Monday July 25th, 2011

The exercise:

Let's see what we can do with: left behind.

Weather was quite garbage today, but we still managed to get some good work done in the garden. The forecast is more promising for the rest of the week, but we shall see how accurate they are this go 'round.


The call to evacuate found them sound asleep in their beds. There was no time to pack, no time to think. They were out of the house before they were fully awake.

Helicopters filled the sky, drowning out the instructions being broadcast from the military vehicles below. They stood in a dazed shock before being gathered up and escorted to a crowded shelter.

Groups were airlifted away every three minutes, as many men and women as each aircraft could safely carry. They waited for their turn in silence.

It wasn't until they were in the air fifteen minutes later that they fully realized they had left their old lives behind, never to be retrieved.


Greg said...

Is the weather bad for you, or for the garden?
The first thing your story made me think of was the shootings in Norway this weekend, which I think gave it an additional chill while I was reading it. For such a short piece it's really quite sinister.

Left behind
Footsteps still linger on the London Bridge,
Burned into solid stone by the weight of portent.
Phlebitis stands for a moment,
Staring up at the southern gate,
Unwilling to confront his fate.

A small boy laughs;
There are no teeth in his mouth,
And the coat he wears is too large.
Without knowing it, Phlebitis has somehow
Left him behind.
And like dancers on a Möbius strip
They step sideways
And now Phlebitis is leading again.

The Piccadilly throne is waiting,
Or was possibly left behind.
City Directors gather in fear,
A small boy screams a warning,
A teapot shatters in a rooming house,
And time, freed from its mooring,
Offers up an entirely new future.

Denin said...

The tan brick buildings loom in my hindsight.
Guitar slung across my left shoulder
and my belongings in a thread-weary bag,
suspended from the other.
I try not to gaze back at the campus,
because I know the secrets contained within their walls
are the archives of my life.
But despite my efforts, my past will haunt me,
in ways both empowering and crippling.

The oldest of the records impart their wisdom to me.
The youngers remind me to never forget my humble origins.
And the youngest of all taught me how to live.

Most of them weren't real,
just props fallen through the holes in my stage
at critical moments.
But some of them remain,
their shadows burned into the film
that covers the reel room
of my mind.

Impulsively I pivot to look back at the walls.
I stand much taller than them.
They stand,
almost bowed before me,
as I have outgrown them.

I turn back around.
The new walls tower ninety feet tall.
But already I sense them coming down to welcome me
until I can stand looking over them.
Like the world I left behind,
this one too cannot contain me for long.

Andrew said...

Shopping in the grocery store,
A kid finds it a bore.
He wanders away,
So that he may,
Return to his parents, adored.

My thought process there is that the parents will love their kid more after having accidentally left them behind, although maybe they did it on purpose. Hmmm...

Marc said...

Greg - both. The raspberries are the only things seeming to enjoy all this cool and wet weather.

You paint a heck of a vivid scene with your poem, particularly the boy in the second stanza.

Denin - wonderfully done.

Andrew - the 'on purpose' option is definitely more sinister!

Anonymous said...

I'm sorry, love
Remember when you told me I was perfect?
That I had no flaws?
And you were in disbelief
When I told you I disagreed?
Well, I'm sure you're thinking differently now.
I told you I was indecisive, unreliable, unstable.
Why didn't you listen to me, love? I don't want to hurt you anymore, Any more than I already have.
I don't want to let you go,
But let's be honest,
I've already left you behind.

Marc said...

Anon - very beautifully done.

Kim said...

Ive been left behind and I have poem:
I don't like being alone,
I hate being on my own,
this is because Im accident prone.
Hope you like my poem:):D

Ruby said...

As I screamed on and on mum did nothing she just sat there like a statue. She then finally said,"What?".
I answered, " Where is Molly?". Mum didn't say anything back she just ran to the car and was back 10 minutes later with Molly.