Part 3 :My miserable existence

By Mory Keita

Part 3 : Day of judgement 

             

         All stood before the Lord to testify and receive honors for their deeds but I was the only one blamed for the misery and fate of mankind. Behold, an angry crowd of poor peasants approached , axes and machetes in hand, ready to attack and beat me till my last breath. “Monster,” they shouted furiously hurling young and old, men and women like possessed  by a mysterious invisible dark force pushing them. Barking dogs, mounted horse men positioned to attack and kill me at any instant, and an angry mob of peasants with red eyes, furious like bulls, chased me while shouting “kill the monster, kill the monster.” I felt the need to prove my innocence, believing in the teachings of the book of the Lord, which promise fair judgment for all.

“What monstrous sin did I commit to deserve such hospitality?” I asked peacefully of them, but their shadows approaching me kept growing bigger and bigger.

 “Kill the monster, kill him!” they repeated louder than before, branding their tools and arms against me, ordering their dogs and pets to bait me and tear  my body into shreds , leaving me with pain and injuries.

“Hear me, O noble people, I never insulted you, touched your properties, plantations or herds. All I ever wanted was food and water to appease my hunger and thirst. Is this how you treat strangers?” I tried to reason with them.

They heard, but did not listen; they saw but did not reason. They continued approaching me.

“O good heaven, what have I done to deserve such a burden on my head that no mortal has ever had?”

Their shadows approached my silhouette quickly.

“Monster,” a priest leading the crowd shouted at me, the cross of Christ at hand “by the heavens that bend above us, tell me, and tell me what thou satanic creature want from us?”

“I am sorry, food” I replied quickly.

“Monster,” he said again,“by the God that protect us all, tell me, tell me banished creature, messenger of evil what dost thou want from us?”

          Seeing that I had no chance of convincing them of my good intentions, I ran, hiding behind trees in the forest and bushes. But they pursued me and tried to kill me until I disappeared from their sights. From that day I learned that the only just judgment is God’s, not men’s.

Part 3 :My miserable existence

Part 4 :My miserable existence

                                                        
                                                         By Mory Keita

                                              Part4:  Revelation
                    “To be, or not to be, that is the question."
                                                  Hamlet, Shakespeare

              Long I walked searching, like a desert nomad, for father’s location. I crushed earth and heaven wandering across seas and land like Ulysses “following knowledge like a sinking star beyond the utmost bond of human thought”.
         I finally found my father’s mansion in an isolated place in Scotland and decided to pay him a visit that night. When darkness enveloped the sky like carpet, I adventured into his chamber through a broken window. While jumping at the window, I imagined my father jumping on my shoulders, crying of happiness. I imagined him ordering a banquet for his beloved son's return.
            I calmly entered the entrance to his chamber room and sat in an old chair in a dark corner of the room and began contemplating the family's tableaus hung on the tall, decorated walls of the chamber. These are my ancestors, great gentlemen and ladies; I felt pride in my heart seeing the nobles of my lineage. Suddenly, there came a tapping as someone entering the door. I hid by the rose decorated curtain covering the window, then there came a person entering. My heart pumped as I observed the tall silhouette approaching my hideout.
“Father,” I said uncovering myself.
“Who are you? What are you doing in my chamber?” he instantly replied, shivering as if he had feared this moment for so long.
“I am… I am your son,” I replied, approaching the sun light to make my face more visible and distinguishable.
“Do not approach me, Monster,” he yelled trembling, “I have no son.”
He took a few seconds to look at my face, and then, realizing who I was, moved backward little by little as if searching to escape.
“Have you forgotten me father?” I said astonished by his hostile welcome.
“No, my God, what have I done? You are a mistake”   he said with remorse, hands on his chest.
Confused, I looked into his blue eyes and said, “but, I am your son, flesh of your flesh”.
“Don’t you understand you are not human, you are a monster, my punishment for my sins” he said crying.
     My soul felt like a asteroid from sky. I parted from the chamber, sad, furious, and lost, then set out to travel the world while waiting of a revelation from heaven.

