Introduction to Creative Writing
Fall 2019 | Professor Lucien Meadows
For this course, I chose a fictional short story entitled "Little Gods" and an ekphrastic poem called "Nocturne in Black and Gold--The Falling Rocket." Inspired by the painting of the same name by James Whistler. I chose these works less for their quality or my confidence in how my audience may receive them. Rather, I chose these works because they stretched my "creative writing muscles." It had been since before college that I had written in the genre, these works are the result of my happy stumbling back. To read "Little Gods" click on the PDF below. To read the ekphrastic poem scroll down. If you're interested in reading more poetry click here.
Little Gods
Nocturne in Gold
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The world is mutilated in noxious gas. The way dignity is stripped away, in how the thin membrane of souls is flayed by lies and laws. Lying in a little bit of darkness, alone, I wait for a courageous spark of Hope to manifest.
Closest, is Jacob Whistler’s Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket. Developed in deep storm clouds, velvet waters, and the indulgent mix of black on black in the foreground. Pockets of light are mixed in, I imagine smoke there, lightening here, sparks or stars, rocket dust, or heaven is falling from the sky. Tears to a hidden perfection, not grasped. Closer, a crescent smudge of pollen yellow—a beach, or reflected moon-rock. A burnished figure sits. Does the observer feel catastrophe? Does she see tragedy? Her own coming calamity?
I wonder if you know the concept of Kintsugi.
It’s the Japanese way of repairing the cracks of old pottery with gold.
Maybe the gold on the horizon, flecks in the sky are remnants of healing.
But what crucible of fear, of fire, of blood, can create such a rich filament?
Perhaps the observer, the lone figure knows better. Perhaps beauty and the better things of this world are not always the lessons of horror. Gifts from suffering. But an unknown element, slowly breaching the night, brightness suffusing chaos.
A lone figure sits in the darkness, patiently expecting a golden dawn.
For The Potter to furnish a broken world in Gold.
