Nearly a year has passed since I lost doodled my thoughts and ideas on here and even longer on 'Echoes From the Gnosis'. Time to rectify the situation, methinks, me hopes. So hopefully more pontificating upon the quotidian existence or streams of thought like a sixth river (though my mind often feels like it has drunk from the Lethe and savoured Lotus fruit-pie) - and to flow through the Erebus that is my mind, hopefully bypassing Tartarus and who knows, maybe a whistle stop tour to the Isles of the Blessed via the Elysium Fields before safely arriving upon Gaia's shores once more.
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Tuesday, 2 July 2013
Sunday, 2 September 2012
Mini-Sagas
The Daily Telegraph, together with the writer Brian Aldiss, came up with the concept of the mini-saga in the 1980s. The newspaper held various mini-saga writing competitions, none of which I entered, but I recall that one of these wonderful little compositions used to be read out on BBC Radio 4 each morning as part of the Today programme. Equally, I recall at school having to write one or two of these as part of my English classes. For those uninitiated, a mini-saga is quite simply a short piece of writing, which contains exactly fifty words, and a title of up to fifteen words. They can rhyme but not be poetic in nature, be amusing, be profound, be silly, be serious or be educational or be otherwise. The only rule is the word count, half the size of a drabble, and without the confines of being a fictional narrative.
Feeling creative (and hopefully on the road to inspiration), I have tried to doodle some mini-sages of late.
*****
Strange Shadows in Empty Rooms.
Walking down the hall, whilst passing a rotund, little man, I see a skinny wretch, gangly with Modigliani-like features. Nearby a pear-shaped fellow; his neighbour apparently with no head, just legs. All familiar looking, yet unworldly, strange, grotesque.
Upon leaving this nightmare world, a sign outside reads:
“Hall of Mirrors”.
*****
Signs and Symbols
Signs and symbols, souls and shadows, archetypes and egos. Anima and animus, Buddhism, Gnosticism, alchemy and the puer aeternus. Unconscious / Subconscious.
A series of repressed memories mingled with lucid dreams and a quest to understand and eat from the Tree of Knowledge.
All in Jung's head, now in mine.
Transference.
*****
The Line of Beauty.
"What is Beauty, and what is Truth?" I think she was trying to say.
My mind conjured up images of enchanted splendour; from that of Botticelli's Venus rising, to Hogarth's ogee of curving arcs.
Looking in the mirror, she turned again to enquire
"Does my bum look big in this?!"
*****
Feeling creative (and hopefully on the road to inspiration), I have tried to doodle some mini-sages of late.
*****
Strange Shadows in Empty Rooms.
Walking down the hall, whilst passing a rotund, little man, I see a skinny wretch, gangly with Modigliani-like features. Nearby a pear-shaped fellow; his neighbour apparently with no head, just legs. All familiar looking, yet unworldly, strange, grotesque.
Upon leaving this nightmare world, a sign outside reads:
“Hall of Mirrors”.
*****
Signs and Symbols
Signs and symbols, souls and shadows, archetypes and egos. Anima and animus, Buddhism, Gnosticism, alchemy and the puer aeternus. Unconscious / Subconscious.
A series of repressed memories mingled with lucid dreams and a quest to understand and eat from the Tree of Knowledge.
All in Jung's head, now in mine.
Transference.
*****
The Line of Beauty.
"What is Beauty, and what is Truth?" I think she was trying to say.
My mind conjured up images of enchanted splendour; from that of Botticelli's Venus rising, to Hogarth's ogee of curving arcs.
Looking in the mirror, she turned again to enquire
"Does my bum look big in this?!"
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