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“Freedom is...the right to write the wrong words.” ― Patti Smith, “I would especially like to recourt the Muse of poetry who ran off with the mailman four years ago and drops me only a scribbled postcard from time to time.” - John Updike, “Write while the heat is in you. The writer who postpones the recording of his thoughts uses an iron which has cooled to burn a hole with.” — Henry David Thoreau, don't fear the sweeper, Fly with your prose - jump blindfolded, Prose, seek and ye shall bind, The wary wordsmith, Write, Writers, Writing, Yoga Font, Your muse awaits . . .
Pigeonholed.
Pigeonholed,
He can hardly move.
One of his greatest fears materialised . . .
The transpired terror.
A foot afoot pushes against a cheek,
Eyelid slid to bunion,
Left shoulder crushed like a crashed Cortina
Into a tight corner,
Spine fused into another,
Right knee in the most improbable of positions.
I have no intention of divulging where a big toe ends up.
On occasion he said (though would admit to no other),
‘I fear being pigeonholed.
It scratches at me from reverberant recesses,
towering turrets in my head.’
As he tapped his tapering tonsure
With a leaden pencilling-in of concerns,
An ancient panic etched into his forehead sketchily,
Like a child’s stick horse.
No, look closer, not a horse, but . . . (hold those nags)
The terrifying spectre of a pony with just one trick,
One who may, or may not, be a mirage, an Arkle debacle.
When fretting, conviction takes shape,
Whispering into his ear that he’ll be spotted and slotted,
Begrudged then judged and nudged,
Identified from a mile off thanks to his trademark Royal Wordiness,
His Acrobatic Acres of Verbose Arias,
The Filigree Flourishes,
Sashays of Stylish Similes —
All such cavilling filed neatly into an ill-starred manilla envelope,
Emblazoned upon which sits the proclamation:
‘Trite, hackneyed tripe — dulls with familiarity —
Sell-by date expired, prolix lapsed.’
So there he is, parcelled-up in obloquy is he,
Labelled, stamped-upon and boxed.
He can’t squeeze his hobbled and harangued head
Out far enough to read the capital lettering
(Which he doubts, in any case, to be flattering)
Stencilled stiffly upon the foreboding lid,
And knows not if he wishes to.
Yet it says something I think he’d like, after all.
Come a little closer and you can decipher the text.
The charismatic curling copperplate heralds:
‘Like no other.’ And he is, most assuredly, that.
But let’s keep it strictly entre-nous, okay?
As it’s fear that has our pensive penman strive,
(Though black dogs hound him from cranial shadows.)
For fear feeds perfection, the purist of quibbler, on juicy tidbits of success,
Whilst flailing a harsh birch twig of censure relentlessly,
Sharpening both quill and will
In that ever-decreasing whirlpool vortex of text,
Dragging him towards a finale — one the Law of Diminishing Returns decrees.
Whereupon audiences tire of trickery anon and oust this Wizard of Oz,
Pinning a pointed poster to his pensive back —
A placard branding him as the most abhorrent of possible personages:
Predictable. Boring. Tiring. Old hat.
And most heinous of all . . . Dull.
So we’ll keep him just there, shall we?
Teetering on the brink of brilliant madness
For however long an eternity takes,
Leaving us lazing in a beautifully balletic
Syntax set to saturate sacred souls
Softly within
Utterly
Perfect
Prose.
[So seal and zip censorious lips . . . with ellipses . . .]
john zande said:
You make words dance, my friend, and that makes my brain go Yay.
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Oh John, I have the hugest smile, all ear to ear to over there going on thanks to your comment. Thank you! x
-Esme Cloud choreographer of words since 1604
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Val Boyko said:
Mums the word …. or not. Loved this Esme 💛
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Thank you Val, I have heard that the bird is the word too beams ❤
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jim- said:
You really have a way with words. Without even knowing what the hell your taking about, it was purely delightful to read.
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Hahahahaha, thank you Jim. Imagine what it would be like if people knew what I was on about as well! falls about. It’s a writer forcing himself into contortions as he frets about originality when he’s actually quite brilliant and unique. Thus is the human condition eh?
“it was purely delightful to read.” – I’m honoured you think so sir – beams and bows
Esme waving happily at Jim upon the Cloud
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brightonsauce said:
Yes, I like this very much.
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Admiral Akbar kept shouting “It’s a trap!” but I ignored his fishy Ness (Loch? aye) and went anyway and he was right.
Bollocks.
Bear with Bill, I’m struggling with web connection and it may be for some time but I’ll be back for you (for Bill not you Matt)
Esme Cloud tutting at herself relatively pissed off
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Bill Ziegler said:
I trundled over to IsItADuckQuestionMark dot com. A little-known but most-assuredly apocryphal option on that duckryphal website offers an UploadAndCompare button that finds everything the button-chooser has ever written and couples each chunklet of successfully uploaded mashmish against wildly improbable SQL queries of questionable authorage. The site promises to return results within 42.24 nanoseconds. I crossed my fingers, hoped it would not call me a duck, closed my lids, and waited that interminable 42.24 nanos. In short, this report:
“You are a moose writing under the pseudoappelage Mandrake Mumbletunes. Thank you for visiting IsItADuckQuestionMark dot com. We hope you get the help you need.”
