Friday Fiction - Sparks of Imagination

If you ever see me staring off into nothing, there's a good chance I'm writing in my head. Here's a peek at what is often going on in my noggin - 




SPARKS OF IMAGINATION

What beautiful evening! My husband and I lounge before a crackling campfire. The flames mesmerize me. I listen to the chirping crickets and gurgling stream. The night sounds put my mind into a creative mode. A log tumbles, and sparks dance upward into the night sky to join the stars. Ah! Personification! 

Sparks dance upward to the sky
They turn this way and that…


Hmmm… I need something to rhyme with “sky.” My mind flips through its internal vocabulary list. ...shy, by, die, try, sigh, why, fly…FLY!

Sparks dance upward to the sky;
They spin around and upward fly.


No, I already used “upward.” …skyward? heavenward? spaceward?...sigh…Maybe I need to go another way. 

Sparks dance upward to the sky;
Giggling, spinning—higher, higher!
Joining the stars in the dark sky…


I can do better than that. Couplets are too common. I’ll make an alternating rhyme pattern. What other word means “join?” ...mix, merge, mingle…

Sparks dance skyward—higher, higher!
Mingling with the starry host,
Giggling, spinning—specks of fire.
Jewels on the heav’nly coast.


That’s not too bad, but the lines don’t match in rhythm. 

I count out the syllables on my fingers.

Sparks-dance-sky-ward-high-er-high-er


I need eight syllables. Are they iambic or trochaic? I can’t remember which is which.

Sparks dance skyward—higher, higher,
Twirling with the starry million,
Giggling, spinning—specks of fire.
At the universe cotillion.


Ah! Now we’re getting somewhere. I need to describe the ballroom now.

Gliding across velvet indigo,


What rhymes with “indigo”… show, blow, grow, arpeggio?

To the trill of the cricket arpeggio.


No, that has too many syllables. 

Gliding o’er velvet indigo,
Waltzing to crickets’ arpeggio,


I like that! Now what else can I do? Maybe something about singing…

Evening birds sing a lullaby…


I’m back to the words that rhyme with “sky.” 

Evening birds sing a lullaby;
Soft breezes whisper a gentle sigh.


Now, alternate them. 

Gliding o’er velvet indigo,
Evening birds sing a lullaby;
Waltzing to crickets’ arpeggio,
Soft breezes whisper a gentle sigh.


ARGH! What a mess! I’ve got to rearrange those lines and fix them somehow.

Evening birds sing a lullaby,
Crickets chirping arpeggio,
Breezes whisper a gentle sigh,
Jewels waltzing on indigo.


Whew! That’s better. I really ought to write this down, but I’d have to find a pencil …and paper…which is in my bag…in the car. Let me go over what I’ve done so far. 

Sparks dance skyward—higher, higher,
Twirling with the starry million,
Giggling, spinning—specks of fire.
At the universe cotillion.

Evening birds sing a lullaby,
Crickets chirping arpeggio,
Breezes whisper a gentle sigh,
Jewels waltzing on indigo.


Hmmm…what else can I add? 

“Oh, look, Dear!” I nudge my husband. “There’s a full moon tonight.”

The glowing moon shines over all,
Ascends above dark silhouettes,
Majestic trees and waterfall…


Silhouettes is a great word, but it will be hard to find something to rhyme with it. 

I close my eyes and listen to the night sounds. 

It’s so peaceful. There’s a whippoorwill calling and an owl, too. It sounds like a duet. Hey! That rhymes with silhouette!

And owl and whippoorwill duets.


That stanza was easier. I’m getting pretty good at this! I really ought to write it down. If I say it over again and again, I’m sure I’ll remember it. 

Sparks dance skyward—higher, higher,
Twirling with the starry million,
Giggling, spinning—specks of fire.
At the universe cotillion.

Evening birds sing a lullaby,
Crickets chirping arpeggio,
Breezes whisper a gentle sigh,
Jewels waltzing on indigo.

The glowing moon shines over all
Ascends above dark silhouettes,
Majestic trees and waterfalls
And owl and whippoorwill duets.


How should I end my poem?

“Honey! You’re blanket is burning!” 

Jumping up, I throw the smoldering cloth on the ground. I stomp and thump and then GASP as icy water swooshes over me. I look at my husband standing before me with an empty pail. “What did you do that for?” 

He grins at my dripping hair and plastered shirt and shrugs. “The fire’s out.” 

I watch the last ember sputter and die at my feet. 

“What were you thinking about anyway? Your mind was a million miles away.”

Hmmm…what was I thinking about?

1 comment:

Laury said...

Randy put a damper on that poem:) Funny.

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