{Denise gracefully hosts Six Sentence Stories, where writers unleash their magic under one simple rule: in no more or no less than 6 sentences.
This week’s prompt word is : MESS }
Leave My Black Alone
Leave my black alone;
shades of charcoal, ebony, onyx are not for mourning – its purpose is at sea.
Into the ocean of hopes (sunk), courtesy (sunk), trust (sunk), certainties (sunk), pride (sunk), dreams (barely afloat).
Leave my black alone;
my vantablack, the blackest shade, is not for attending that one day when all the days before you could not be tended – its purpose is at the edge of a mountain peak.
Cared, understood, felt, sympathized, empathized, diagnosed, undisclosed, veiled, sacred… am I a victim of my own compassion, compass broken (the only path), solitary winds carry me, sing to me.
Words (of a mother) to be Simple, Honest, Kind are forgotten – hands shaken (firmly) are an insanitary inconvenience – eyes met are avoided to protect the mess (you are not alone) behind the façade; yet, you insist on claiming my black.
Leave my black alone;
neither yours to claim, nor mine, its purpose is at heavy clouds – for it is the amalgamation of hopes and dreams, of verses unwritten and things unseen, of feelings deleted in ink depleted…
so, please… leave my black alone.
BY THE COMPANY OF WARRIORS I KEEP
Spira / Nick © January 2023
inSPIRAtion 
You’ve got your own “Black” album (sans snake) going on here, Nick. But not. Heavily laden with implication, alternate connotation, it is a piece I will re-read (again)
The very last sentence, beyond doubt, had the most impact for me. Commanding yet containing an echo of gentle imploring.
(fine pairing/compliment, words/music)
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“My own Black”…high praise, Denise.
Trust me when I say, that I am re-reading it, too.
And each time, I who wrote it, find new threads woven.
It was written by itself, forcing the black ink out of the pen, demanding its blackness to be brought to light.
And upon reading your comment, I am glad I did not resist ; and fortunate to be able to harbor my black sailed ship at the Six Haven you provide.
Music…always were the one to listen; Thank you, Denise.
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The phrase “compass broken” sounds like a good description for a problem many of us face. The solution might be to get a new compass, if one can find one nowadays when Google seems to have all the answers except where to go. Best wishes!
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Compassion without a compass remains a passion. As you said…seems to have the answers.
Thank you, Frank.
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Very evocative write Spira.
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Thank you, Sadje ; I really appreciate it.
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You’re welcome
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With so much sunk, i hope what still floats holds you up.
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Worry not, dear Mimi; it does.
And haven’t you noticed how I sign my posts: By The Company Of Warriors I Keep. When the occasion arises, then we find a way to be there for eachother; no one is left alone with the waves.
Thank you, kind Mimi.
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Have no fear, Nick; I wouldn’t dream of messing with your black (ink, mark, stamp, sign, tattoo). It’s damn near perfect as it is. 💫
These words looked into my eyes and spoke directly to me: “am I a victim of my own compassion, compass broken (the only path), solitary winds carry me, sing to me.”
Your needs may be simple (leave my black alone) but you are a complicated man who is clearly afloat.
Your choice of video blew off the top of my head. 🤯
The warrior is in the house; leave his black alone!
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You can mess anytime you want with my black, cara mia; I can only imagine the wonders out of that mess with a Storyteller of your caliber and cuore!
You read fiercely between/through the lines (is there any other way? Nope, not for an artist)
Complicated…I cannot tell if I am…simple, honest, kind, I try…but your words of being afloat resonate deeply…as I see myself often as a driftwood of a man.
I am so glad you loved that cover of Simple Man; I was almost ready to use the LS original but man, do they pour soul in their version! And if something is done with soul, I am all for it!
A warrior is only as good as the person next to him, fighting in life’s battlefield…hence, By the company I keep.
Sembra di aver trovato le parole, cara mia.
Grazie mille, Nancy💫
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Oh, my dear boy – if you cannot tell if you are complicated then you most certainly are ❣️
Le parole mi trovano; sono solo il messaggero. ✍🏻
Sei il benvenuto, caro 🕊️
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Nick, you just wrote the song of the last pirate, the ballad of the stranded astronaut, the whistle of the trapped mountaineer, the sighing of the speared mermaid, the beseeching howl of a poet with spilled guts…
… and all in the blackest ink at your disposal!
