Reticence – Magpie Tales

magritte, rene, not to be reproduced 1937

Not To Be Reproduced, 1937, Rene Magritte

Christophe folded his clothes, laying them out on his bed before placing them in his suitcase, precisely and methodically. So it had ever been.

He did not need to turn from his to task for the exact layout of the room to be available to his memory. Burnished mahogany armoire to his left, ornate chest of drawers in the recess next to the fireplace and elegant sash windows to his right. The deep sash windows, each lower pane lifted precisely six inches to allow a healthy breeze to refresh the stale air, were dressed in elegant plum brocade curtains.

Nothing had changed since he had left all those years ago.

“Monsieur?” His manservant stood in the doorway, hands open in enquiry.

“Oui, Gaston. I am ready.” Christophe snapped shut his case, locked it and pocketed the key.

“Will we be returning… after, monsieur?”

“Non, Gaston. I am here to do my filial duty, that is all. We will leave as soon as the service is complete and the mourners have left. They expect nothing more, nothing less.” Christophe stared at Gaston, daring him to comment.

Gaston said nothing.

The father and son had not spoken in twenty five years, and now Monsieur Clement the elder was dead.

If they had anything to say to each other, it was too late now.

——

Here’s my latest entry to Magpie Tales. I have been fascinated with Magritte’s art since discovering him as a teenager – my step-Dad has a book of his art on the bookshelves at home. ‘Ceci n’est pas une pipe’ was my favourite, partly because of the play on words. This story is certainly not reflective of my relationship with my step-Dad, thank goodness! I thought there was something mournful about this painting, hence the tone of my piece.

I hope you enjoyed this, do let me know what you think.

magpie tales statue stamp 185

Veritas – dVerse

If I had the belief
had the guts to be street-wise,
could save my own spirit
from those pernicious, damned white lies,
I’d grasp it with both hands
and take the world on my plate
adopt the mentality,
eliminate the disparity
that pervades every alleyway, back street and door,
I’ve said it too many times
from down here, from the floor
that the shadow that dogs us,
pulls us down to the ground
is the vague sense of emptiness,
the lack of completeness,
the dullness, great sadness,
the all-pervading madness,
no – there ain’t no Messiah
at the bottom of that glass,
or in that last chocolate chip cookie
I’m adding to my ass,
no, where we’re all going
– those silent, straight rows –
won’t give us the second chance,
we can’t repeat the romance,
do it all over again,
have just one more, sweet last dance,
excuse our poor ability,
blame our short life’s fragility,
nobody will do it for us, it’s a tragedy
of giant proportions
we can’t believe the distortions
the hard work is necessity
and we must do it ourselves –
be our own self-believers
and lovers, and fighters
for at the end of my journey
when the white light is calling
the one, the last judge on my mind
will be me.

 

Veritas

———-

This week, on dVerse Poetics, Anthony has asked us to write a poem using at least 5 of the words below:

 – Messiah, Allegory, Luminous, Plate, Shadow, Door, Persona, Glass, Vitiligo, Epochal, Pernicious, Warmth –

What a collection! I didn’t really have a particular idea in mind before I started, but then, as is often the case, my poet brain took over. It’s a bit of a rant – about trusting yourself, about not buying into consumerism, about feeling free to be your true self… Lots of issues, mixed up in one, big old chunk of words. I think I’m still considering Claudia’s question yesterday about how real we get in our writing. And I just know that each poem offered up by the dVerse community will be vastly different. A great prompt, Anthony!

Please pop over to dVerse to see how others have taken the bait – and enjoy!

 

 

Say Cheese! – VisDare 62

Alec spotted them frozen in time, the swingboat held in place as if by an invisible hand. Clearly, they hadn’t expected to be seen, what with the photo booth being so far away at the other end of the fairground. What were the chances of him pressing the shutter release just at that moment?

He screwed up the photo and threw it on the floor, wishing he could unsee the whole, sordid affair. What to do? Jonny had stolen a kiss from his girl, and probably more besides. He hated to admit it, but Gloria was a very popular girl.

Alec sat on his haunches, hiding in the shadows as the sun rose over the motionless rides. It would only take one turn of a bolt – just enough to make it fall loose when Jonny did his early morning test ride – to solve this particular problem.

Gloria, he would deal with separately.

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Photo Source

I’m back for another entry into Angela’s VisDare prompt, where the challenge is to respond, in 150 words or less, to the photo she puts up on her blog each week.What a cheeky and daredevil moment – health and safety would have a thing or two to say about that, I’m sure!

I hope you enjoy it, please do take part.