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What Kind of Dreams

What Kind of Dreams

A Chapter by TLK
"

Falling. Smashing.

"
The child was reluctant, obstructive, rudely derogated the rules of night-time. In return, the mothers smile crusted over; her anticipating face raged with love, with tenderness, with necessity.

Hold back desperation: “Shall I read you a story?” Yes, a boring story, a story to bore your little eyes closed and your little head droopy and your little snores out.

All children learn to say no and this one was a champion already. Still gentle and formless it was not quite male, not quite female. It was androgynous, sexless, precocious with the possibilities of a gender unslated -- as if pigeon-holes could be sated at a later date. A choice depending on pointing out a celebrity from a picture in a magazine, and saying: ‘that one’.

“I don’t want to be in bed.”

This was said from bed, defiant, huddled and muddled within the pastry of the sheets and wriggling like a still-living filling. Four-and-twenty blackbirds, all singing.

Isn’t this a pretty dish thought mother.

“But bed is good,” she reasoned, “bed is a fine fine thing to be in.” She eyed it herself, covetously, the crispness of the linen holding the warm buttered biscuit smell of a child’s hair.

“Bed isn’t good. It’s lonely.”

Yes, lonely, sang the mother to herself, alone to be with myself only. Swaying with sleeplessness, mother’s voice burst with secrets.

“Bed is good. It is. It is where you were made.”

And you, child, are a good thing. Making you was good. Therefore beds are good.

Mother blinked dreamily, lies rushing unbidden to fill the gap between a child's world and the truth; the question came immediately.

“Have you ever seen someone making a pot out of clay?” she asked in response. Her arms raised in front of the child’s face. “Have you ever seen the clay sculpted, squeezed?” Then she lowered them. “And this was the oven. This is where you were baked.”

She wondered what kind of dreams these lies would bring, dreams of whispered fertility, Freudian dreams of plumbers removing bottoms and widdlers. Dreams of children baked out of clay and, rocked from the cradle; falling, smashing.



© 2013 TLK



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Featured Review

The phrasing is very nice, and I do like the final image - it's concise, but practical and it works with the rest of the piece. My concern is describing the mothers face like a moon and hair like a sunset. It's just a very familiar trope, and loses power for that reason.

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 5 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

TLK

5 Years Ago

Agreed. However, I wanted the imagery to conspire in her sleepiness, unguardedness, and lack of pow.. read more



Reviews

Not many people could have portrayed what you did here. Well done.

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 5 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

An excellent piece, beautifully stark I would say. Poetry or prose or what have you, it's heartfelt and stirring.

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 5 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

TLK

5 Years Ago

There is a starkness to it. I think it grows out of the tiredness of the mother. She lets slip a l.. read more
Not gettin' into the prose-poetry controversy, T.
This is what I call "excellent writing"; writing very few could have produced.

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 5 Years Ago


TLK

5 Years Ago

Then we must teach others, so that good writing is everywhere; and no-one will go hungry again.
prose says things directly, though often enough poorly...prose-poetry includes things like 'consuming wakefulness' and all good poetry (prose- or not) is tangential

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 5 Years Ago


TLK

5 Years Ago

I WILL FIGHT TO DEFEND PROSE.
/puts fists up.

I hope this piece was tangential en.. read more
In all honesty, it seemed more like a story rather than a prose poem. No offence, I mean, you do have an interesting concept, but it's positioned in more of a chapter book form.

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 5 Years Ago


Tai Ryens

5 Years Ago

I'd sooner sneeze into a tissue and smudge it on a homeless person; in other words: I know nothing.
TLK

5 Years Ago

My first and so far only blog post is on trying to define prose poetry. I don't know if you can see.. read more
Tai Ryens

5 Years Ago

I'm not too much a fan of prose; no offense intended. I'd much rather stick to freeverse and the tr.. read more

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Added on August 20, 2012
Last Updated on May 8, 2013
Tags: bed, child, mother, lies
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Author

TLK
TLK

Birmingham, West Midlands, United Kingdom



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Signed up to the Pledge to Civil Conduct in Discourse on Writer's Cafe: please challenge me if you think I am breaking either the letter or the spirit of the rules. I try to review well myself (see.. more..

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