Tangible Tuesday

in microfiction •  16 days ago

{"The empty vessel makes the loudest sound" - William Shakespeare... Today's post contains a 250-word, 100-word and 50-word tasker entries for @jayna's contest... No music-aides for today.}

- Soundboard -

Oh how I talk to her,
oh how she listens,
oh how I hear her,
oh how she boards~

Elegance with each little letter,
presto with the effort put in,
that she make seem effortless,
oh how I ache when she's silent~

Yet there's more to that which I blush,
and no more than just blush, as I think
how she has been there soundboard me
and inject new ideas that I have thought not~

While the tale here edges so close,
close to the pond that Narcissus died in;
I think it more than a mere projection now
with the soul of hers that sounds nice to hear~

Like Lord Byron as he inks love down,
I want to be her own Lord Byron hey-ho;
also to dazzle her voice that rings about
and around my mind whenever I write~

Yet, oh how my heart aches thinking this sin!
Yet, I cannot truly experience her gracious
and careful guidance of which she supplies
in a manifold plenteous amounts to me~

If only I could traverse beyond the screen,
to use the internet as my seas now
and my computer as my boat of travel,
so then I can set sail to her flat and unite~

Yet, like the many unfinished follies the noisily plague
my cranium in non-stop motion like humming engines,
this is merely a drivel of a fantasy of which I cannot be
nor cannot attain of which I stand upon my two feet now~

Dziękuję bardzo!!!!~

- Hundred sounds undiscovered -

To my most esteemed friend,

Tell me, Dźwięk Corneliusa, how do the sounds beyond which we humans can hear? I've seen the reports and news for your new technology being talked about in public; I wonder if you have the time to elucidate the magic of these sounds. To hear not only the ends of the audible spectrum that the elderly cannot hear and the young can not remember. But to equally be able to live in the moment while hearing such! I await thy answers with great grace, whether in Poznań or by letter.

With sincere love,
Wiktoria Ski

- Fifty seconds -

"Okay, we're going live in fifty seconds!"

"Ready Markus?"

"More than ready. Hey! Let's do a mic check."

"Testing. X, Y, Z. Testing. One, two, three."

"Can hear you loud and clear, Edwin."

"Ready to rock our first show?"

"Yes! Sound off 'good morning' together and loud now."

"Good-morning!!!!~"

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Two things: I have some thinking to do '-' and I still have to go through the motions of what I actually am and who I am trying to cast out; that and I rather leave any context for "Soundboard" in the air except for the fact that only one person, which thankfully we managed to crawl out of the mire together (<3), will get the entire story of it. But even then, that should be still understandable and I shall purposefully accept the price of putting this out here with people never getting the entire picture. If mój Ukochany so wishes to give, then I shall so accept that; yet if she doesn't, then I shall be still happy with that. But that's already giving away a bit too much and, at the same time, doing some injustice to the events that unfolded... But for everything she's worth, for all the things I accept so much for whom she is and the fact I don't have to grow and learn alone as I spend my time with her doing all sorts of silly, really silly, things. Hope when she reads it, it at least make her see all her tales, stories, fiction-crafting and prose have done some good~ c:

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One should never have to grow and learn alone. For intertwining one's life with friends, loved ones, and other creatives is far more enriching. You are ever a mystery inside a conundrum, @theironfelix. But your creative energy is certainly something to behold!

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UwU ~ Thanks for reading and thanks for the compliments!
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<3 the poem here is so very well craft. A labor of love, each line aromatic in the air of beauty it radiates.

You open reminiscent of the greats, of classical love poetry, setting the tone for this so well, the first verse capped in the last line of the second verse gives such a vivid image. It establishes a wonderful sense of balance, i could go through this verse by verse, appreciating the skill and technique behind the poem, but it is more than the sum of its words <3

Did narcissus really die? or did he transcend and attain immortality, his beauty forever reflected back, retreating in the bereft depths of winter, emerging in the snow of spring, narcissus, so often hammered into us as a cautionary tale on vanity, pursued his goal unfettered by the judgement of others. And in doing so, achieved a greatness that would have been lost to him, had he conformed and hidden his love for the self. Narcissus, a hero of following the heart, and not letting others uproot your dreams, he instead learnt how to shield his dreams, and retreat from the cold touch of the winter. In a world where self value is seen as vapid, and in this poem, vanity did not die, but slowly became self worth, the reflected image narcissus was so scorned for valuing, a projection of your soul that is indeed worth is adoration.

alas lord byron, the breaker of hearts, drawn to love by wit and intelligence, betrayed from love by madness of his mind, but that was not a sad tale for his beloved, for she carried the light in her own right, two flames, converged, burnt brightly. Yet lord Byron was bound by his time, his love ran wild, his pen could not.

You do not stand on your own feet alone, you are standing on the shoulder of giants, you now peer beyond the fences that limited them. Your passion unbridled is always dazzling, your poetry has such a depth of inspiration, like a river, having chose the best and most natural course to convey its charge, you really are a poet <3

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~Uw-peckin'-wU~ Thanks for reading, complimenting, commenting, ... , analyzing it and making this comment!~

[Melts away with your great analysis of the opening stanza happy]

The great question that not even the original storyteller knows the answer to, what is known is the nature around grew beautiful thanks to Narcissus. Indeed, it does seem silly Narcissus is treated as a cautionary tale and not equally a story of transcendance or following one's passion with non-a-regret that one's legacy lives on forever. And I agree that self-value is seen that, but I call individualist societies (which there are none, just societies that benefits from atomizing people) hypocritical if they do sincerely believe that. But ahhhhhh!!!!~ <<<<3333

Caught yah on that Lord Byron part, really wanted to see if school's taught yah right by showing his poems. Glad yah know a great wealth of him and understod my referencing there~ And indeed, his love did ran wild when his pen couldn't.

<<<<3333!!!!~

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Also my internet is crap, so sorry I couldn't respond to DMs right now... c: