The “Decompartmentalized” Life

I’m returning to my blogging to my roots. Some of you know that last year, I was struggling with addictions. My original WP blog was all about my battle. I’m returning to my original blog, but it has gotten a total rehaul. Please check out my first “official” post on Kirsten Uninterrupted. I will be blogging over there from now on. Please read the post for details. Thank you.

The White Beast (Prose)

We were flying, down the pothole pocked dirt road, faster than was safe. I was clinging to my “oh, crap handle” in a death grip to keep my head from cracking into the roof of the truck.

“Just hold on Clarissa!”

Like I was going to let go of that handle, he was plumb crazy if he thought that was going to happen. I hadn’t a clue why Jared was hell bent on driving like a crazy man. All I knew was that he’d gotten a phone call when we were on the outskirts of Maverick. I had already climbed into the truck which meant I was unable to hear the words being exchanged. The next thing I knew, Jared had jumped in the truck peeling out leaving a cloud of dust in our wake.

“What the heck, Jared?” I think my teeth were literally rattling around in my head by this point.

“We caught the son of a gun!”

I shook my head in confusion.

“That damn beast that has been terrorizing Jacob’s livestock. We caught him.”

“If it’s caught, then why are you speeding like a banshee?”

“Because Jacob has lost his damn mind!” Jared hit a spot in the road that launched us airborne only to slam us back down.

I glared at him waiting for an explanation. I mean, he had to have a reason for thinking Jacob had lost his mind, right? He remained silent as he desperately fought to control the jimmying steering wheel. When he finally conquered the wheel he shot me a glance.

“The idiot says we caught a Polar Bear.”

“A WHAT?”

Jared nodded, “Jacob says that the beast in the trap is a Polar Bear.”

“You’re right he has lost his mind.” We didn’t have Polar Bears in Maverick. The thought crossed my mind. that maybe Jacob had started drinking that moonshine that had made his family infamous in this county.

Jared yanked the truck’s steering wheel to the right hitting the 4 wheel drive button on the gear shift. We raced parallel to the fence line on the West end of Jacob’s property heading towards the forest. The truck skidded to a halt next to a red ATV.

As we jumped out of the truck we were assaulted by a deep rumbling that vibrated me to my core. Jared popped his shotgun free of the rack that was attached to the cab’s rear window. The growling morphed into an eerie cross between a howl and a moan. Jared’s long stride had him entering the forest before I was even half way across the clearing. I plunged into the forest hot on his heels jogging to keep up.

“JACOB!”

“Over here, Jared!” We angled to the East heading towards Jacob’s baritone voice. I was still several paces behind Jared when he came to abrupt halt.

The sudden silence screamed. All the wildlife in this section of the forest had stilled, not even breathing. Then a wheezing snuffle exploded in the stillness making my heart jump in my chest.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Jared whispered. I shoved my way in between the two broad shouldered men. My eyes widened at the sight before me.

A huge white beast lay on its side struggling for breath its paw trapped in the iron jaws of a bear trap. Blood spatters were sprinkled all over its coat attesting to the white beast’s battle to break free. For a brief moment my eyes tricked me into believing the lie that the beast was a Polar Bear. Then its ears pricked forward. I inhaled sharply. That was no Polar Bear.

The beast trapped in the iron jaw was a Wolf. Albeit, the biggest darn Wolf I’ve ever laid my eyes upon, but a Wolf nonetheless. Hearing my intake of breath the beast rolled its head angling its eyes in my direction. Eyes the shade of dark jade trapped me in their spell. I was startled at the inherent intelligence apparent in the beast’s eyes.

A movement in my peripheral vision broke the Wolf’s spell. Jared cocked his shotgun aiming at the Wolf’s head for a clean shot. Of its own accord my arm shot out knocking the gun away from the intended target. The crack of the shotgun was deafening.

“NO!” I screamed as I ran towards the white beast determined to save it.

Why? I hadn’t a clue…

© 2013 – 2014 the unpoet’s poems, all rights reserved.


This is an excerpt from a book that I’ve been writing (or not writing as of late) titled Solitary Omega.

