The Green Woodpecker.

The Green Woodpecker.

A Story by Ken Simm.
"

An Englishman abroad Confounded.

"
 

Horsetails of spider tailed spuming white on damp washed blue. Bunched mistletoe globed white spheres ejaculated onto a purest green cloth. Stoned soft crags of buttered yellow. The Norman William b******s favourite stone bursting relieved from swallowing sticky sly cloaking ivy. Sounds of living in and on water. Clucked and screeched noises both natural and engineered, passing along and beyond this feudal country river. Monuments to and movements for forgotten lives lived on shining ox bow bends and raised fleeting, sand shoals.

Three graves at a bend in the river for the first and greatest genius of all in his adopted death land. With resting places so important here and celebrated by all for what they bring.

University expeditions to find earthen sherds washed along these temporary shoals. Caesarean and Charlemagne pots broken, cracked and telling long forgotten tales.

A bridge and a place of breezed liquid rest. A cafe, a studio and a falling water spider legged jetty. Large barges, bicycles and wine both bottled and grape vine growing beyond and down from elaborate faerie floating towered and crenellated castles. Light clouded skies against river tamed gorged and green valleys. A really rich old man river flowing brown and gold and green and shining blue to a storm  bay in the huge ocean sea..

Gypsies in primary painted caravans with secondary painted animals. Horse and dry barking warning dogs. Night time midged watermeadow with border mistletoe trees and gunned green woodpecker. Banging a speared red top knot against other more knotty problems. The sound echoing across the pastoral calm evening river.

Fires and dancing, small guitars playing and woodsmoke cooking. Parties down with spluttering, rich scented pipes to wash in a flat mirror river. These painted pipes shared.

A much older woman asking in wonderful English if I liked; and I said I did. Lost then forever in a journey to somewhere much different and without the romance to follow.

© 2010 Ken Simm.


Advertise Here
Want to advertise here? Get started for as little as $5

My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register




Featured Review

It is a portrait, in the visual and prose senses. The detail reflects a keen eye and the ability to translate that eye to the page, which is just about as hard to do as anything in writing can be to do. The pacing--languid, easy without descending into an inappropriate Hemingway-esque brusqueness--is pitch perfect.

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

[send message][befriend] Subscribe
...
. oh ... what an absolutely stunning piece of writing, monsieur ... exquisite in ever sense ... for all senses ... amazingly inspiring work ...

Posted 7 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

It is a portrait, in the visual and prose senses. The detail reflects a keen eye and the ability to translate that eye to the page, which is just about as hard to do as anything in writing can be to do. The pacing--languid, easy without descending into an inappropriate Hemingway-esque brusqueness--is pitch perfect.

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

My favorite painting in LIFE!! But then you know that.

Night time midged watermeadow with border mistletoe trees and gunned green woodpecker. Banging a speared red top knot against other more knotty problems. The sound echoing across the pastoral calm evening river.

The stuff dreams are made of.

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

You make me want to get out there a live a bit. It sounds like a great jaunt. My favourite line is 'Banging a speared red top knot against other more knotty problems.'

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

You have given the reader such wonderful descriptive scenes...a beautiful path you travel...you took me there... a lovely read...



Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

'Monuments to and movements for forgotten lives lived on shining ox bow bends and raised fleeting, sand shoals.' How i miss your musical words, Ken .. you don't need crotchets and quavers, just twenty six letters making magic.

What a wonderful journey you took, full of colour and memories, noticing the smaller magics of being somewhere new to you, 'Bunched mistletoe globed white spheres ejaculated onto a purest green cloth' .. ' A really rich old man river flowing brown and gold and green and shining blue to a storm bay in the huge ocean sea.. .. Gypsies in primary painted caravans with secondary painted animals. Horse and dry barking warning dogs. Night time midged watermeadow with border mistletoe trees and gunned green woodpecker. '

I would have been there if I could .. wonderful.

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

purest poetry . . . wonderful to read

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

What a lovely scene you have painted with your words, almost of times forgotten about life in a caravan. You could almost hear the knocking on the wood knots from the woodpecker too. And I saw a picture of the spider you describe in this, and am amazed at how graceful they can glide over the water. Isn't nature wonderful!

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Gypsies in primary painted caravans with secondary painted horses. Night time midged watermeadow with border mistletoe trees and gunned green woodpecker. Banging a red top knot against other more knotty problems.

I love this. All of it is beautiful, though. I kept seeing image and image
unfold in such splendor. Excellent.

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

1097 Views
9 Reviews
Rating
Shelved in 1 Library
Added on October 8, 2010
Last Updated on October 12, 2010
Tags: romance, France, French, river, love, biography, memoir

Author

Ken Simm.
Ken Simm.

Scotland, United Kingdom



About
'I should not talk so much about myself if there were anybody else whom I knew as well. Unfortunately, I am confined to this theme by the narrowness of my experience' Thoreau. For all those who .. more..

Writing

Related Writing

People who liked this story also liked..


within within

A Poem by TamiViolet