Dancing in Character

A Confounded letter about her lost ghostly love.

 

Light enough for drawing now. A Winter birth and a Summer breath. Coming soon together in such a young life. Relationships that fed first in water, upending and duck head down dabbling.

The meeting and marriage of strangers and the finding of anything corporeal beyond sleeping together. The wishes of the heart that were paid for in certain collected rents. Deferred ambitions that were never laid to rest

Very young meetings in sunshine meadows followed years later by the leavings of feeling in stubble fields of rain. He was an artist friend in those days but not then the season's only lover.

Only when she finally came of age did the light youth feel as one within a group of Summer wishing. All was highest ever cloud and blue. Lights of palest gold sparkled crisp on her young blonde beauty. It was when all her refused learning was examined anyway. On the boards that her artist used for his drawings. When the ways of young men were always green and the tempestuous was rigourously sweet and forever final. When he first saw her. When he drew her.

It is too dark now

A warring lover is only hated after all these years. After the great sheen of blue mistakes and all the ruby red disappointments. After the skin lines had knotted deep and the lengths of roped hair had finally lost their added colour. Lustre that was only alive in shallow added cream skin. Autumn was aged in dark forgotten vats and nut cracked cast off's with nothing to help and nobody to listen.

It was then he came back, walking slowly and without the usual sunken pebbled ripples. When she found he was still drawing, she finally feared his lingering death. He said he wished to become her artist once more. Her clever drawn partnered peace. She loved his ghost pencil rough across her aged elastic thoughts.  His illed starred charcoal presence in the final fulfilment of her lack.

Yet the dead have no urgency. No pure pink juices flowing. There are no sweet hormones for those who are gone. No quick white streams of ambition. All anger and loves are lost simply in the act of going. Ghosts fail relationships forever. Hauntings can only hurt themselves. The dead cannot draw.

Author's Note

Changes in Tense are deliberate. The photograph is mine and is called Dancing in Character. It is Glen Coe in Scotland for those who are interested.

Reviews

[EMF]

Ken..... there are so many things to hate about you. You are a fantastic writer, a marvelous photographer and a really nice bloke. Which is why I can't bring myself to do it... but I'll work on it. This is exceptional work. But that's what I've come to expect when I look at anything of yours.

[Ken Simm.]

I can paint as well. (Show off, I know) But I can't make a decent sausage butty.

[Ken Simm.]

Oh and thanks so much for the wonderful words about the write.

[EMF]

Would you prefer predictable or honest. Either way it is a faultless example of painting a ticture with words.

[Ken Simm.]

From you I wonder, (in the nicest possible way) which is funnier? Then that's the one I want. Thats because I do take myself too seriously at times.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i can't paint...but i can make a good "egg in a basket"!

[Nobody.]

Beautiful writing. Amazing photo. Are you an artistic super hero/villain? :)

Dug this dude. Through and through. brilliance.

Cheers!

[Ken Simm.]

Both amongst other things.

[roarke]

Fabulous photo. Incredible atmospheric light, nice catch.

It's always rewarding to learn the images and emotions of passion from someone who can render them. Opulent metaphors of love, woven with an artists voice. Very few can capture this essence.

[Ken Simm.]

Now there is a word I enjoy Opulent. To have it attached to this makes it that much more enjoyable.

[lee von cleef]

Slow to the meat but then, oh it gets deep, and the waters darken, even the gray moon can't lift the spirit,she will turn over rocks ,and re hang the old pictures but the ghost has won all in the end . Well done.

[Ken Simm.]

I think the ghost always will. A belated but nonetheless heartfelt thankyou.

[lee von cleef]

Who pays attention to time, that slippery phantom never shuts the door.

[emmajoy]

'The dead cannot draw' so we gasp and wonder at the sweet skill of a being who paints with words then sets down foundations for the deepest, strongest yet most fragile memories, even the ones that are supposed to be gone, but, lie hidden, wrapped in tissue paper and too easily peeped at

(Am interested, Glen Coe - a precious eternity.)

[Ken Simm.]

These memories are fragile indeed. You are right there Emma.

[ba_mcfarlane]

This takes me back to bittersweet in my life. A dancer, though no longer on pointe, is always a dancer. She went on to other art, creators must create. The love was sweet. The loss was harsh. Thank you (I think) for stirring the memories. Beautiful work, no emotion shirked, so brave.

[Ken Simm.]

I am still thinking as well. Thank you

[Ken Simm.]

And so true Creators must create.

[h d e rushin]

"all anger and loves are lost simply in the act of going" A magnificent line.
This poem is packed with power and dense imagery. Sometimes the images
gave no provisions for a man with little sleep and a little dog next door who
won't stop barking, but this is a good write and I enjoyed it.....thanks for
sharing it. dana.

[Ken Simm.]

I'll try to remember the dog next time. Thanks for liking.

[Emily B]

this is gorgeous, Ken, I was not in any place to read last week. Your words challenge me. They tempt me. Make me yearn for art.

[Ken Simm.]

Now that is a result. I'm glad they do that.

[cartera]

As befits a story/poem built around an artist, you dip into a palette of colour to describe other material. The decorative prose contrasts well with the plain hardness of the last two sentences. The last sentence ends the matter with certain finality.
..................
I know Glencoe well, but I have never seen it quite as ethereal as it is in your photograph. My new desktop. By your leave.
ATB
Alex.

[Ken Simm.]

Ofcourse Alex. Again I am honoured that you wish to use it.