Sunday, February 15, 2009


There was a beautiful woman, refined in every way. She kept a gallery in which she hung the heads and faces of strange anecdotal creatures. She would light a candle beneath them from time to time and they would amuse with wonderous songs, stories and rhymes. But after a time each would grow weary and reflect back on distant memories. Their tears would extinguish the waxy flame with a sputter and she would leave them there in the dark, locking the door behind her until they once again forgot to remember. - Lord David


Anonymous said...

This is an intriguing poem, but I think you may have gotten the storyline wrong. I think the story would be better if it went more like this:
1) There are not a set of creatures, but rather only two creatures who played a pivotal role;
2) I think the creatures were in no way "anecdotal" because they existed in a realm far beyond mere anecdote. They are more like pivotal protagonists in a huge, 5000-page epic novel -- I think it might be what they call a "magnum opus"? It's more an ornate, Dostoevsky-ian/ Dickensian sort of web of interrelated characters, and these two stood out as crucial, major protagonists. The story is, unfortunately, a Tragedy, but she hopes against all odds that she can somehow turn it into a Comedy -- because she is the eternal optimist. That's why she keeps returning to that gallery.
I just think it makes for a better storyline, probably closer to reality.
--Abortive Rooting Hog
(also known as Tension Haddock)

Lord David said...

First, let me thank you for reading this blog at all, especially this snippet of verse.

Free verse is totally open to interpretation, of course, so getting "the story line wrong" simply isn't an option.

This piece is a metaphore for an actual person and her habits of 'collecting people' in her life because she fouind them interesting, and binding them to her, somehow, emotionally, to draw upon their energy when she needed it. In return she offered a sense of isolation and non existence.

That, dear reader, is as close to reality as it gets.

Lord David said...

Dear Tension Haddock;

As an afterthought, it sounds as though you have a novel in your head, waiting to be written. Let me be among those who encourage you to put your story to words.

Giving life to a story seems to be in your blood.