Writingpoetry

[ Join Free! ]
(No Spam mail)

dotsdots
nav
  • RolePlay
  • Join Us
  • Writings
  • Shoutbox
  • Community
  • Digg Mashup
  • Mp3 Search
  • Online Education
  • My Youtube
  • Ear Training
  • Funny Pics
  • nav



    nav
  • Role Play
  • Piano Music
  • Free Videos
  • Web 2.0
  • nav



    << | >>
    poetry


    dots Submission Name: the chairdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: blackbird
    ASL Info:    31/male/reykjavik iceland
    Elite Ratio:    2.35 - 194/328/300
    Words: 583
    Class/Type: Story/Dark
    Total Views: 512
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 3287



    Description:
       


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsthe chairdots
    -------------------------------------------


    The grain swells. Since 1902. The oak fills the room, and the objects fill his vision, and his vision nearly pours out of the sockets of his eyes. Spit fills his mouth. He has purchased two chairs. He has put them in this room, his work room. They sit before him, asking.

    A rope thick-bristled and raw as an arm half in his hand, half coiled on the floor. His own arm twitching in the faintest pulse imaginable before he moves.

    Their backs face one another. Two arcs doubling. The wood curving in that impossible way that wood does. The velvet of the red seats sanguine beyond dried blood. Personless familiars. They sit dead in the way that chairs move us.

    With the slowness of breath he laces the rope through the back arc of one, then the other. With the carefulness of a carpenter he swings his arm forward, back, forward, looking skyward; faith. With the skill of a man in the middle of his life he pitches the rope up and up and of course around a metal pipe jutting like pipes do from the ceiling. He has calculated the action in his mind. He has seen each second laying itself bare as if in an architectural diagram. He has considered every moment in excruciating detail. His hands are dirty. His fingernails lined with black. Splinters sting each palm without his notice. The rope hovers like an idea suspended like ideas do for a long second, then over the pipe, then drops back down to him as if he perfectly asked.

    To lift the chairs. To watch them kiss themselves and knock wood against wood in a sound he has never heard before in his entire life, nor will. To witness their rising. Together. Forever like that. Tilted in against one another like some strange new species. Leaning taught like muscles or clenched teeth. The one against the other. Nearly unbearable.

    Hand over hand and the biceps pulling like biceps do. His eyes lifted. Blue. His mouth open slightly. His lips wetted. His tongue against his front teeth barely like that. The chords in his neck straining but with ease. His jaw present. Their weight is not heavy. Simply weighted in the most remarkable way.

    He has taken such care. Against the white wall, after the first day he saw them, before he spoke to the shop-keeper, moments after speaking to his wife (had he forgotten? Had he lost himself into a longing unnamable, some ache reaching for light? Her voice so familiar he no longer recognizes it, her thoughts dull as wood, her responses known to him like the back of his hand, repeating endlessly?) he has mounted a metal prong. When the chairs reach the ceiling (no, not the ceiling. Just under it. Like a word sent out to a listener doesn't meet them but comes as near as is possible to their own mouth), he pulls the rope toward the metal prong and laces it once, twice, three times, then drops the length of it to the floor. The rope thuds like a heart.

    There will be no knot, no certain stability. Their will be only this rope holding. He will work directly beneath them time and again. There will always remain the chance that they will fall, together like that, back to back, palm to palm, psalmed, there will always remain his not knowing, his longing, his wonder lifting.




    Submitted on 2007-03-21 19:17:06     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!




    ||| Comments |||
      oh .. oh wow. that's such a facinateing thought. to put him self in uncertain danger. some strange obession. how darkly poetic in his mind. lost all reason but those known to his mind. the shadowed whispers of his love who know's little of his strange dance with fate. leaving himself on the brink and constant possiblitiy of immediate change. his eye's like the sky, blue looking towards and beyond what may happen so that fear can push real life into his viens

    i really don't know what to say. and i know that there is much unsaid.

    ~shadow
    | Posted on 2007-03-21 00:00:00 | by in shadow | [ Reply to This ]


    Think Feedback more than Compliments :: [ Guidelines ]

    1. Be honest.
    2. Try not to give only compliments.
    3. How did it make you feel?
    4. Why did it make you feel that way?
    5. Which parts?
    6. What distracted from the piece?
    7. What was unclear?
    8. What does it remind you of?
    9. How could it be improved?
    10. What would you have done differently?
    11. What was your interpretation of it?
    12. Does it feel original?



    138481

    Be kind, take a few minutes to review the hard work of others <3
    It means a lot to them, as it does to you.

    Yes written by poetotoe
    The Old Mill written by Wolfwatching
    Silent Screams In Silent Dreams written by poetotoe
    My Four Seasons written by faideddarkness
    Journey written by endlessgame23
    The Unicorn written by BlazeFlamme
    mimicry written by expiring_touch
    I AM THANKFUL FOR written by Ramneet
    the testing of hypotheses written by Daniel Barlow
    Primitive Lapse written by Crestfallenman
    winners circle written by ShyOne
    Deep Into A World Of Despair written by DeathTone
    Blood Stains Are The Worst written by ForgottenGraves
    an unashamed poverty written by Daniel Barlow
    PEARL (Exclusive Poem) 10th Anniversary... written by Cordell
    Supernatural Cowboy Sleuth (5) written by endlessgame23
    Supernatural Cowboy Sleuth (2) written by endlessgame23
    Love written by saartha
    You read free written by poetotoe
    Waiting written by Daniel Barlow
    Supernatural Cowboy Sleuth (6) written by endlessgame23
    Physician, Heal Thyself written by WriteSomething
    Cover written by saartha
    AI written by poetotoe
    Carry written by saartha
    Formal Jen written by Daniel Barlow
    Records I written by Raphael
    Shut Up written by annie0888
    I, Plutarch written by HisNameIsNoMore
    i've missed written by mysalvation

    Google
     


    poetry

    dotsLogindots

    User Name:

    Password:

    [ Quick Signup ]
    [ Lost Password ]


    January 10 07
    131,497 Poems
    Posted

    I have 14,000+ Subscribers on Youtube. See my Video Tutorials

    [ Angst Poetry ]
    [ Cutters ]
    [ Famous Poetry ]
    [ Poetry Scams ]



    FontSize:
    [ Smaller ] [ Bigger ]
     Poetry