∙ Ꮠ ∙ Ᏹ∙ imaginary friend ∙Ᏹ ∙ Ꮠ ∙ {redux}

my mother kept my secret well.  no one but she and i ever knew about Mari.  my father was oblivious until i was six and,  sobbing hysterically,  i swore that i hadn’t taken his hunting knife and cut an X in my forehead ~ Mari  had done it accidentally.  he yelled at my mother all the way to the emergency room for not telling him years before about my imaginary friend.  my mother quieted him by saying most children had them and the best way to deal with the situation was to ignore it.  my father never mentioned Mari again.  she was furious and wouldn’t stop whining the next day “why did your father keep saying i’m imaginary?  i’m real, Anne! i’m real!”  i  finally consoled her by saying that, from now on,  i would let her sleep with me instead of  on the trundle bed {with the one condition that she would never cut my bangs again.}  by the time i was 11,  i got the irony of  my mother being a child psychologist when i saw her best-selling book “The Magic of Reality” in the front window of  our my favorite bookstore.  now i wonder if  i was ever anything more to her than a case study.  as i got older,  i began to want to have time to be alone.  Mari’s response to my request was always “we’ll be together ’til the end.”  she’d shrug if  i would ask when “the end” might be.  i escaped into my own world by painting.  my mother said i was “gifted” and,  when i was 15, she sent us me off  to the Académie in Paris,  one of the best schools of art, painting and sculpture.  mother arranged for a large attic room.  perfect for a studio as well as bedroom,  it had a multi-paned window covering the northern wall and extending up into the roof.  it was in an expensive women-only hostelry which my mother equated with supervised.  la matrone was not only drunk on her arse most of  the time,  she was the one who supplied me with wine at every meal and an extra bottle every evening.  the wine did more for my painting than the school ever did.  i became known for haunting portraits of  a girl who seemed ready to jump off the canvas and into the room.  to men she was a Lolita;  to women, a child who needed their protection.  no matter what her pose,  the background was always dried-blood red ~ the exact shade of  the wine i drank.

then came the night it all seemed to fall apart. Mari had been trying to reassure me that the painting was going well,  but i would have none of  it.  screaming  “you don’t understand!”  i threw the half-full bottle of  wine into the corner of  the room,  then threw myself  down onto the mattress, burying my face in the pillows.  i could hear her pick the bottle up off  the floor;  set it on the table.  she turned off  the lights and lay down next to me.  as she wrapped her arms around me tenderly,  she whispered  “don’t worry,  Anne.  it will all come together in the morning”  and with that, we drifted off  to sleep.

the sky was a lovely clear blue when i awoke. the studio was filled with a wonderful light.  i looked at the painting across the room and knew exactly what needed to be done.  just a few strokes of  the brush completed it and i signed the bottom corner…..       Marianne

∙ Ꮠ ∙ Ᏹ ∙ Ꮠ ∙

too many years apart

souls merged again ~ coming home

no longer broken

∙ Ꮠ ∙ Ᏹ ∙ Ꮠ ∙

∙ Ᏹ ∙


“Me And My Imaginary Friend”   Colin Hay

originally posted 24 October 2011
this story was written in a true collaboration between Ainsley Allmark and myself.  you may have seen our previously posted  poetry duet  or partnerships in rounds 11 through 16 at SPARK.  i began the story then we exchanged emails with our ideas until we arrived at the above final version.  even some sentences were written in part by each of  us,  though full credit is due Ainsley for the haiku and the concept of  how to merge  the two characters at the end.  i have never worked with another writer this way before and it was a genuine pleasure.  { thank you for all you contributed, Ainsley. }  you can find his stunning  poetry and photographs at any of  the Dolphin links in the blogrolls at the bottom of  the page.  three of  his most popular blogs are  Dolphin Ainsley,  Dolphin Muse  and  Dolphin Visions.

Haibun (Japanese: 俳文 haikai writings) is a literary composition that combines prose and haiku. The range of haibun is broad and includes, but is not limited to, the following forms of prose:  autobiography,  biography,  diary,  essay,  history,  prose poem,  short story and travel literature…..

A haibun may record a scene, or a special moment, in a highly descriptive and objective manner or may occupy a wholly fictional or dream-like space. The accompanying haiku may have a direct or subtle relationship with the prose and encompass or hint at the gist of what is recorded in the prose sections…..

Contemporary practice of haibun composition in English is evolving rapidly. Generally, a haibun consists of one or more paragraphs of prose written in a concise,  imagistic  haikai  style,  and one or more haiku…..Read More

i  also recommend reading the We Write Poems prompt post HERE as it contains excellent links about haibun.

image credit goes to Dave/swineandroses at deviantArt

this is our submission to ~

Unexpected Poetics    at   dVerse ~ Poets Pub
prompt:    the unexpected
submit a new or old poem


thank you,  ManicDdaily!

i am participating in ~

NaBloPoMoSoup

Advertisements

16 Comments

Filed under dVerse ~ Poets Pub, fantasy, science fiction and horror, haibun, haikū, NaBloPoMo, narrative poetry, poetry, Post-A-Day2012, Post-A-Week2012, redux

16 responses to “∙ Ꮠ ∙ Ᏹ∙ imaginary friend ∙Ᏹ ∙ Ꮠ ∙ {redux}

  1. i wonder how many paintings and artworks emerged like this…we’re all broken people in a way..aren’t we..?

    • if we’re lucky, the different “sides” of us coexist peacefully. i often wonder if creative people have more turmoil between the facets of their personalities. {smile} thank you for stopping by, Claudia! ♥

  2. i remember this one…smiles…and i think most creative people have a touch of the insanity within them, hopefully not to the extreme but then again look at those that cut off an ear or took their life so young….

    • did you see the 60 minutes show covering a study which “proves” van Gogh was murdered? they said he was shot {possibly accidentally} by some neighborhood boys and he reported that he shot himself so the boys wouldn’t get in trouble. it was interesting.

  3. Phew…. She certainly was tormented and, who is to say these imaginary friends don’t exist when we are small children. That was quite the story Dani, gripping!

  4. I recall reading this before…its still lovely and haunting the second time around ~ Hope you are fine Dani ~

  5. That was quite a story, How sad to think one might be only a case study.

  6. Wow – well, a lot that was unexpected here from the opening image on. Very well done. I think of Marianne also as the image of France here – though not sure that was intended. There’s a kind of sweetness as well as territorial dominion of the friend, which is frightening but also compelling (and sympathetic.) Thanks for participating. k.

  7. Very clever! You and Ainsley play a beautiful duet. And, perfect ending to a compelling story.

i'd love to hear from you ♥ thanks! {comments must be approved before they are visible}

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s