Splashes (Ae Freislighhe)

Dusty_Memories_in_Sepia_by_Questavia

 

 

 

 

 

 

Splashes of sweet Summertime
Bring memories of our laughter
When you were a love of mine
That lasted even after

Dreams of you are diurnal
Smiles in sepia flashes
I chase them, nocturnal
You are memory splashes

© 2013 – 2014 the unpoet’s poems, all rights reserved. Photo credit: Dusty Memories in Sepia by Questavia at questavia.deviantart.com


Once again it’s Form Friday. Today, I tried an Irish syllable stanza form. This is the Ae Freislighhe it is hard to change it to versification in English so the main concentration is on rhyme scheme and syllables. Basically, it’s a quatrain stanza with 7 syllables per line. Lines 1 and 3 rhyme in triple rhymes. While lines 2 and 4 rhyme in double rhymes. The poem should end with the same first syllable, word or line with which it began.

Sandman’s Call (Symbi)

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the light whispers out
sleep begins its route
as shadows dance across walls
human minds set sail
nighttime tells its tales
as the sandman comes to call

© 2013 – 2014 the unpoet’s poems, all rights reserved. Photo credit: mymodernmet.com


Well, this is a new poetry form that I’ve tried out by combining two other poetry forms. It is a one stanza Alouette with syllable counts of 5,5,7,5,5,7 with a rhyming scheme of aabccb. The second poetry form used is either a haiku, senryu, or katauta (depending on the subject you are writing about). This form is written 5,7,5 and it occurs on the 1st line, 3rd line, and 5th line. It is a complete poem inside another poem. I used italics to draw the reader’s eye to it. Somebody out there might have already done something like this, but I haven’t seen it.  If you see this out there please let me know!  I’m calling it a Symbi because the 2 poetry forms have a symbiotic relationship with each other.

I had fun writing this one. Maybe someone else will try one. If you do please feel free to post in the comment section here or post a link to your poem in the comments.

Keepers of Secrets (Tanka)

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Keepers of secrets
Bark clothed regents of stories
Listening – tongues silent –
to confessions of strangers.
Nature’s trusted confidants

© 2014 the unpoet’s poems, all rights reserved. Photo credit: theflowersociety.org


Forests are true secret keepers. It seems safe to confess our deepest secrets to the bark clothed regents that we know won’t spread our words. Think about it…

Nightmare or Reality (Prose)

The bone chilling scream cut through the dense, muggy air. Her body jerked to an angular upright position. The hairs on her arms stood at ramrod attention. Her chest reverberated with the horrid noise.  The screams were coming from her.

Images slammed into her brain in whiplash fashion. A red door. A young girl crying. A man with a gun.  A cacophony of confusion bulldogged the images from her mind.  The scenes flashed in and out with lightening speed.

A swatch of light, expanding across the creme carpet, heralded the opening door’s intrusion into the dark room.

“You are okay,” said the muffled voice

Was the voice asking her a question or reassuring her?  She squinted her eyes desperately trying to focus on the shadow cloaked mirage approaching her.

“Another dream, honey?” Asked the matronly voice.

Her head nodded of its own accord. It must have been a dream. What else could it have been?

“Here let’s take one of your pills.”

Her hand shook as she reached out obediently. “I had oatmeal and orange juice for breakfast.” Her voice sounded far away to her own ears.

“That’s nice.” The voice replied. “Wait a second what did you say?”

“I had oatmeal and orange juice for breakfast.” She dutifully repeated.

She was trapped in a nightmare. That was the only plausible explanation for her absurd response. She’d just been screaming her bloody head off. And now she was talking about her breakfast.

She was scared stiff.  Yet, the strange woman was acting like a kid in a candy shop over her breakfast declaration.  The dichotomy of the moment added fuel to her overweighted fear.

She frantically dashed her eyes around the sterile room.  Nothing.  She recognized nothing.  The screams coiled over one another in her gut.

Where was she?  And more to the point…who was she?

© 2013 the unpoet’s poems, all rights reserved.


I tend to write in the passive voice when I write prose. This was an exercise to try to be in the moment of action instead of passive. This writing comes from an idea for a story that I started awhile back on another blog. I’m still mulling around all the details. I guess we will see where the story decides to go!