edge of the turbulent gray water. Just the tips of her bare toes are submerged. She can feel the chill, like icy tendrils, crawling up her legs and spreading throughout her body. The cold wraps her like a vice as a gust of wind irritably pulls her golden hair from its braid. A fine mist settles on her cheeks like a tender kiss and there’s a sort of comfort in its caress. The thin bed clothes are no protection from the demanding elements, but rather than fight them she willingly, almost happily, gives herself over to them.
As she observes the river she begins to notice little details under its surface. The stones are an impossibly smooth ivory. She resists the urge to bend and scoop one into her palm. Her eyes are drawn to a black moss growing around the stones. It glistens like sultry black hair. As if in a trance, Niamah Raises her arms and massive white wings to the sky as she begins to wade into the water. All she can hear is its furious roar, yet she remains unafraid.
Suddenly, the river takes her into its powerful grip. She spins and twirls, her release of control is a joy within itself. As she begins to laugh, water fills her mouth and lungs, but the water is life to her. She begins to hear a melody under the rush of the current. It’s the sweetest lullaby she has ever heard and yet there is an edge of sorrow entwined with the joy. The cold becomes a welcoming warmth as she releases the last of her resistance. It is then that she hears her name, “Niamah, my daughter, come to me.”
Heart pounding, Niamah springs from her pillow. It was the dream again. This dream has come to her, occasionally, for as long as she can remember. Closing her eyes she focuses on slowing her breathing. The dream itself does not frighten her, it’s the overwhelming feeling of loss that she’s left with, as if she’s missing something she’s never known. The river always calls her “daughter.” The voice is beautiful, soft and full of love. Niamah can’t help but imagine that it is indeed her mother calling to her. This is impossible of course, her mother died giving birth to her.
Tears spring to her eyes for the mother she never knew. All of a sudden, there’s a tap at the door and her Nan enters without invitation. Nan knows exactly what ails her girl and without a word she pulls her little darling into her arms. Humming, She caresses her long hair. With her head on her ample bosom, Niamah immediately relaxes. She lets the familiar scent, vanilla and sage, comfort her as she is lulled back to sleep. The dream does not return this night.
Author’s note: this excerpt is directly related to the poem (Diantha of the River) https://lmjones01.wordpress.com/2015/02/08/diantha-of-the-river-2/
Niamah is Diantha ‘ s daughter.
Book one of “The Watchers” is about Diantha.
Book two will be about her daughter Niamah.
I am not the calm of a spring day
I am the scorching summer thunder
I am not the bird song of may
I am the lightning skies asunder
Don’t ask that I always be your smiling girl
It will only cause you pain
Don’t dress me in muslin and pin curl
I’ll just ruin them in the rain
Allow me to spin in the hurricane of my mind
Don’t hinder the wild flame
Yes, I am still your little one, good and kind
yet, I am also the wild thing, never to be tamed.
She steps from the dark tree line
Into the twilight
Dark glossy hair flows down her back
Curling at her elbows and hips
Her skin is milk white
Her body is long and lithe
Eyes that are a piercing stormy blue
Set her apart from her people
Tears stream from those violent eyes
And fall to mingle with her blood on the frozen ground
She ignores the blood as it pours down her back and thighs
Slowly, she glides toward the river
in a trance of her own creation
Her breath is a fog
As a lilting song floats from her blue lips
A song to call to her lover lost
A hopeless song,
She knows he will never hear
At the edge of the swollen, rushing river
She raises her arms and her face to the sky
All the animals of the forest remain silent and watching
View original post 297 more words
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
This quote is a perfect description of what I do. Some of my writing is poetical, some is funny, and some is raw, but all of it pours forth from my soul to be shared with you.
This is why I am so honored to be nominated and to accept this award. Thank you Amrit for nominating me! In you I recognize a fellow bleeding poet. I love your writing and I recommend that everyone who reads this go visit his blog http://www.aamrits.wordpress.com
For those of you who don’t know what the Liebster Award is you can find information here https://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/12/03/understanding-blog-awards/
This is an award for those of us who are still underdogs in the blogging community. An award for the ones who are still thrilled at every single view, follow, and comment! And may the thrill of sharing our own little blip of understanding, experience, vision, dreams, heartaches, etc… never lose it’s savor!
Here are my answers to your questions Amrit:
1. Which is the one place you visit to forget about all your worries?
Well, I’m an amateur cyclist. My favorite place to bike is on a trail called Swamp Rabbit in my town. I ride about 10 miles to a local college on the route where there is a lake called Swan Lake. In the center of this lake is a bell tower. I will either sit outside the bell tower and watch all the activity around me or (because sometimes they leave it unlocked) I will climb up the stairs and sit in the top of the tower where the bells are. I absolutely love this place!
2. What is your favorite color?
I can’t choose just one color. I’m drawn to earth tones: light blues, browns, golds, and greens.
3. What do you find inspiring about writing (or blogging)?
Two things inspire me the most: 1. The complete freedom I have allowed myself when it comes to my writing. I won’t hold back because I’m afraid of judgement. This was a promise I made to myself when I created my blog. 2. The community. Not only is it inspiring to see new perspectives, ideas, and opinions, it’s reassuring to read my own thoughts in other’s writing and think, “I’m not alone.”