Part 4 :My miserable existence

Part 5 :My miserable existence

By Mory Keita

Part 5: Exodus 

          After my many disappointments, I set myself to traveling the uncivilized parts of the world in quest of knowledge and understanding. In that mid-October, I took the road to the Americas where I tried to live in harmony with nature’s wilderness. Living there, I found an inner peace and sense of belonging cultivated in harmony with the elements constituting the universe. I have found a new purpose in life— accepting who I am.

          To conclude my long and boring life story, I would like to explain the nature of happiness. Happiness is not beauty, talent or prestige. It is an inner voice that shows us the light to something farther ahead, a greater understanding of the world and its principles. Happiness is a combination of knowledge, identity and a sense of purpose.This is the tale of my miserable existence.

Part 5 :My miserable existence

He Wishes For The ClothsOf Heaven By W,B Yeats

I thought i would share with you one of my favorite poems , W.B Yeats' He wishes for the clothes of heaven. despite its brevity  this poem conveys strong emotions and thoughts.

Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

He Wishes For The ClothsOf Heaven By W,B Yeats

Advise needed on writing

 Dear friends and readers,

 I am currently working on my first novel. I have been trying to continue writing but I am having trouble keeping up with the plot due confusions. The problem is that i cannot decide whether to write my novel in first or third person. I know that both POV have advantages and disadvantages.  I personally feel that the first person conveys directly the message to the reader but for some reason i am unable to continue writing the novel in first person. Moreover, when I try to rewrite a chapter in third person, I feel like something vital in the story has been lost. Due to those complications, I am starting to think that I should abandon my current novel but I have come so far and I am certain that it will be a success if written correctly.

Is it better to write a romance novel in first or third person? Do you know some tips to help me in the novel writing process? By the way, I have written many short stories before but this is my first novel. If you are willing to read parts of my novel in progress and provide your feedback, please leave your email address in the comment box below or email me at morykeita94@gmail.com. 

Best Regards,

Mory

Advise needed on writing

A propos de l'amour et de la Beauté

Est-il possible d’aimer  sans beauté ou de voir de la beauté sans l’amour ? Par beauté, je parle de l’apparence physique et par amour, du sentiment qui nous rajeunis. Les anciens maitres de philosophie et de science nous apprennent que l’amour est une manifestation de la beauté. Alors, je me demande que ’ce qui manifeste l’amour. Es la beauté ?  Soyons raisonnable, est-il possible de séparer les deux ? Peut-on imaginer même l’amour sans une couverture de beauté ? 

La découverte de la signification du mot «  amour » est certes une tache qui demande de la patience et de ferveur et surtout de l’expérience. Cette expérience, à mon avis, vient avec le temps. Ces implications nous apparaissent et changent comme des saisons. C’est une alternance qui nous fait questionner l’existence d’une réalité. Par-là, je parle de réalité amoureuse et non pas de la connaissance du sentiment en elle-même.

Je ne me considère de n’importe quelle façon comme un charmant garçon, ni cime une personne avec une connaissance du monde de la science ou de la poésie qui égal celle des Socrate, Newton, Platon et Baudelaire. Ma connaissance et compréhension de l’amour n’est pas livresque et elle ne dérive nullement d’un expriment scientifique ou d’une sensation poétique, mais de leçons j’ai tiré de mes expérience amoureuses. Alors, cher lecteurs, Que penser vous de l’amour et elle reconnaissable ? Pourquoi ou pourquoi pas ?

A propos de l'amour et de la Beauté

Penelope --- A poem

By Mory Keita

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A day without my love is a day without sunshine,

And a night spent without him is a starless night.

Sunsets and sunrises do but, like the sea, part us.

Stars shadow compared to his beauty and majesty,

Moon and sun, perched there above Olympus like clouds,

Envy our eternal happiness for all are but paltry jewelries.

Light and dark are but cruel illusion to compress our love.

Why should we abide by the laws of nature?

