Dead Poet – a Six-Sentence Story

another six-sentence story, a dead poet

Another week and another six-sentence story, a dead poet… Hmm… I wonder if this one will be about the poets or the readers. Perhaps a little bit of both… but I guess we will find out soon.

Listening as I write this one: Vitali – Chaconne (live) played by Emilie Autumn

This piece is also my baby, I really like this one. Some people can perhaps already tell that this was kind of inspired by the lovely artist I listened to here. My god the 16-year-old me loved her to bits.

Rules of the hop:
Write 6 Sentences. No more. No less.
Use the current week’s prompt word.

PROMPT WORD:  BOOKMARK

Others’ Stories can be read here. A few days later I noticed I forgot to add a link… Am sorry, it is here now.

All of my Sixes can be found here.

the Wonderful Blog I found the challenge from: our amazing GirlieOnTheEdge.

Dead Poet – a Six-Sentence Story

The smell of cinnamon in the room, a burnt candle on the bedside table, an empty bottle of Shiraz on the floor beside the ivory bed, and finally… a lady clutching onto a tattered book while tangled in her silken sheets with a tear running down her cheek.

It was almost as if she had fallen in love with the dead poet himself and every breeze through the drapes felt as if he was mocking her in her misery, for that is how comforting she had pictured his touch to be.

Oh, such was the life she led, scribbling sweet nothings into a notebook with her muse unknown to her readers and preaching her undying love and longing for a man who had lived in another century.

It was as if irony had a role in her life, for she never wed or bore any children, other than the books she spawned out one after another in her lifetime and it just happened so, that a young boy had found one on his grandmothers’ shelf and snatched it for himself.

What made him do so, he still can not tell, for he didn’t read it long after his bubbie had passed and a bookmark had caught his attention as he was packing his belongings for a move and the words of our lady struck his heart as he read them out loud with the breeze passing through his windows making the hair on his body stand.

And perhaps… this is how the poets are made.

Thank you for reading my six-sentence story dead poet. Take care!

Shameless Self-Promo

My whole collection, as a book, yes. Can be found here.

And my first ever Poetry book no. I Will be added here by 18.11.2022: Act I and Act II

Until then you can find it on Spotify here.

And you may subscribe to my YouTube channel as I am slowly adding lyric videos there.

 

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Doug Jacquier
6 months ago

The smell of cinnamon in the room, a burnt candle on the bedside table, an empty bottle of Shiraz on the floor beside the ivory bed, and finally… a lady clutching onto a tattered book while tangled in her silken sheets with a tear running down her cheek.’ Great opening.

messymimi
messymimi
6 months ago

Indeed, perhaps it is how poets are made.

GirlieOnTheEdge
6 months ago

Bra-va! *audience clapping subsides*
Such a sensory laden opening sentence that flows into an emotional, poignant story of an impossible, never to be requited love.
Beautiful Six and awesome audio reading of it.

c. e. ayr
6 months ago

Interesting view of poets and their nascence, and nicely read too.

clark
6 months ago

Not sure to focus my compliment on the visual aspect or the final-sink-of-the-hook ending.
what the heck, both were the best part of this Six.

Keith's Ramblings
6 months ago

The opening sentence is captivating and sets the scene for a truly touching tale.

Frank Hubeny
6 months ago

What she wrote influenced the younger generations. I suppose that could be for good or bad. In this case it may have been good.

Reena
Reena
6 months ago

It is that one insight which makes a poet, not necessarily a moment.

Susan
6 months ago

I believe you’re on to something. So much of poetry is inspired by tragic and lonely reflection. This Six made me think.

Spira
6 months ago

I remember telling you, not long ago, of the Victorian aura you create – among other creations…
Emilie Autumn…The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls…Chaccone…see where I am gettin’ at?
Your Six…let me echo what Doug, Mimi, Clark & Denise voiced.
Laced or Unlaced.

Jenne49
6 months ago

A beautiful, poetic story. The opening sentence has such rich imagery. And she may not have had children, but she certainly gave birth to creativity in at least one other, it would seem…
Lovely reading too.

PineCanvas
6 months ago

Truly captivating wording, took me right to century old sweet dusty room.

Great reading – made me wish for a longer story then only 6 sentences

Liz H-H
5 months ago

Beautiful, sensual write, and I’m sure that’s it, how poets are made!

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