Thursday, 30 January 2014

Contentment



I had a drum once, I was like that - I kept mementoes of who I was.   I kept it in a bag of brittle bones and rubber bands.  It had its own rhythm, its own beat and I would dance to it, jerk about like some mindless marionette.

Long time ago I exchanged it for a stone which I tossed into the sea; tides ebbed and flowed and cast it to the shore, a mere pebble on some sequestered beach.  I am smooth round and polished, yet but for a rare day - a day when sun breaks through the clouds, I am cold as ice.  I am content with that.

Anna :o]

Written for Form for all at dVerse where Sam has us write prose poetry.  Thanks Sam.

Image: Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Author: Remi Mathis

30 comments:

Claudia said...

being content with who we are...even with those parts we don't like so much...think that's a big key..i like the images you use...the bag of bones and rubber bands and the becoming smooth by the work of the waves...

Mary said...

Interesting to trade memories of who you are for a stone and then toss it into the sea. They could have a worse fate than to turn into a round and polished stone

tsdoadp said...

How I wish it was...that simple. :) a beautiful piece of prose.

Brian Miller said...

interesting contrast in being the drum....and trading that for a stone....there seems to be much more life in a drum, but then again it depends on whose beat you dance to....content with being cold....makes me wonder a bit...all in how you translate that cold metaphor....smiles.

Gabriella said...

I guess we all keep conscious or unconscious mementoes of who we are!

grapeling said...

This begs to be spoken aloud, so I acquiesced. Good pen, Anna ~

Victoria` said...

You've caught a lot in this brief story--a story of a life, of self-acceptance. I liked the carefree dance.You don't need a drum when you have your own beat within you.

Beachanny said...

There is a song in this prose, a tale of a personal rhythm that can expand and contract, that is both forte and pianissimo. It tells of stars and sea and the you in between.

Björn said...

First of all your prose begs to be read aloud.. Really really cool. And the contrast in the drum and the smooth rock is an interesting metamorphosis

Susan said...

Yes, the move from the bag into the vast world required a different instrument. This is gorgeous, Anna. I haven't been round to see you for a while and was surprised that this is so short! But it tells all about the journey and return, transformed. And the contentment, hmm. Let it be so.

kkkkaty said...

Hmm....interesting to trade the drum for a stone, but it makes a kind of sense when you think of the larger picture...we adapt, we change, we make peace with the way things are. Really lovely.

Marina Sofia said...

Very cryptic, very enigmatic, but so sweetly satisfying. Great images.

kaykuala said...

Drumming around with a lot of movements and melody but to be traded for a stone. There were certain attractions in rounded ones. Rightly so! Good one Anna!

Hank

blueoran said...

The sentiment here reminds me of when I gave up playing rock n roll to write poems, big night music exchanged for little morning psalms (uh, they used to be little). Only in our age would this read as something other than a poem, only incidentally in paragraph form. I'm looking forward to the day I get to be a smooth stone. (So is my wife.)

kelvin s.m. said...

Contentment---there are just words like this that is too hard to find. Smiles.

Lydia said...

I love your prose poem, and can absolutely see and feel that beach, your rock, your contentment. Beautiful.

rallentanda said...

Feeling comfortable with who you are takes a while ...cold smooth stones become intensely hot when the sun beats down on them :)

anthonynorth said...

Content, even when not perfect, is good. 'Cos no one is perfect. Great write.

Kate Mia said...

Ahh..it's so good to flow ..whether it's hot or cold..there was a day when a lost ring in the sea..was the end of a world..
and removing the bricks around my flower bed..were a loss i could not remove..
However..i no longer covet anything but the NOW..and now I too..
flow free...if only i could of learned that before 53..but NOW IS NOW..
no worries..allisallisnoW:)

hanna said...

contentment is good. A form of happiness that may not please all, but is satisfying for many. Pragmatism? I'm not usre. But the smooth round pebble somehow sums it up as well as your words do.

Brother Ollie said...

such a tough form - I'm driven to be succinct - you nailed it!

John (@bookdreamer) said...

And so the sea takes

Optimistic Existentialist said...

Self-contentment is a beautiful thing. Wonderful piece :)

Gail said...

Wonderful. Wish I had written that.

^.^ said...

Lovely poem ... coming to terms is a beautiful thing.

Jenny Woolf said...

A nice progression... I don't know what I would compare myself with.

rosaria williams said...

Funny, I wrote about a similar theme today.

Helena said...

I quite like the thought of exchange leading to contentment, for some that could be risky. Nicely penned!

Vandana Sharma said...

sometimes it is better to vent out our anger.....

Semaphore said...

This is prose poetry at its most classic, presenting the reader with disparate images and leaving them with to stumble upon, thrill on, the discovery of what it means.