Why should we rest our love on these seashores?

A day without my love is eternity spent in solitude,

And night spent without him is like a barren horizon.

Fight my love, O my brave king, rage like wounded wind.

I shall wait for your return on every Ithacan seashore singing;

Singing with wounded wind songs of thou lost and return,

“O there he comes, there he stands, and there is my love,”

Fight my love like the wind, for thou heart art ageless.

O Olympians when shall thou return my love to my heart?

For like a falling star, my heart sinks into seas of sorrow.

Penelope --- A poem

I,Mory,Thor

        
          He firmly stood atop a giant skyscraper in downtown New York, observing the streets, contemplating the empire of peace he has created. An empire ruled by him, king of kings, Monarch of monarchs, Caliphs of caliphs, and God of gods- him the Punisher. As he walked down the crowded street, his name was constantly hailed by ignorant, fearful simpletons, “All hail the Punisher, we are thy humble servants." He glorified himself for bringing chaos, which he called peace, along with his demonic steps. He called dictatorship, democracy, chaos, peace and the world, his eternal kingdom. To symbolize his supremacy over the city, he replaced the head of the status of liberty with his own and placed his giant status atop the Empire State building.

          But behold! His reign of terror was to come to an end when I,Mory,Thor, god of thunder rebelled against him. I went to his “celestial palace” one early morning, defeated his guards with my godly fury. Then, I shouted at him “Give up, the punisher. Your reign of terror is over".
" Terror?" he replied mockingly “I bring peace to this world and the people like me."
"Come out of your cage, fight me coward if thou are deserving of thy name." I furiously yelled at him.
" Prepare to confront my fury", he instantly replied.

          He suddenly threw his smelly body upon me and we began fighting. After endless hours of intense fighting, I finally smacked him with my mighty hammer and thunder stroke him. He perished like a vulture. With rebellious bravery, I brought real "peace" to the world and vanquish forever chaos.

          Since that memorable event that defined the faith of mankind, humans are still hailing my name “All hail Mory,Thor, our Savior."

Note: This is piece of writing is purely fictional. To learn more about Thor,encourage you to click here to read the Wikipedia article.

I,Mory,Thor

Supreme understanding

By Mory Keita

The horizon appears far above my head,

The sun gleams without end behind cloudy curtains,

Like some eternal flame blown by an eternal being.

Beyond my sight lie comets, stars and distant galaxies.

Is it reasonable if one seek things beyond one’s  comprehension?

If one was to ponder upon the unknown, the unseen?

If one was to say, all things can be seen through the mind?

I have seen a ladder spreading from continent to continent,

I have seen all there is to be seen on earth, and I wasn’t amazed.

Should I build a ladder spreading from earth to heaven?

Should I climb it to see the farthest corners of the universe?

Is it possible to understand the universe, to spread it across a table?

Perhaps, there is no such things as supreme understand; not in this world.

Supreme understanding

Regarde mon amour

Par Mory Keita

Regarde dans  mes yeux  mon amour,

Vois-tu cette lumière  éclairant mon visage,

Sur le flan droit de ma joue, me vois-tu sourire ?

Regarde le ciel étoilé, et les oiseaux qui chantent,

Entends-tu ton nom sur leurs petites lèvres ?

It chantent de ta beauté, et seulement  d’elle.


English translation


Look in my eyes my love
,Do you see that light shining on my face,
On the right flank of my cheek, you see me smile?
Look at the starry sky and the birds sing,
Do you hear your name on their lips?Sing your beauty It, and only her.

Regarde mon amour

Tales of an idle man

By Mory Keita

For many a century, I have plucked and pocked my nose,

Slept and visited place I did not visit or sleep at.

I have visited Caesar’s palace in Rome and sat at his dinner table.

I flew on a flying carpet to India and sat atop the Taj Mahal.

I have lived fairy tales and saved a princess from a evil dragon.

Then relaxing my muscles, I suddenly was transported in Egypt,

And felt in love with Cleopatra, fought with Mark Antoine and Caesar.

