The personal belonging that I hold most dear is the one that I also hold most near and is the one I’m holding in my left hand right now as I tap out my answer to this prompt question with the index finger of my right hand.
It’s always on except when I’m sleeping. It’s always with me, in my hands or in my pants pocket.
It’s my iPhone.
It’s my window to the world
For this week’s Thursday Inspiration prompt, Jim Adams has asked us to write a post using the prompt word “river” and the photo above or “anything else that you think fits.”
Look at the image above and how calm the water in the river is. It’s so calm it almost looks like a mirror, reflecting the ancient granite cliffs on either side. It’s bucolic, beautiful, serene. But that was before the deluge. Before the earth was abused by the men who learned how to forge her beauty into power.
These are the words — the lyrics — from the song, “Before the Deluge” written and sung by Jackson Browne from his second album, Late for the Sky.
The song spoke of anger at those who had forged the earth’s “beauty into power,” and warned of the “magnitude of her fury in the final hour.” It could almost have been written today, although Browne sadly points out that our situation is now even more dangerous than it was when he wrote this prescient song fifty years ago!
“That song was inspired by a writer named Paul Ehrlich,” Browne said. “He laid forth a scenario in which the world’s dysfunctions compound and create an apocalyptic outcome, but even he couldn’t have predicted the calamitous situation we’re in now where we have a world leader who is flagrantly disregarding information from the scientific community.”
Brown is obviously talking about the once and possibly future president, Donald Trump…and his sycophant Republican enablers. But let’s not focus on politics.
Before most other songwriters were dealing with it, Browne’s “Before the Deluge” focuses on on the fragility of the environment and how easily ideals can be compromised.
The group of people at the heart of the song start with the best intentions: With the energy of the innocent / They were gathering the tools / They would need to make their journey back to nature. But these idealistic people encountered resistance and, instead of fighting to preserve and save nature, the took the easy way out.
Once their brave and crazy wings of youth grow torn and tattered, they settle: And in the end they traded their tired wings / For the resignation that living brings / And exchanged love’s bright and fragile glow for the glitter and the rouge. But their apathy turns out to be their greatest folly: And in a moment they were swept before the deluge.
Browne does hold out some hope for those who survive the deluge. Let the music keep our spirits high / Let the buildings keep our children dry / Let creation reveal its secrets by and by, by and by / When the light that’s lost within us reaches the sky.
Some of them were dreamers
And some of them were fools
Who were making plans and thinking of the future
With the energy of the innocent
They were gathering the tools
They would need to make their journey back to nature
While the sand slipped through the opening
And their hands reached for the golden ring
With their hearts they turned to each other's hearts for refuge
In the troubled years that came before the deluge
Some of them knew pleasure
And some of them knew pain
And for some of them it was only the moment that mattered
And on the brave and crazy wings of youth
They went flying around in the rain
And their feathers, once so fine, grew torn and tattered
And in the end they traded their tired wings
For the resignation that living brings
And exchanged love's bright and fragile glow
For the glitter and the rouge
And in a moment they were swept before the deluge
Let the music keep our spirits high
Let the buildings keep our children dry
Let creation reveal its secrets by and by, by and by
When the light that's lost within us reaches the sky
Some of them were angry
At the way the earth was abused
By the men who learned how to forge her beauty into power
And they struggled to protect her from them
Only to be confused
By the magnitude of her fury in the final hour
And when the sand was gone and the time arrived
In the naked dawn only a few survived
And in attempts to understand a thing so simple and so huge
Believed that they were meant to live after the deluge
Let the music keep our spirits high
Let the buildings keep our children dry
Let creation reveal it's secrets by and by, by and by
When the light that's lost within us reaches the sky
For his Writer’s Workshop this week, John Holton gives us six writing prompts and we are tasked with choosing one of the prompts (or as many as we want) and writing a post that addresses that (or those) prompt(s). I chose three prompts for this week: (1) use the word “abundant,” (2) write a post in exactly 9 sentences, and (5) what are your plans for the upcoming Memorial Day weekend?
The weather for the Memorial Day weekend couldn’t be more perfect.
There will be abundant sunshine with temperatures in the mid-sixties to low-seventies.
We’ve invited family and friends to come over on Saturday and again on Monday, with Sunday all to ourselves.
We will set up the inflatable bouncy house in our backyard and fill it will colorful balls for our grandkids and friends to play in.
I will fire up the backyard grill and barbecue burgers, hot dogs, and steaks.
We will add grilled veggies, corn on the cob, a healthy salad, and plenty of fresh fruit, plus some sweets for dessert.
I’ll provide the beer and wine for the adults and the fruit juice and sodas for the kids.
We will talk and laugh and play games and have fun with family and friends.
These are our plans for the Memorial Day weekend.
“That’s weird,” Ellen said.
“What’s weird?” her husband Will asked.
“That wall art,” Ellen responded.
“You mean that surrealistic black cat on the red background?”
“Yeah,” Ellen said. “Did you notice that there is a pheasant where the cat’s head is supposed to be.”
“Ellen, I think that cannabis-infused gummy we just took is already starting to kick in for you. That cat has a cat’s head sitting right on top of its pink and black striped neck, plain as day,” Will said.
“Will,” Ellen said, “look closely. The cat’s ear on the left is definitely shaped like a bird’s head. And where the cat’s other ear should be, it’s shaped more like the feathery tail of a pheasant.”
“Hmm, you may be onto something,” Will admitted. “It’s like a cat’s face was superimposed over the silhouette of a pheasant. And the cat’s other eye just looks like a hole with the red background showing through. But wait, is that a small cat’s head looking back at us through that hole where the cat’s other eye should be? This is fucking awesome.”
“I know,” Ellen said enthusiastically. “Do you see that little hummingbird next to the cat on its left?”
“Oh yeah, I see it now, too,” Will said. “How did you notice that? I’m still focused on the hole in the pheasant’s body with the tiny cat looking back out at me. I think I just saw it smile at me and purr.”
“And I thought I saw that hummingbird fly from the right of the cat across its body to the left side of the cat,” Ellen said.
“Did you see the cat’s big tail just move?” Will asked.
“No, but these gummies we had are really potent,” Ellen said, “and this cat, with a pheasant’s head and a hummingbird flying around it, is really drawing me in. I think this is the greatest piece of art I have ever seen. I want it for our apartment.”
“No worries, babe,” Will said as he took out his smartphone and started taking photos of the wall art. “I’ll take a few photos and we can blow up the photos we like best and hang them in our living room.”
“I don’t want photos,” Ellen said. “I want the original. Don’t you have a hammer and chisel at home? Go get it and come back and we’ll chisel it out of this wall.”
“These gummies are, indeed, potent,” Will said. “Let’s go back to our apartment before that pheasant-headed cat jumps off the wall mural and starts scratching your eyes out.”
“I love you, Will,” Ellen said. “Now take me home and ravage me. And make sure that stupid cat doesn’t follow us.”
Written for Sadje’s What Do You See. Photo credit: Jon Tyson @ Unsplash.
Welcome to Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (aka, FOWC). I will be posting each day’s word just after midnight Pacific Time (U.S.).
Today’s word is “flame.”
Write a post using that word. It can be prose, poetry, fiction, non-fiction. It can be any length. It can be just a picture or a drawing if you want. No holds barred, so to speak.
Once you are done, tag your post with #FOWC and create a pingback to this post if you are on WordPress. Please check to confirm that your pingback is there. If not, ÿplease manually add your link in the comments.
And be sure to read the posts of other bloggers who respond to this prompt. Show them some love.
This, That, and the Other 