“Everybody has a story…..and a scream.” — Rachel
Roberts
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SOURCE |
“When you’re
drowning, you don’t say ‘I would be incredibly pleased if someone would have
the foresight to notice me drowning and come and help,’ you just scream. — John Lennon
Midweek
Motif ~ Scream
In
his diary in an entry headed "Nice 22 January 1892", Edvard Munch
wrote:
“I
was walking along the road with two friends – the sun was setting –
suddenly the sky turned blood red – I paused, feeling exhausted, and
leaned on the fence – there was blood and tongues of fire above the
blue-black fjord and the city – my friends walked on, and I stood there
trembling with anxiety – and I sensed an infinite scream passing through
nature.
He
later described his inspiration for the image:
One
evening I was walking along a path, the city was on one side and the fjord
below. I felt tired and ill. I stopped and looked out over the fjord—the sun
was setting, and the clouds turning blood red. I sensed a scream passing
through nature; it seemed to me that I heard the scream. I painted this
picture, painted the clouds as actual blood. The color shrieked. This became
The Scream.”
Have
you ever come to that point when you wanted to scream at you or at the world or
have you ever come across anyone, anything, screaming?
So
let us see, write, read and hear some screaming today J
Lightening
by
Matsuo Basho
Lightening-
The
heron’s cry
Stabs
the darkness
To A Daughter Leaving Home
by
Linda Pastan
When
I taught you
at eight to ride
a bicycle, loping along
beside you
as you wobbled away
on two round wheels,
my own mouth rounding
in surprise when you pulled
ahead down the curved
path of the park,
I kept waiting
for the thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,
while you grew
smaller, more breakable
with distance,
pumping, pumping
for your life, screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving
goodbye.
at eight to ride
a bicycle, loping along
beside you
as you wobbled away
on two round wheels,
my own mouth rounding
in surprise when you pulled
ahead down the curved
path of the park,
I kept waiting
for the thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,
while you grew
smaller, more breakable
with distance,
pumping, pumping
for your life, screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving
goodbye.
Please share your
new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others in the spirit of the community—
(Next week Susan’s Midweek
Motif will be ~ Colour / Color)