A couple of years ago my wife and I were standing amongst the throngs of tourists beneath Juliet’s balcony in Verona. While the others were clamoring to get their pictures made touching the breast of Juliet’s statue for luck, I found myself wondering, “If I was to try to write a story, my own Romeo and Juliet, how could I supply the tension Shakespeare supplied to his young lovers vis-a-vis their feuding families?”

Knowing that someone starting out to write should write about what that person knows, and being from the American South, the obvious occurred to me while standing there in Juliet’s courtyard. What better to provide tension between young lovers than southern racial mores? Idea’s immediately flooded through my mind, so when we arrived home I wrote my first story since grade school, an inter-racial lover’s tragedy in the spirit of Shakespeare’s. I have written many stories since, but it remains my longest, and my wife says my best. I was inspired when I wrote it as I have been for few others, almost as though Juliet was pushing me to tell the story she had inspired.

My wife would lie in bed at night reading what I had written during the day. I had mentioned to her years previously that I enjoyed writing, and had been told many years ago that I had some skill, but I could see in her excitement that what I was writing was pretty good, which only encouraged me to continue, and to try to write better.

Since then writing has become a fun hobby for me. I can say that I would not bother if there was no one to read what I write, so I appreciate this site. I can usually turn out a short story for my wife and my Prose friends to read before breakfast, and I enjoy reading the stories they share as well. I cannot say that writing has “helped me“ per se, but I think Prose has helped me in that it gives me insight into what others like to read... what “works well”, and what doesn’t.

It is great that those inspired to write, particularly young writer’s, have sites like Prose today where they can find encouragement and feedback for their feelings and ideals. There is no need for you to wait, like I did, until you are fifty years old to “find your Juliet”. I would have given anything to have had a place like this to bare my soul thirty-five years ago.

So, to those who believe that social media is a bad thing, “perhaps you have just not found the “write” site for you”. Write on! (And read a little, too ;)

The neighborhood went ablaze in an early morning as they heard a woman screaming. Another woman was crying out loud like crazy at the next door. Police snippers standby. Groggy man from each door was overthrown outside.Its just that the husbands were drunk last night and entered the wrong door.

I detected your style from the beginning, yet your frame I did not despise

I gathered your disposition instantly upon meeting your provocative eyes

My instinct was confirmed while witnessing your consumption of motley salves

Oh, what fortitude it took to harness my heart as you imbibed, doing nothing by halves

Your demonstration wore the aroma of emptiness, which awareness you worked relentlessly to numb

The emptiness was relatable, however, the result of your efforts became zero-sum

Uniqueness, confidence and skill you brazenly exuded

So I chose a common path, with reservation, to pretend to be deluded

You seem to possess a covert compulsion to hunt and subdue your prey by wit

While I have a potent proclivity to excavate what is deeply buried, bit-by-bit

You provided organic nourishment, a serendipitous expedition into your mind

Perhaps I supplied secondary fruit whenever your primary entertainment began to unwind

Our time of illusory opulence has come to an end, as you now perceive what I’ve held back from inception

And I, Dear Paraquat, find blatant disregard far too uncouth to permit any ongoing connection

I could have endured the charade so long as I felt, in your company, like an allusive lotus flower

Yet, immediate dispassion ensued when you revealed your true desire for me to submit to base orthodoxy & cower

I now recognize an upside to being starved by my former contract partner for the past twenty years

I’ve honed a deep aversion to neglect and will not offer, to the unappreciative, my tears

You miscalculated, Dear Paraquat, assuming you had more time to pull my strings

My threshold for foolishness has diminished, and a penchant for an adept artist will increase abreast my wings

While our interaction was recessed, I remained loyal to our bond

After reuniting, I was unsure how our temperaments would respond

When I whispered, “I love you,” I truly meant the “you” whom you cannot seem to fathom

The “you” who will not allow himself to be vulnerable merely coveted by a pseudo harem

The beautiful you perhaps went into hiding at the tender age of six

And I look forward to eternal paradise where all human ills will enjoy their fix

I cannot say if instead it was your aim to dissuade my sincere, intrepid energy

Whatever your goal, being different, as we ALL are, is no excuse for disrupting the flow of our synergy

“Carry on, as you were” Dear Paraquat! Our season was but a stint

Meanwhile, the lotus will press toward a lifestyle in which she is appropriately regarded by her Elect flock as Bona Fide Mint!

….and she will offer NO LESS to her companions.

Still, there’s mercy, my forever love. You taught the lotus well.

©

7/1/2017

Crystal Black, as Blackhandmade