Monday November 8th, 2010

The exercise:

Let's go with: covered with snow.

Kat and I went for a drive up in the mountains this afternoon and came across snow for the first time this year. I took a couple pictures of the snow, but I liked this one, which I took on the way back, the best:


Writing is... actually done before I post this, for once. Definitely felt like it went better today.

Mine:

The road is covered with snow
And we both know
That we have a long way to go.

And I know I'll get us there
With so much care
While you try not to tear your hair.

With such care I look at you
And know it's true
That we will make it through this too.

10 comments:

Greg said...

I love the picture and the suggestion of isolation (actually, I found that a lot flying across Canada), but... no snow? What happened to the picture of the first snow?
The poem's wonderful, slightly silly and has a light jaunty rhythm. How accurate is the second verse for you and Kat then?

Covered with snow
Black tracks on a white background like the spoor of prey treacherously revealed in snow. Shoeprints, small and delicate; a woman's pace, and signs that she's limping. Irregular depth, that's the giveaway. She's been this way.
Mr. Bendix sighs, a long expulsion of breath that condenses in the air in front of him, then freezes solid and tingles to the ground. He ignores the symbolism of life shattering and stands up, looking around.
The sun is weak, over his shoulder, and the ploughed fields stretch to the horizon to his left. Why has she left the relative safety of the frozen ground and pushed this way, towards water? He shrugs and starts walking, a measured, heavy pace that crushes plants and insects underfoot.
He wishes he didn't see everything in black and white. It's as though the world is covered in snow.

Watermark said...

Covered with snow

Dough of bread is in the making as I knead and stretch it to perfection on a cold and lonely slab of marble. The oven is on and waiting, but warming up the room. Fingers are dipped into soft, fluffy flour and I sprinkle on the dough and surface; a shower of light, white powder. There is something about it that reminds me of a bigger scene. Another sprinkling of flour and I look up. Outside the window, a different sort of shower and the ground is covered with snow.

----------
Marc: enjoyed your days 7 & 8 - looking forward to day 9 :)

Greg: love the symbolism in your piece :)

Zhongming said...

Hmm, i thought i'll use this chance to thank you all for the comments that you all left for me (for so many post!) - it's such a great pleasure to hear from you all :)

Marc - lovely poem! And that's a lovely picture as well. Great work!

I shall read day 8 once I have the time! :)

Greg - quite immersive piece today! Totally drawn into the motion picture of it. Great work! :)

Watermark - lovely comparison with bread making. It feels logical to me. Great work! :)

---

Covered with snow

Little white snowflakes just fall onto my face. The law of gravity is simply outstanding. It didn't take long before my whole feet is covered with snow. It's beautiful. The cold freezing weather and snow is a great compliment to anybody who feels lonely. I stood there and witness the snow falling from great heights. It's such a wonderful phenomenal to be able to truly feel at ease and calm. I love it!

When I'm indoor, I feel the warmth. Slipping a little tea while I hover my hands over the fire. I look out through the small windows and the white snowy scene simply lockout my vision. I saw a couple running around and throwing snowball at each other. It looked like they're having fun, real fun. 

summerfield said...

covered with snow:

High in the mountains, covered with snow, they found Aleena. There was no mistaking the high cheek bones, the thick long lashes, the luscious lips and the mole on her right chin, just below he lower lip, as tiny as one of the beads of the pearl strand she wore around her neck the day she went missing. The most beautiful girl in the village, the smartest girl in class, her future held so much promise. And she was in love, with André, her handsome friend and future husband. Their plan was she would go to the capital and study to become a teacher, and she would come back to the village, she and André would built a school and she would teach the little children, perhaps including her and André’s own.

Aleena’s disappearance was a mystery to everyone. So unlikely for a conscientious girl with grand ambitions, they said. Some thought she ran away with another man. Wasn’t there a strange man from the next town around that time who had once seen Aleena and he could not take his eyes off her, and she couldn't take her eyes off him, too? The police said he killed Aleena, he said so in his written statement, which he later recanted because he cannot tell them where her body was. Still he stayed in prison for many years before he was released, old and diseased.

André grieved for a long time but eventually left the village. Now, he, too, was an old man.

