Words in the Void
Snippets of writing from stuff that hangs around in notebooks and grows stale. A little bit of this and a little bit of that.
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I’m going to put all of the content from the cooking blog and the writing blog together. Mainly because I’m doing more cooking and no writing at the moment. Also, it is confusing to have two!
So, to sum up, from now on you’ll be seeing both food and creative writing here. Aren’t you lucky. I might call is Words Jus/sauced, or stick with the name of my new cake stall: Red’s Choux
P.S- I love the word amalgamation.
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Today’s experiment- hand made flat bread from the River Cottage Handbook of Bread.
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Desolation. I’ll write something based on this tomorrow. I took it with a reconditioned Olympus Trip. It give such beautiful depth to the colour and lovely eerie quality to the light.
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Came ASTORETH, whom the PHOENICIANS call’d
ASTARTE, Queen of Heav’n, with crescent Horns;
To whose bright Image nightly by the Moon
SIDONIAN Virgins paid their Vows and Songs,
In SION also not unsung, where stood
Her Temple on th’ offensive Mountain [the Mount of Olives], built
By that uxorious King [Solomon], whose heart though large,
Beguil’d by fair Idolatresses, fell
To Idols foul.John Milton, Paradise Lost: Book 1 -
I’m feeling in need of some alone time. The next post is the result. It’s probably a bit too melodramatic but that’s how I’m feeling. It’s nice to write something without tweaking it for hours. Two tweaks. Done.
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He had found his place, a sliver of darkness in the lichen covered rocks. It seemed appropriate. The inside of the cave was cool and damp, unlike the day outside. It was peaceful; from inside all he could feel was a wisp of a sea breeze. This would be his place.
The floor of the cave was sandy and damp. Similarly, the rock walls dripped with water, making the air sticky and the lichen prosperous. He shuffled through the gloom, leaving socks and shoes by mouth of the cave to warm in the sun. The feeling that adventure waited just beyond his reach was palpable. The darkness of the cave drew him further onwards, past the wallpaper of moss to a drier, even cooler area. Cold. Dark.
Beyond the elliptical curve of the cave mouth, out of reach of the breeze, the darkness lost its freshness. The walls curved inwards, narrowing and then declining- herding him like cattle.
He must have turned a corner. This part of the cave was cut off from the light and heat of the day completely. He stood in the darkness and stretched his hands out to touch the walls, but they were out of reach. His finger tips strained for purchase, arms stretched to their limit until it hurt. It was a void.
Then he was afraid. What lay in the dark? He should move forward, explore the entire system, and maybe find the remains of ancient man or civilisations. Excitement welled up in a tidal rush. This would be something of his, only his. His mind flicked through the possibilities: exploration, adventure, and treasures. Then came the doubts: isolation, inexperience, loneliness, risk and danger.
He stood there, with his arms out, unmoving. His hands felt frozen and remote. He ought to fold himself inwards and move forwards but he didn’t. He daren’t, to move would be to draw attention to himself- to wave accidentally to the peeping deep. The cold crept inwards and the darkness pressed onwards. He could feel something out there, beyond what he could see, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.
The moment was filled with possibility and then it was gone. He turned his back and was blinded by the sun. The way back lay illuminated in front of him. He hastily made his way back through the lichen and the sandy pools to his socks and shoes, which were warm and welcoming. He half turned as he left. The darkness caught the corner of his eye, trying to tempt him backwards. The hermit stopped for a moment, cocked his head and went back to the world.
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Dark
You kiss my blood red lips,
smearing away the careful brush stokes,
delving for fresh growth beneath the concrete,
while a search light locks on to my lingering gaze.
Caught. The slow of the tock and the tick.
Captive within the ebony of your eye-
convex refractions blur me until I am soft;
skin like snow
Clear and perfect through the fine filter of the iris.
The well worn contours of my face reimagined under your gaze.
Me, thought immutable, transformed.
Then reflected back. A piercing beam that lights a fire along my cheeks,
giving me back myself more beautiful, praised,
appraised and evaluated at a higher worth than before.
Truly, to you, the fairest of them all.
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I’ve decided to set up a Tumblr account for my writing, otherwise it won’t go anywhere. Essentially this will be a way of showing the stuff to at least one other person. Feel free to leave feedback. Try to be nice, or at least constructive.
There might also be some pictures of baking in the mix too. I am so hip.