In short I have lived and traveled across the Milky Way in a hot bathtub,

And I have lived my life to the fullest like the great Ulysses.

Written in response to  Magpie Tales: Mag 28.

Tales of an idle man

Spring of youth

By Mory Keita

The springs and summers of our days are spread across this seashore

Like some lonely drunkard lost in the sweetness of his beverage.

Shall we see ere the end those unseen moons and sunsets,

Those wasted times lived with dullness in lieu of vagabondage?

Perhaps there is redemption, a magic defying the laws of physic,

At some place I have heard of long ago during some trivialities;

At some shrouded place pours water from a fountain that renew the vow of youth.

Perhaps we might find it accompanied by some old companions  

If we sail the sea and travel across earth like Jason and the Argonauts.

Guided by venus, we may find that trio of one-eyes crones,

Those ageless creatures said to know everything that lies on earth.

Will thou come with me delicate flower of saintly days?

Let us sail hand in hand and heart in heart under the moonlight

Like sunrises and sunsets, springs and summers to that oasis of youth.

Let us run away from these insolent sights of youths and nurses.

Under thousands smiling faces of constellations and stars,

Walking On the trail of Venus listening to love songs and tales of heroes,

Perhaps we may found that fountain of youth and regain our juvenilities

And live those springs and summers that lie across these seas.

It may be we shall not return from this odyssey or find the spring

And live again those unlived days as I forebode,

But we shall see some sparkles of adventurous days we missed long ago.

Shared with One Stop Poetry.

Spring of youth

Staring at a blank paper

By Mory Keita

I stare at a blank paper spreading beneath my pen,

As I ponder upon some lines of little meaning.

Just beside my pen lies another blank paper,

Staring at me with tears as if imploring my mercy,

 Or Waiting for some transforming drops of ink.

I pity it much, for though I would like to fulfill its wish,

My head is as blank as its surface, maybe blanker.

I vainly try to write some lines as a sign of generosity,

But what should I write? How should I begin?

I am not T.S Eliot or a Shakespeare; I am no genius.

I cannot paint on it lines worthy of remembrance,

neither do I wish to abandon it like some worthless junk.

Should I ignore its pleads and shamefully bow my head?

Is it my fault if I cannot write without muse? I know not.

I am not a writer; neither do I intend to become one.

But, as long as I feel a pen in my hand, an inner voice murmurs,

 “You may not be Shakespeare or T.S Eliot or do not wish to be,

But you will always have something to write as long as you believe.”

Now I look at the blank paper beside my pen, still staring at me,

And say to myself “if I have nothing  worthy to write,

I shall write what comes to my mind as long as I breathe.”

Thus, I took my pen and began writing these first lines.

Staring at a blank paper

Hiroshima Today

By Mory Keita


In sky flew a bird-like object like falling star,

The children stood in owe contemplating it.

It was a bird,one they hadn’t seen before,

One which magic they hadn’t experienced yet.

They stood side by side, hands in hand smiling,

Smiling at the odd birds above their heads,

They pointed their fingers at the bird, jumping of joy.

How could they know why it flew in the sky?

They saw the bird dropping an egg-like object,

In their excitements,they jumped and jumped.

Few seconds after the bird-like object reached ground,

And a curtain of smoke and dust covered the visions.

In few seconds, their dreams were gone away,

Their homes and schools were destroyed in fire;

Their lives were taken in a war they had no part in.

What began as a peacefully day ended an atrocity,

Anything that flies isn’t indeed a bird.

What happened to theirs dreams? Why them?

Has mankind lost its humanity?

I would like to thank Sam Lui for reminding many others and myself about history.

i encourage you to check Sam's poem from which I got my inspiration.

Sam writes: August 6th is Hiroshima today, and marches across the world have signified this solemn occasion - commemorating the atrocities caused by the use of catastrophic nuclear weapons on Japan during World War II. Please take a moment to consider this: we are one human race, we share thoughts and feelings, dreams and desires. War is an evil. Together, we can stop the rise of nuclear weaponry. Spread peace, not destruction.
Add you plea at www.millionpleas.com.

