Excerpt
Berganashio - Chapter 2
"Here's where you'll stay..." Jovie motioned to a very cozy room with a fireplace with a nice fire that was flickering. The room had three beds and all the necessary things that a family could possibly need. "What do you think?" Jovie asked.
By Rowan Finley 2 years ago in Fiction
Misplaced Word
In thinking of the right words to say , I know, I may not sound like what you may want me to say. Whether at home or living abroad,(“comfortably,”with words,)one may wonder about the moronic silences that can creep in between the said-unsaid. And also, as in the trotting troopship, some words can lecture into passages, exchanging new forms, imagery or even a new meaning, shot up as a necessity of being on the “same-page,”day or age. You may say —Oration is not for the faint hearted, and rationing it,calls for an absolute discretion. Thus, engaging in this “tag game,” of verbal exchanges, one can experience the effect of adventure, total amazement or even staggered bewilderments. So here the course can take on any “object,” (of perception,) and plant it over any other imaginative state💭of objective- subjective existence. And herein arrives the “misplaced word,” acting up to the displaced “subjective-objective field,” of metaphoric arrays, fitting closely as it ever may. And in trying to be most —deep and clear, the word as an object, can get obliquely opaque in stating that which it is representative of saying, anyways. What’s there in this “gaming-naming,” fame— you may ask?! The ruling signifier in this gaming-naming process is a contraption, perhaps, like a metamorphosis, wildly given as a transformative imagery symbolically passed on as a customary causation. Hopefully not a casualty. For example,look at the aspect of this simple erudition conveyed in the following poem — With withered leaves I weave my boat and seemingly float it on the vast I know not how to swim , ‘coz they know not how to cast —💫✨ 🧡🦢🦢🦢🧡 ✨💫 An Omnibus of thought 💭 July 18th,2021 ✍️ © Madhu Goteti Symbolically, the preceding can ( in all frankness,) be perceived , perhaps, on different accounts of notions and perceptions. The opacous turbidity in those words could be deciphered either as a gray or a grey matter all the way, which “while being read as an “object,”of imagination, could be seen as a misplacement , displacement, approbation or even appropriation of words, displayed in so many alternative ways. And for the seeding growth seeking consanguinity with the world of illusive logics, translucency can get tied to the space- time or time-spaced passage. That makes a world of difference! There are no two thoughts to it ! “Quae visa placent,” says St. Thomas Aquinas —which literally implies that “objects,” have the power to please. Hence, a perceived object can only be —“that much appealing,” in as much as it impresses the eyes of the beholder. And done with skill, “object- words”can be equally gratifying but only to the extent that they succeed in seeking the approval of the mind’s eye. So, clearly, goodness in words or word objects seem evident in the way they reveal themselves in sight and most of all, the context of the revealing situation. Therefore, misplaced words ( objects) can be both panoramic and equally startling in our grander understanding of things and contexts. For example the word-object named Apple 🍎 in the context of it’s appearance takes on a different connotation in the book of genesis. In fact the Apple’s 🍎 whole tendency gets associated with a prohibitive act against it’s consumption. First, it becomes a source of pleasure and then, it gets traced to a sort of subjective—objectification by the beholder ; a matter of suggestive effect depicted and portrayed in it’s very nature , manner and composition. So on account of discrimination painted against Apple 🍎, I protest ! Why should mankind give a far lesser or greater personification to objects on their own accord. How can such a brutal cynicism be placed upon Apples 🍎. How can humanity ,in its search for elevated ideals ,hold restrictive orders over apples and also simultaneously, manger upon it as the last hope towards survival before calling in a doctor. I mean what kind of antithetical paradox could it be when apples 🍎 are seen as doubly pleasing in this either/or “never to be taken or eaten,” ways. Tell me, why was this unusual magnificence imposed upon Apples 🍎 in order to produce such an internal elevation of mind and touted human virtues . I am astonished 😯 especially when Apple’s solemness was casted away much as much it shows it’s proclivity in seizing diseases, delineated as in the following proverb : “an Apple 🍎 a day keeps the doctor away. “ Far more than anything, some objectified words ( such as Apples 🍎) can create a sense of “paradise lost,” effect. Think 💭 about it?! And , then again, going forward with other fruit comparisons , Apples could be facing a “step-sisterly” steerage while being gauged against , let’s say, a bunch of grapes 🍇. Principally, that synthesis could bring in a vast vague order by pressing discriminatory charges against mankind for making Apples 🍎 appear more impure than it’s compatriot kin —the grape🍇. So words and objects when left unhinged upon earthly can have a disastrous effect. Isn’t that a dangerous provocation in itself. To that point, an understanding would place a greater honor, than any ardent speech made out in the open —like this. None the less, some words can confer specific intents —more so, when delivered (in time,) to meet, all the sensory modalities in the context. And then , for a formulation to make an unguent speech effect, the mind may ,at times, relinquish the beseeching cogito’s scripted concept. In doing so, the intellect impedes”will,” to catch up with all matters, bringing wherewithal skill to it’s perfection’s best. In Expression! Yeah! It’s then and there, the right flow of rhetoric comes in alive ,as in, a fresh breath of air. 😊 Signing off with Free Speech while keeping an eye 👁️ over “misplaced —word-objects,” which may be at the brink of making perspicacious mistakes. —💫✨ 🧡🦢🦢🦢🧡 ✨💫 Jan 31st, 2024 ✍️ © Madhu Goteti
By Madhu Goteti 2 years ago in Fiction
We Were. Top Story - January 2024.
Two hours later, the space between the frantic crying of my human and the ringing of silence collide to taunt me. As I lie motionless in this crevice I barely even know myself anymore. One thing I am certain of is my memory is much more acute than that of my human, for I recall in vivid detail how I ended up here, while she on the other hand, has not one inclination of where I can be found. The wonder if ever to be found, has come up several times, but I have always been more of an optimist so I do not dwell long on this thought.
By Pōlani Monderen 2 years ago in Fiction
Berganashio - Chapter 1
Once upon a time, there was a family of tiny otters. This breed of otters was affectionately called totters. There was a terrible storm that blew apart their home. They rebuilt a new home, but it just wasn't the same. Life for the family did not feel as happy as it used to be. They did not play like they used to. The river felt colder and uninviting. Papa totter didn’t smoke his pipe anymore. Momma totter didn’t like to sew anymore. Sister totter didn’t play with her dolls anymore. Brother totter didn’t like his trains very much anymore. Momma totter started to leave on some nights. She would go on long walks, but no one knew where to. Then one night she never came back. Papa totter cried and cried. His heart was broken more than ever before. Brother totter thought it was all his fault. Sister totter thought it was her fault.
By Rowan Finley 2 years ago in Fiction
A New Home
The Conner family moved to Jarvis City at the start of the 2nd semester. Coming from Texas, the winters here were a bit harsher than what they were used to, but it wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle. At least Ron and Luary didn’t think so. Their youngest son wasn’t that convinced. He had a bad experience at a ski resort. That was the first time Bobby saw snow. To see the ground covered in it was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. He ran right out into it with nothing more than a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. He’s heard of a snowball fight. But now he realized that snow could fight back. He was sick for 2 weeks. Ever since, he hated the snow. He had no idea what winter was like.
By David E. Perry2 years ago in Fiction
My Song
Sicily | 1943 Under a firm mutual agreement of trust, the misfitted group of four banded together to clean up their mess. Corrado helped Father Burgio gather the dead bodies of the Italian soldiers, and Rosalie helped Garret give Private Hale a temporary burial - which consisted of blanketing him with a few layers thick sheets - until Garret was able to get his body back into the hands of the American military.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
