Muse Monday 9- Enigma Writing

I have begun following a site called Read Write Prompt -




This weeks photo prompt is by Sepleture {Mood Disorder}

I felt it was a great photo for this weeks Muse Monday theme entry, and for their 'Get Your Poem On' over at RWP...


read write prompt #111: broken chair
by Nathan Moore

What is going on in this photo? Why is the figure staring at a three-legged chair? Why is the figure wearing a hood? What is keeping the chair from falling down?

This image appeals to me because of its enigmatic nature. In terms of writing, you might want to stay with the questions the scene elicits, linger over them, hesitate before rushing to an answer.

Or, as is often the case when faced with an enigma, you might start to symbolize. Is this is picture about facing a problem, contemplating mystery, the incomplete and frail work of human labor in the face of nature’s grandeur?

Immaterial Portal by E Stelling

‘Planets Aligning in the next 24 Hours’ read the morning monitor headlines.
Feeling uneasy as he read all five computer screens lined up around the old make shift classroom, Less could see corporate media was still using dog-whistle politics to guide the underground urban decay to the surface.
“Damn Incorporeal wars; it is a good day to go out and rummage portal landings” he screamed at the screens.
Quickly gathering only a few things he might need, Less would dress light, so he could travel by foot, and move as fast as possible.
He had to return before sunset; it was just the way of life on the top world.
With no present danger of too much sun radiation he knew exercise would be good for his recent mercurial twists of temperaments.
Seven hours of gravitational pull, and two planets blocking the only real threat to his getting out of that damn bunker helped him forget the disembodied revolutions.
Face it anyone left here to begin with was a planetary vagabond.
Less pulled back the black covering from the only window he had not boarded up.
The renaissance clouds he saw spread across the sky was a good sign that the water supply might be renewed for upcoming months.
Wells were dry and he would not risk underground wilderness riders tunneling where he might choose to dig.
Less closed back up the window and headed out the back tunnel entrance.
After two hours of walking the desolate dry grounds he decided to take a few minutes and head up to a mountain plateau just over the horizon.
Often he would find uncovered object left from wild howling winds he heard deep into the night; it also allowed him to see for miles and see if there were any signs of movement from other top dwellers.
His water was almost gone in the canteen, so he had to return soon and set up collectors for the potential rain clouds moving in by the minute.
The sky reminded him of pictures his father used to collect.
Romanticism they would call it.
Painters that believed in socialism and a world of change.
Just as he reached the top he saw an object sitting alone.
Stunned he decided it was what he believed to be a dolmen.
Had a portal opened up in this very spot?
Nothing of this material remained on his planet for ages.
Ancients talked of its existence, but no books existed with pictures.
Plastic objects were the propaganda of the corporate legacies.
The material was as if it was made yesterday.
Less feel to his knees.
What emotions he felt at this moment.
A dolmen appearing in this very spot, and how could this be?
What was he to do?
Time was running out, and the sky was speaking speed to him.
He had only moments to decide what sign was being revealed to him.

Now I have to take this and turn it into a prose somehow. Due Thursday, so I will re-post by then!

28/1/2010- Here is one I found in my archives; it could fit as a short modern...

Dreams
So real
Fingers
Could
Never
Change
Strangers
Pass
Years
Matter
Time
Songs
Unsung
Hearts
Beat
Rhythm
Skips
Undone
Secrets
Dismantle
Dreams

© E Stelling, 2009


This is below is the piece I Dismantle'd from the Sci-Fi piece I attempted last week...

Planets Aligning, twenty four hours seemed like years
Morning monitor reads like corporate media menu
Old dog-whistle politics, guiding people astray
They head to desolate underground, urban decay
Even on good days, portal remain refuge awaits
In spite of sun radiation, needed exercise, dress light
Hidden bunkers, hunger, disembodied revolution
Clouded out by renaissance sky, revealing beauty
Hopeful, filled canteens, desolate ground cover green
Future, mountain plateau just over the horizon
Uncovered objects left, wild howling winds lead astray
Signs of movement from other top dwellers?
Collectors, often scary, fleeting nightmare play
Damn incorporeal wars, blasting, effects everlasting
Stunned one might be, set upon the knees as if to pray
Dolmen, ancient existence, materials no longer remains
Emotions, propaganda prompted, times mistakes…

E Stelling, 2010- (I feel this piece is unfinished, need more time to re-arrange)

Please feel free to leave comments on how you feel any of these pieces worked for you...Thanks!