The shadow of your silhouette lingers, tempting, tantalizing. It could be you, among the shadow-puppets dancing on the walls of these lugubrious walls, the walls of prison, the walls of this motel-room I’ve come to loathe. It could be you, your silhouette against the forests were fruits of opportunity still remain unpicked. It could be you before you went into the shadows, as the puppet-masters made you dance, pulled by syringe strings of back-alley degradations. It could be you, returning paper-thin but yet unfolded into that black paper crane hanging in the graveyard oak. It could be you and not a shadow of my bourbon dreams breathing softly on my unshaven cheek. It could be you, the shadow silhouette on the inside of my cave, it could be you. I take a swig from my bourbon bottle to keep your precious presence a little while.
Today Sam have us writing prose poetry at dVerse which I have chosen to combine with Angela Goff’s Visdare picture prompt. dVerse pub opens at 3PM CET. The image source is here.
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January 30, 2014
Björn Rudbergs writings 
fabulous
What sadness and loneliness I feel as I read this poem. And though the bourbon may take away the pain momentarily, it will only be worse tomorrow.
I life lost to abuse and bourbon his only medicine. Powerful write BR.
Shadows play tricks on us, and it seems he has become comfortable with the shape shifting shadows for fear of what they might or might not be. Lonely and poignant prose, Bjorn!
Thank you.. The picture really helped to develop the poem
Yes, that is a great picture, so much to write about! You did it justice 🙂 hope you have a great day Bjorn!
gorgeous as always Bjorn.
You take to this form incredibly well. You have stated that “free verse” is harder for you than more formal poetics, yet if you put in line breaks for this wonderful intriguing prose, you would create one of your best free verse efforts; a grand piece, brother, enjoyed it immensely.
whew…drinking the memories away…or drinking to keep them just a bit longer…its a hard life you know….you dance, pulled by syringe strings of back-alley degradations….i like your phrasing there too…once hooked it can seem so hard to get back out….
very cool how you translate the silhouette of the image into the poem… def. the loneliness of hotel rooms is the perfect birth place for fantasies like that and bourbon doesn’t really help to forget.. cool prose poetry björn
Very good poem! I enjoyed the rhythm provided by the repetition in your writing, Björn! I also liked the mystery behind the words, the context we can only imagine.
Truly poetic prose.
As I sit here thinking what comment to write, I realize that I just keep wanting to go back and read your prose poetry instead. I believe I want to read it to keep its presence like you write about her for “a little while.” Nicely done!
Wonderful word choice Björn, painting a sad atmospheric prose, painful in its loneliness.
Anna :o]
Richly evocative images create a haunting lyric, a deep and yearning music for what was not but could have been.
The repetition of ” it could be you” works so well in this. Gay chose the descriptive word, haunting…I have to second that. Perfect.
amazingly inventive and with a verbal image that carries it right to the end.
This is so good.. I love the dark side (writing it, I mean, not living it) and you write it well. Great take on the photo. Love the line.. syringe string of back alley degradations..
“your silhouette against the forests were fruits of opportunity still remain unpicked”
nice here, potential, hope yet unplucked
did you ever notice that when you lose someone you love, you see them everywhere – your mind refuses to admit they’ve gone. I remember this in your words
Yes I could see that happening.. the haunting in way you see a familiar neckline, the way somebody walks or in a voice…
very dark, yet beautifully written
Wow! You see how loquacious drinkers can wring our hearts? And then the Chimeras. Did I get that right? Gosh.
I think chimeras where involved here somewhere too.
Unique imagery of photo written into your poetic prose…the repetition adds to the loneliness and feeling of futility.
(I assume you mean “swig”… not “swag”)
Rightly so… Will correct.
…bourbon dreams….the pain is only covered up for awhile, thus doesn’t go away but returns. I like the way you incorporated the photo prompt into this prose poem..well done, as usual 😉
What a pic to go with the words…….. Enjoyed the whole thing…..
Wonderfully done but did you mean swig and not swag? A swag, in Australia anyway, is something you carry on your back like a rucksack or backpack. A swig is a drink from a bottle.
Quite right… yes I changed that..
This feels like a (very poetic) chapter from a novel. Very nice, very atmospheric!
The shadows, that scary puppet-master—ah, I’m not going back there, ye know. I’m done with it.
Addiction and loss truly do make shadows of those afflicted and affected. This is an astonishing work, Bjorn.
This could be inspired by the loneliness of a motel room
Actually I wrote it in my motel room in Sunnyvale… fortunately there is just my imagination in the darkness portrayed.
i truly think that prostitution..is far from limited to motel rooms..and across the rail road tracks of life…
Wherever we lay our freedoms aside..prostitution..i think can come…
So i cannot really judge a person who gives it away for money..
Particularly in a healthy legal environment..where they are in control..of their wares..
And it is all their..decision..
if nothing else..of course as a rare exception…
they are truly free in doing this…no matter what..another person..
may think or feel about it..
While other folks..continue serving..
a master they may hate..a prison..of whatever person..
or organization..becomes their pimp…
but anyway..it’s the oldest profession..
and obviously here for some
biological reason…2..morality isn’t always
reality..i’m almost completely sure of that..if nothing
else.
Oh but falling in love in a situation like that would be truly devastating…
Wonderful writing.
Things always look better through a glass
I love how you layered your prose-brilliantly done and I do feel moved and sad for the puppet~
The past in a silhouette blended with memories in a motel room. Vivid and touching.
Very nice! I like the VisDare image and words swirl through my mind but no attention span/motivation to write.
wow, who wouldn’t love that bourbon bottle now? Goes so perfectly with the image.
By the way, just check if the sound recording link is correct.
I think the sound link should work now..
Lovely and deep, language and imagery intertwining wonderfully.
There’s much dept in this prose poem, and such a contrast to the single-dimensionality of the silhouettes, the ghosts, that the narrator sees, imagines, remembers. A prose poem I wish I’d written.