🙂 ❤ 🙂
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
“You are a moose writing under the pseudoappelage Mandrake Mumbletunes.” – By the Gods and medium-sized frogs at least you weren’t a goose I suppose, hahahaha. I can’t get any such site to appear on the Cloudy computer, it’s stubbornly refusing to come up with the goods, which is annoying, but I am soothed by all your wonderous words Bill. Thank you for them.
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Bill Ziegler said:
Herewith an epiphany: Mumbletunes’ fear and loathing of hunters finds explication. “If it quacks like a duck, shoot it.” Fits the B(b)ill does it not?
Wowsers, I just took a GANDER and dropped my eye on this: manDRAKE.
🙂
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
This is horribly true. Humans are for the most part vile folks, but a great deal of that is conditioning, which is why slow but sure some are shrugging off their fat meat-heads and seeing beyond, finally. Those who hunt for fun are a level below the vile. There’s no such thing as throwing one back either, a hook through the mouth with a portion of drowning in the air (in effect) isn’t considerate, it is monstrous.
I have a ‘Cloud Speaks on the Subject of’ there which will be uncomfortable reading for some I suppose, still, that is as it should be, otherwise there’s no point in trying to reach them at all.
Thank you Bill/Mr Munbletune x
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Professor Taboo said:
You, my Lady, are the Queen of Wordery! 😍
I can’t HELP but think that this male, this “placard of the most abhorrent of possible personages, Predictable. Boring. Tiring. Old hat, [yawning that dislocates the most firm of jaws and brainery!] “And most heinous of all . . . Dull.” you poetically identify…
currently sits in our White House!!! Surely this is the Twitt-Meister renown amongst even the most eccentric monkeys, yes!? 😉
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
No! He’s too dim, a true dullard, a psycho dullard at that, he would not be capable of writing so well at all.
‘You, my Lady, are the Queen of Wordery!’ – This, however, is gratefully received and has earned you a sticky bun during your confinement.
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Professor Taboo said:
Not capable of writing so well at all!!!??? 😮 WHAT!!!? You must be basing that bulls-eye on how superbly well he speaks in public with his vast gargantuan vocabulary!!! 😆
(ravishingly gobbles down his sticky bun making a mess of his box upon her Cloudiness)
We could make this a regular habit Madame, couldn’t we!? They’d write romantic poetry about us and sing love songs rivaling Barry White, George Michael, and Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie! You feel me? 😈 ❤
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
‘You feel me?‘ – I do not feel you Professor, I hold you at bay with a broom, can of hairspray and a lighter, and well you know it.
You can clean up the box an’ all!
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Professor Taboo said:
Hahahahaha!!! Ah, SEE! See why I can’t resist this Witchy Woman — breaks out in lusty song…
SEE what you do to me? How can you resist what is happening between us!? Don’t you feel the lure of my gravity, the pitter-patter in your chest telling you ‘Give in. Just give in to your destiny and his lips!’ 😍
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Professor Taboo said:
Grrrrr, damn HTML messiness! There was supposed to be a closed italic after my beautiful song! Why does Wooing have to be SO difficult!? (pouts)
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
You’re doing it wrong.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA,
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Professor Taboo said:
Do you think your cracks of the whip will deter our destiny, written in the stars and heat of death and creation, passion and exhaustion, moans and vernaculars boundless, timeless, and undefined ‘cept in primal wavelengths?
(in his best impersonation of irresistible Pepe Le Pew charm, she soon will surrender!)
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Hahahahahaha.
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Bill Ziegler said:
Trump is Truth, Delusion is Decency, Lying is Living
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Well said Bill.
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Clare Flourish said:
Writing might be or become dull but kindness never can.
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
So true.
Thank you, Clare ❤
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brightonsauce said:
Agreed.
Please try and be kind, Esme.
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
That’s what I thought you were doing.
You weren’t.
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brightonsauce said:
Oh, okay..I’m sorry then. I haven’t tried to be unkind
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Ok. Accepted.
-Esme Cloud
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smilecalm said:
such a play
on the words
in me
and not
in me!
may your day
be a cool play 🙂
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Wordplay in motion
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Ben Naga said:
Reblogged this on Ben Naga and commented:
And now for something completely different …
(Well slap me with a fish!)
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
A reblog no less!
Esme bowing and collecting flowers and cabbages as they’re thrown her way ‘pon the Cloud
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Bela Johnson said:
Okay, so I was getting REALLY uncomfortable physically while reading this in the beginning. Glad you explained it was metaphor! Because I have seen some films … which this brought back into memory. Well done, Secret Agent! 😘
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Oooh that’s interesting, and useful to know as well as it means the aim was achieved – not to make the reader feel uncomfortable I should add, but to convey just how uncomfortable a state the fear of being a poor show on the writing front once one has started down that path with some success, so I apologise for your discomfort Bela, but thank you mightily for telling me how it made you feel. ❤
The films; I have Boxing Helena and every buried alive horror from the seventies going on, what films were brought to your mind?
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Bela Johnson said:
Boxing Helena and London Spy leapt to mind. Shiver. Don’t apologize for making any reader uncomfortable, especially me. We always have the choice to take our eyes elsewhere. ❤️❤️❤️
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
❤
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Bela Johnson said:
Omg, funnee. Eleanor Rigby, I thought I’d lost you! 😘
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
❤
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joannereedauthor said:
Delicious vocabulary!
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Why thank you Joanne!
Esme looking chuffed to bits upon the Cloud
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