Sunday, May 13, 2007

A Poem Written Long Ago.

The Making of a Storyteller

Story time.
Put on the bedside lamp,
And tuck me in well.
Now, if you please,
Start.

The beginning should have been better.
I think I’ll invent a new one.

The characters –
But I don’t like them the way they are.
So I’ll improvise.
The hero’s more interesting now,
The villain more menacing.
The story continues, weaving its tale.

I improvise all the time.

The plot thickens, but I make it thicker.
The pace quickens, but I make it quicker.
Then comes the nail-biting finish
I’ll add some more details, though,
And end it the way I want to.
The story goes where I want it to go.
It’s better that way, I think.

It’s time for me to close my eyes.
I can hear you putting out the light.
Then the door closes softly.
You think I’m asleep
But I’m lying still,
All athrill,
Thinking about that story.

When I’m grown up,
Whenever that will be,
I think I’ll write a new story…
Write it my way,
Just to show them all
The way it’s really done.

5 kindred spirits have swallowed my rambling:

raghu said...

how is really done?
and u shud reply to comments.. on ur blog itself.

Priyanka Kumar said...

"how is really done?"

the stick figure, the epitome of contriteness, will reply with a line from a wonderful, wonderful book:

no one is ever told any story but their own.

that was Aslan the lion in CS Lewis' The Horse snd His Boy. i love Narnia.

raghu said...

i HATE my typos..soo embarassing :(

Priyanka Kumar said...

aw, don't worry, proves we're human. i HATE people who type perfectly - especially the word "the". with me it ALWAYS come out as "teh". then i go back and correct it all. sheesh.

speedpost said...

dear priyanka,

reasonably attractive unknown ppl... chk urself please