These paper boats of mine are meant to dance on the ripples of hours, and not reach any destination... Rabindranath Tagore

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past...F. Scott Fitzgerald - The Great Gatsby

We were the people who were not in the papers. We lived in the blank white spaces at the edges of print. It gave us more freedom. We lived in the gaps between the stories.
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On the way to the river are the old dormitories, used for something else now, with their fairy-tale turrets, painted white and gold and blue. When we think of the past it's the beautiful things we pick out. We want to believe it was all like that.
--from Margaret Atwood - The Handmaid's Tale

Reading is the sole means by which we slip, involuntarily, often helplessly, into another's skin, another's voice, another's soul.
- Joyce Carol Oates
Showing posts with label The Think Tank Thursday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Think Tank Thursday. Show all posts

Friday, June 22, 2012

Poetic Impressions of The Wind Singer



Aramanth
Land of the Manth people
A giant scarecrow structure 
A special gift
From unknown special people
The wonder of the wind singer

 But there emerged scarlet gowned examiners
Who sought to grind the human spirit into
Coloured labels
Maroon for those of valuable obedience
Orange for those with midstream potential and
Grey for those who verged on 
Disposable

 Tests 
Ongoing tests
Ensured
The right people were
In the right places

 And the key to the windsinger's song was
Invisible
Missing

 But there are always those 
Who wish and will
A different world

 Bowman and Kestrel
The twins
And the 
Muddle-headed 
Mumpo

 They were children
Just children
Cast
Down and
Up into
A labyrinth of journeys

 Outer landscapes
Together
Inner landscapes
Alone

 Braving the muds of the Underlake
The crumbling parapet above the gorge
Riding wolves and
Soaring in eagles' claws

 Seeking the identity of
Their lost souls

 The Emperor held 
The map
Aging Queen Num wore
The silver clasp 
The key to
The windsinger's song

 And in the shifting shades
Always smile
The old children
Lurking 
Longing
To touch
Their crippling touch
Hoping for some fire to burn them back
To what they should be
~~~~~~

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The Wind Singer (2000)
William Nicholson is a British screenwriter, playwright and novelist.


GOODREADS REVIEW

The Wind Singer (Wind on Fire, #1)The Wind Singer by William Nicholson
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Aramanth
Sounds like some legendary jewel
But the gem
The walled city
Has lost the sparkle of the wind singer
The strangers' tall tower of
Wooden beams and metal pipes
Has lost the voice of
The soul
Extract from my poetic review - an alternative review on my Gemma's Greyscale Territory blog

An extraordinary fantasy that hints of breaths from old legends and becomes a chameleon of reality and dream! And if you feel the spirit deep down, you will feel the smudges of our society lurking.

View all my reviews

Good Reads discussion: For some strange reason, "The Wind Singer" seems to reflect elements of "The Handmaid's Tale" by Margaret Atwood. Both represent a world of crushing, stifling perfection and the journey of those who seek a way out. But this time, the travellers are children.

 Linking to:
Poets United The Think Tank Thursday ~ Labyrinth
dVerse Poets Pub ~ Open Link Night
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