4. Who is your role model?
I have two main role models: One is a woman that has been like a mother to me since childhood. She taught me what unconditional love is and she gave me a place of refuge and peace when I needed it most! I love you Mama Jan! The other is my Dad. Life has not been easy for him by far but I never hear him complain. His love for his daughters is truly without limits and he does his best to be there whenever he’s needed. I respect his quiet way of taking things in, he is slow to form an opinion and quick to love without judgement. Thanks Dad! I love you!
5. What is your favorite movie?
Ugh! Do I have to choose just one? Growing up my dad and I shared a passion for movies. My all time faves are: Aliens, Anne of Green Gables, My Fair Lady, Brave Heart, Dances with Wolves, You’ve Got Mail, Conspiracy Theory, Terminator, and Willow. The newest faves are: Maleficent and Live, Die, Repeat: Edge of Tomorrow.
6. If you’ve the power of invisibility for one day, what will you do?
Honestly, if I were invisible for a day I would want to go to Egypt and secretly explore inside all the ruins that they don’t allow people to enter (like Pyramids). I would really love to do this everywhere, Rome, France, Italy, England, India, Russia, china… I would just love to go explore all the little nooks and crannies of every ancient site!
7. If you could have any job in the world, which one would you want?
I would love to be a successful author (not for fame) but because it would make it possible for me to travel all over the world and meet new people, explore new cultures, and see all the places I’ve only dreamed about!
8. What is your favorite song?
OK. Anyone who knows me knows that I have a music addiction. I have over a hundred playlists on spotify and I’m constantly listening to music! Right now my favorite song is by Priscilla Ahn called Dream. I honestly just teared up as I listened to it to get the link 🙂 This song describes me perfectly. It also reminds me of my favorite tree as a little girl. I wrote a poem from the point of view of this tree called “The Story of a Tree”.
9. If you are about to write a book, what would it be about?
Well, thanks for asking because I am in fact working on a book of which five pages are posted on my blog. It is loosely based on the Book Of Enoch (a jewish religious book about the fallen angels before the flood of Noah) It will not be a religious book. It’s a fantasy/scfi book. I’m using a lot of Greek and Norse mythology for the world. There will be many fantasy creatures in it (like dragons) that were created by the fallen “Watchers” Most of the book will be from the point of view of my main character Diantha. It was my poem about her that spurred the vision for the book “Diantha of the River”.
10. Tell one craziest (or stupidest) thing you have done.
Now this one is a personal secret, but why not share it with the world? Over last summer I was moving from an apartement complex to a new home. It was an extremely hot night (I live in the deep south of the U.S.), So by the time I was finished loading my van I was drenched in sweat. I was alone and a crazy idea occurred to me. And so spurred by my sometimes dauntless nature I walked over to the community pool. It was about midnight and no one was around, so I unlocked the gate, and quickly walked to the edge of the pool. I pulled off my soppy clothes and jumped in! It was exhilarating! I only stayed in for a few minutes before I quickly dressed and headed home 🙂
11. If you have to describe yourself in one sentence, what would that be?
“So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.” -Robert Frost
Here are my nominations for the Liebster Award:
All of these blogs (and so many more) have touched and spoken to me! I encourage you all to continue to take a look at one another’s blog and share the love 🙂
Here are my questions for you:
1. What do you consider to the most valuable thing you own: when you were a child/teenager/now?
2. What’s the kindest act you have ever seen done (either to/by you or another)?
3.If you could have had the starring role in one film already made, which movie would you pick?
4. If you could have been told one thing that you weren’t told when you were a teenager, what would you like to have heard?
5. Name your favorite song.
6. If you were to get a tattoo, what would it say or what would the graphic be?
7. What was your favorite TV show when you were growing up?
8. If you could spend 15 minutes with any living person, who would it be and why?
9. Have you ever had a reoccurring dream? What was it?
10. When was the last time you did something for the first time? What was it?
11. What do you think is best feeling in the world?
LASTLY, let me tell you the rules of The Liebster Award
1. Thank and link back to the person who nominated you.
2. Answer the questions created by the person who nominated you.
3. Nominate 11 other bloggers, who have less than 200 followers and link them.
4. Create 11 new questions for the nominees to answer.
5. Notify all nominees of their nomination for the award.
A few thoughts.....
Desire is a fundamental passion.
"This is just the kind of sense that's... not."
a couple of metaphors dripping from a broken soul | cocooned by solitude | afraid to love | lover of afrika | daughter of pain | wanderer | seeker | attracted to flowers🌼 | a hippie living in the wrong generation | nehanda's baby girl | occasionally sane | decolonised bohemian | recovering hopeless-romantic | in love with love | i have a medical condition, it's called hurt-phobia | somedays i love with my eyes, my heart is lazy | i prefer something else but they call me liz |
Infinite words in ink
What I've always wanted
© Swati Chaturvedi
Making a blank paper come to life, with a few lines
In the kingdom of life, with the strokes of the brush, the bow and the pen, artists have sowed their hearts to contrive, fields rivalling in beauty the Garden of Eden.
Scribbles on Cocktail Napkins
Mental chaos defines me!
Thoughts, ideas, experiences
writing, persisting, becoming.
"Literature is language charged with meaning." Ezra Pound