Monday, June 13, 2011

Read this beauty and listen to its rhythm

Stickeen always insisted on going with me, however wild the weather, gliding like a fox through dripping huckleberry bushes and thorny tangles of panax and rubus, scarce stirring their rain-laden leaves; wading and wallowing through snow, swimming icy streams, skipping over logs and rocks and the crevasses of glaciers with the patience and endurance of a determined mountaineer, never tiring or getting discouraged. ( 'Stickeen'- Frank Muir)

11 comments:

anuja said...

yes sir. writing is an art.

wordsmaid said...

Task:
That was about a dog. Now my dear kids, please create a new paragraph imitating the rhythm but changing the characters and action. And Post it.

Ekanthapadhikan said...

I remember standing at the balcony of a hotel in Coonnor on a cold winter night; a blanket around my shoulder, the soft wool of which giving a warm caress on my bare skin and watching the full moon peeping in and out of white suds of clouds over the rolling hills at a distance, silhouetted and veiled by icy mist, gliding down from, I don’t know where, to somewhere down the dark endless valley.

wordsmaid said...

Wonderful, Ekanthapadhikan. You are a writer.

pooja said...

The soft warm rays sneaked out from between thick,dark clouds,crept past them like a sly mouse and found its way through the misty morn;bounced off leaves sky-high,played with the rude,cold breeze,danced with droplets perched precariously on leaf tips,waded through the icy air,evaded all those who dared;found me in a sea of umberellas,cold and wet and then,the gentle sun rays touched my cheek with a warm kiss.

xena said...

On the extract :
I always envied writers for their floral vocabulary. They know the names of so many trees and flowers. My knowledge of plant kingdom has always remained a constant list of coconut trees,mango trees,date palms and plants bearing flowers like rose,jasmine,hibiscus and sunflower.

As for the task:

Susie liked sauntering through the woods early in the morning. She liked to watch the subtle change of the morning sky from a purple crack of a ribbon to a golden sea.As she trudged through the thicket, the dewy grasses kissed her bare ankles. Every whiff of air she took in tickled her nostrils with the smell of wild flowers.The birds sang in cahoots with the leaves in a quaint rhythm. A man could never have seduced her like the woods did.

pooja said...

That was lovely xena.enviable..........i agree with what u said abt the vocabulary of writers.it beats me how they do it.......

Paru said...

WHAT LANGUAGE IS THIS GUYS....................?

Paru said...

Xena....wonderful.keep it up.

wordsmaid said...

Xena, just follow the cadence of that sentence and create a long sentence.

pooja said...

This is just a guess on my part.I gave some thought to what Xena said abt the vocabulary of writers and it just occured to me.maybe,the names writers mention in their works are just the names of the local plants and flowers found out there.since we havent heard of them,they feel exotic.I dunno,it's just a guess... maybe I'm wrong....