Thirty-five years ago, Aleena vanished just like that, a girl of eighteen looking ahead to a wonderful life that everyone in the village had wished for her. And as suddenly as she vanished, now unexpectedly they found her body. She looked like she was asleep, a smile frozen in her lips. Because time had frozen her perfectly, even the dagger buried in her heart, the one with the hand-carved handle. The one with André’s name on it.

allycatadventures said...

He promised hope and change.
He vowed to end devisiveness.
Restore harmony.
Part the waters.
Raise the American spirit.
Close Gitmo.
Keep unemployment below 8 percent.
Covered with snow: the Obama agenda. His snow job.

allycatadventures said...

@ Marc - Nice conveying of the trudging element of snow.
@ Greg - Nice visuals and use of contrasting black and white.
@ Watermark - A creative combination of snow and flour!
@ Zhongming - brrrrrrr!
@ summerfield - Our loved ones are always the first suspects in a murder, eh?

Heather said...

Marc- My mood, dictated by today's responsibilities, was not ready for the silliness in your poem. The rhythm, however, was very nice.

Greg- Much more fitting of my mood. Beautifully done. I think, perhaps, you have more time on your hands than you said OR you've grown as a writer. Another beautifully drawn story. Thank you.

Watermark- Well done. I enjoyed the comparison.

Zhongming- Have you experienced snow? (I have no idea where you live and considering some of my students have never seen snow and are 10 years older than I am, I think it is a fair question.) Just curious. I never feel calm in the snow, just cold.

Summerfield- Nicely done. And thank you for answering the question of who and how.

As for mine, a true story. A rarity for me, but I am not complaining Marc. No need to pull out a bar, a unicorn, etc.
--------

I was born in January in a climate quite conducive to snow, although none had fallen that day or for many days before. Two weeks later, with the ground a dirty tundra of ice and mud, my mother wrapped me snuggly and held me close to her as the plane lifted sharply into the air. I, of course, have no memories of any of this.

I remember the blues and greens of the Pacific Ocean, the deep browns of volcanoes that stood for show, and the smells of Luaus. I smile thinking about the green bikini I couldn't bear to be without and the little Devil costume I wore to collect the first sweets of my life. But these are not my memories, they are pictures thrown into a shoe box which illicit the memories of others. Their details that have jarred themselves in tiny crevices of my brain matter.

No, my first memory, the one I can irrevocably lay claim to as mine and mine alone, brings goosebumps to my skin and causes my brain to shudder and my heart to skip a beat. My feet begin to feel cold and I shiver. It tells a story of who I was and whom I continue to be.

That same bundle of joy returned to that frozen land she had left four years prior. Having a voice now, one that communicated more clearly her ideas and desires, she refused the advice of her mother. Awakened from her nap by the stopping of the car, she reached for the handle and leaped toward her new life. She found a snowbank, still clean and white. It was a shock to her bear skin, the little sundress barely covering her.

Marc said...

Greg - ah, the second verse? Um... rather accurate :)

Fantastic first line. Really enjoyed the rest as well.

Watermark - what a warm, welcoming bit of prose!

Zhongming - I think you're quite right, snow and loneliness seem to go hand in hand. Unless you're out playing in it :)

Summerfield - a true cold case, that one! Nicely executed ending too.

Oh dear, I am full of puns at the moment. My apologies.

Allycat - I think you conveyed your feelings very succinctly, which increased the impact of your writing.

Heather - I shall try to resist the urge to bring out the unicorns again :)

That last line made me want to go sit by the fire, under a blanket, with a warm cup of tea. Brrrrrrrr.

Zhongming said...

@all – thanks for your wonderful comments :)

@Heather – The answer is no. I’ve never experience snow before. I wish I could. Maybe one day I should travel somewhere just to experience snow! By the way, I’m residing in a little country called “Singapore”. It doesn’t have four seasons and it’s pretty warm throughout the year. I’ll be lucky to have temperature say around 25 degree? Anyway the piece that I wrote earlier was all from my imagination since I’ve never experience snow before. I shall get back to this once I got my first hand experience in a snow, in future! Cheers :)

morganna said...

It's heeeere. First snow, second snow, three inches and counting.