October Page a Day, Day 11

As Alanna walked through the open doors the room fell to a hush, and she felt every eye upon her. There were a dozen clanfolk, mostly older men but a couple of women also, seated at a large table that dominated the center of the room. At the far side of the room was another table, smaller, and there sat Rafel and Alen with another woman at his side, and another older man who stood slowly when she came in. Alanna found herself unable to move, staring at the man who she assumed must be her father. His hair was the same russet hue as her own, plaited at the temples but otherwise left unruly. His eyes were the same startling blue as her own as well.

“Tirena!” The clanlord’s cry was overjoyed, and he nearly stumbled in an effort to step around the table to move toward her. Dureil gently pressed a hand agains the young woman’s back, as though to urge her to go to him. She found herself unable to move at first, her gaze wandering a bit to the other clansfolk. When she caught Rafel’s gaze though she smiled, and with a steadying breath she moved forward.
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“Bittersweet”

Her thoughts wander to life’s little quandaries
as claret fire warm her lips and loosens her thoughts.
No amount of wishes can make right the wrong turns
or undo the choices made which brought her here.

Wondering gets one nowhere
except trapped in useless dreams.

Each night the same, fine dinner, fine wine
passing conversation back and forth like cards.
Little thought given to any of it
only idle contact without affection.

Closeness breeds weakness
an imperfection in sensibility.

To the minds of some, two are halves of one
but not closed in these ruddy walls.
Here one lingers, isolated and remote
barely casting shadows to affirm existence.


A second poem flew of my fingers today, so I had to post two for the same prompt. Giving due honor to e.e. cummings for the snippet “two are halves of one”.

“In a Red Room”

In a red room
there is time for dreaming
time for hopes to coalesce
to form into possibilities.

In a red room
there is warmth and life
fed by company
passion spawns in a glass of wine.

In a red room
words become murmurs
flocks of them moving effortlessly
from one conversant to another.

In a red room
flaws are softened
the hidden self
illuminated in the glow.


Inspired by this week’s prompt over at Magpie Tales. Lots of wonderful writers have added their vision of this prompt; go and read more!
Also shared with d’Verse’s Open Link Night 56 – 8-8-2012