Shared with one stop poetry.

Hiroshima Today

Carpe diem

By Mory Keita

When ye shall grow old from old ages,

In thirty falling seasons of leafy days,

Ye shall not be yerself as ye desire,

Under leaves yer soul shall grow old too:

In summer ye shall walk under falling leaves,

Seeking yer old self under breezy winds,

But ye shall not find muse in its beauty,

For yer summer days shall grow old too.

In winter ye shall walk under falling snow,

Ye shall be alone in cold days in a coat,

Alas! cold shall  whelm yer endurance,

For yer bones shall grow old of old days.

Beware of old ages, live yer youth in warmth,

For ye shall never live these days once more.


Modern Version  ( i have been told that i am too much old-fashioned.)



When you will grow old from old ages,

In thirty falling seasons of leafy days,

You will not be yourself as you desire,

Under leaves your soul will grow old too:

In summer you will walk under falling leaves,

Seeking your old self under breezy winds,

But you will not find muse in its beauty,

For your summers days will grow old too.

In winter you will walk under falling snow,

You shall be alone in cold days with a coat,

Alas! Cold shall over power your endurance,

For your bones will grow old of old days.

Beware of old ages, live your youth under sun,

You will never live these seasons once more.

Carpe diem

I Missed His Book , But I Read His Name

A parody of John Updike's poem I Missed His Book, But I Read His Name By Mory Keita

Though author are a savage people

To be guillotined if you can,

I’d like to spare the Indian,

M. Anantanarayanan.

I picture him as short and cherry.

We’d meet, perhaps, in Bombay.

I’d yell, with clumsy elan,

“Ah, Antanarayanan --

I’ve heard of you, the Bounty hunter once bade

denars on your head, a

Bountiful sum and renown. “

And Anantanarayanan

Would bride me with a novel

And sign his name – that unmelodious span

Of ‘a’s and ‘n’s more lovely than

‘In xanadu, Kuban khan smoking pipe”--

Aloud to me all season. I plan

Henceforth to spare the life

Of Anantanarayanan----

M.Anantanarayanan.

Below is the original poem by the great John Updike.

I Missed His Book But I Read His Name by John Updike

Though authors are a dreadful clan
To be avoided if you can,
I'd like to meet the Indian,
M. Anantanarayanan.

I picture him as short and tan.
We'd meet, perhaps, in Hindustan.
I'd say, with admirable elan ,
"Ah, Anantanarayanan --

I've heard of you. The Times once ran
A notice on your novel, an
Unusual tale of God and Man."
And Anantanarayanan

would seat me on a lush divan
and read his name -- that sumptuous span
of 'a's and 'n's more lovely than
"In Xanadu did Kubla Khan" --

Aloud to me all day. I plan
Henceforth to be an ardent fan
of Anantanarayanan --
M. Anantanarayanan.

Note: This poem is one of my favorites. i like it so much that i sometime recite it in bed. it happens that updide didn't intend to write this poem to the more know M.Anantanarayanan but another person with the same name
.
Shared with the One Stop Poetry community.

I Missed His Book , But I Read His Name

The road ahead

                                                        By Mory Keita

I feel life in my skin and heart,

I feel its winds blowing north, south, west and east,

I feel its sorrow consuming my heart, darkening my soul.

I see life, atop mountains and down valleys,

I see its tears falling down valleys like a river,

I see its roads through the steps of ancients and stories,

I see its ladder spreading from earth to heavens.

Knowing the road ahead shivers my heart,

I know it will be hard and steep to climb,

I know my destination is far and uncertain,

But I shall not give up; I shall climb and climb,

I shall advance against the wind, I shall withstand the sorrow.

For I know that I am destined to greatness,

I know that I will achieve my full potential.

I believe that if the lord, the great architect of

The universe wishes, I shall achieve my goal.              

The road ahead