Skip to main content

The River that Runs Into Every Sea

 Sharing as part of The Sunday Muse #167 and in honor of old friends.



We came to the riverside in high school
Everything was laced in myth.

We listened to our steps
We found some remnant acorn
We went home and thought about:

The last time we'd find the boat

The last time we'd laugh over pizza

The last time we'd roll our eyes over Roger

The last time we'd have a sleepover

Or maybe we'd think about tomorrow
Let the myths flow out, taking their lace
On a tidal lurch strong enough to drag
That old boat into heaven on the river
That runs into every sea and port and planet;
Night, herself, as all the waters there are dark.

We came to the riverside in high school
And walked until we found the boat
And drifted on from there.  

This is the month for Camp NaNo. If you're not familiar, Camp NaNo is a choose-your-own-writing-project-goal month associated with the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) organization, which just means that--for me--this month is something of a thinking-about-high-school month because my project is a restructuring of an old novel. Or, just a structuring. Not a draft, just a month to get organized, refresh the characters, what have you. I'm hoping it will lead to a draft in the very near future but right now it's just making me think about high school Entirely Too Much. Much apologies for what that may mean for this month's prompts (sorry, guys!). 

Hope everyone is having a good week! Happy 4th to those of you in the US! 

-- Chrissa

Comments

  1. Fascinating Chrissa. Good luck on the draft!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Moments in time captured that lead to the sea of life we come to know. This is gorgeous Chrissa! I love where the boat took you! Glad you are doing Camp NaNo! You may not know if, but you inspire me my friend!

    ReplyDelete
  3. You have captured time in your beautiful poem, Chrissa :)

    ReplyDelete
  4. Chrissa this was a real joy to read - unique and full of surprise
    "Everything was laced in myth.

    We listened to our steps
    We found some remnant acorn"

    ReplyDelete
  5. And after the bonfire on the beach, swimming, and that big mean fish. ;-)

    ReplyDelete
  6. Wow, this is fantastic Chrissa, a story laced in such amazing imagery
    Happy Sunday
    Thanks for dropping by my blog today

    Much💜love

    ReplyDelete
  7. You took the challenge, turned it on its head, rolled it all over the place, cooked it, ate it ... I loved it.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Beautifully crafted and takes us with you as the river of life pulls you along.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Those last times can get sentimental.
    Nicely told, Chrissa. Sounds like you are about to join our crowd.
    ..

    ReplyDelete
  10. I admire your response to the prompt, the flow from memories to metaphor ~

    ReplyDelete
  11. The last three lines are so full of nostalgia for the past, while the future hovers, uncertain... very evocative of change from child to adult which everybody has to cope with in their own way.

    ReplyDelete
  12. Chrissa, there is something reassuring the quest you describe when you are with friends. There is a feeling sorrow that things will not continue as they have been.

    Favorite lines:
    "the river
    That runs into every sea and port and planet;
    Night, herself..."

    ReplyDelete
  13. Changing from a high school perspective to what comes after. Well done, Chrissa!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

To Blue Fields Far Below

 Sharing with The Sunday Muse #228 , The Fashionable Twenties.  A sycamore fairy sits crosslegged in the road Dragons swim toward smooth hills above the storms Vines embrace the telephone poles  Someone washed the blue skies and she knows  It's time to dare the salty foam It's time to wade through the eternal fields' folds And gather golden apples for home.  Hoping this finds you with space to daydream and a good book in which to wander. Working on turning last week's prompt into a longer piece, as I found myself intrigued by the idea of tea in the garden as combat. Social situations are not my forte. As it's still Spider September, there will be a chihuahua-sized jumping spider that is none too happy about anything but hunting squirrels (that's for you, Mom).  -- Chrissa

Once Upon a Future Past

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #204 . It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening ran behind me dragons, demons, and the sleeping world; afraid to turn, to wake me. Power needs its horror stories, its ghosts. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening followed close; a fantasy of goodness, where the gold is always covering bones. Power needs its fairy tales, its witches. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening treads my hem, like an army from the dragon's teeth and all the lies therein. -- Chrissa

Flagrant

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #217. Come be part of the conflagration. :)  Oh, they called the mob to celebrate But only the fire heard They called the mass to congregate But only the dry grass bowed A conflagration Called to prayer Hungry for light Hungry for air Oh, they called the mob celebrate Wearing flames in their hair They called the mass to congregate Faceless in the burning air.  Greetings and salutations. I'm not sure what to say--we're not celebrating the 4th this year (not that I'm prepared to cede one holiday to the authoritarian idiots in charge of our state, but our grass is still dry from the heat and we have a dog terrified of fireworks...so we're celebrating by bunkering down and watching Howling 2  at the gleefully deranged suggestion of my sibling) and otherwise I've turned our dead corn plants into the basis for this year's Camp NaNo project...it's turning into a weird year, the kind of year where I'm reading more horror than norma...