The Whatsoever which guided your hand (to lead even yourself to reread and reread and reread what you wrote, has magical powers which we may never come to within a single beat of a hummingbird’s wing to understand (at least not in this life).
If warriors be there at your side, it is because of your own warrior spirit that they arrive.
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Mate…were you conspiring with the others commenting at this Black to render me completely and utterly unable to find words expressing the gratitude?!
Ford, you WMSOP (WordMagicianSon OfaPen)…the first sentence of your comment just reminded me why I love your writing…despite you being an @%$ for leaving me alone to “guard” the SSC&B spirits!
And as if that wasn’t enough, here comes 2 and 3…frickin ‘el!!
“…may never come to within a single beat of a hummingbird’s wing…”, so true, my dear Mage.
And your conclusion… Yes, that is what they tell me…That and their, beyond any doubt, certainty that I would do the same for them.
Thank you is not enough,Ford, you…(enter affectionate profanity)😁
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Lol @ WMSOP! 😂
I’m sure it wasn’t such a hard job guarding the SSC&B spirits for a few weeks on your own, ay? 🍷🍸🍺🍻🥂
entering affectionate profanity now: SOAMSB (SonOfAMotherSufferin’Biscuit) 😋😀
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The song of an artists lament. Striving perhaps, perhaps not, for perfection itself, but always to realize our creations in the best way possible, and striving and striving and striving, sensitive to the world and its shortcomings perhaps mirroring our own………but we keep trying…….and one day…….perhaps……attain peace. You are a simple complicated soul, Nick.
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(…and as I am trying to compose myself and the humidity of my eyes, here comes Len with the knock out!)
What can I say in response to you, Len?
Our eyes are not met when we talk, our hands are not greeting us when we meet…yet, one more soul has looked beyond the drops of this ink.
Striving not for perfection, as your insight sensed…but for meaningful, genuine imperfection.
The tagline of my blog reads:
Echoes from a voice yet to be heard.
It seems though, that it is. Heard.
Your last sentence Len…🙏🏼
If Fates had some sense of decent humor, then they would grand me some lottery … and then I would gather from the four corners of the world you, Ford, Nancy, Bruce, Mimi, Frank, Sadje, Chris, Denise and the rest who may visit this Black/or have visited in the past…and we will sail aboard The Imperfect, the black sailed ship…to an island, where we can listen to the most beautiful music in the universe…the song of the sea…sit around the firepit, eat, drink, discuss, laugh, cry, dream…That I would do.
Thank you, Len.
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holy shit!:
a) the dawning appreciation of a Six that, aside from the more conventional points of appeal, presents itself to the Reader as written in black ink on ebony paper. (A touch of rhetorical Hawking Radiation)… aka good on whatever cognitive-emotional level the Reader brings to the LED banquet
2) Ford’s (in particular) and the other (in addition) comment/apprisal left me looking at the pile of song links to ‘Black’ music from the Stones to AC/DC and thinking… the beauty part of this here Six here, is that it is one of those stories possessed of the quality, (that we, all of us, seek when putting words into the world), to resonant with all Readers.
cool
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(* and the barrage of commentilary continues!)
And don’t forget the blackest album by Metallica (or else you will disappoint someone you do not want to)🙂
Thank you, Clark.
You arrived at this ship to find me out of words to properly respond…
…All I can say is,
The Imperfect sets sail at 3.30 a.m. – come aboard.
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Wow! I am transported by your poetry, Nick! “solitary winds carry me, sing to me.” Winds that carry you in an unknown voyage into the “black” and sing to you like sirens amid dangerous rocks and send you into the arms of your mates who understand the paradoxical beauty and terror and the pain — these winds stir the inky inspiration that we have come to recognize through your words, Nick, as authentic and powerful and chaotic as the waves that the wind drives and the sirens inhabit. May the Maker of the seas be for you as He was for Dante with his mates, Virgil and Bernard of Clairvaux and the rest, the sublime peace that calms every tempest.
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Dora!
Have you no mercy?😊
What a barrage of incredible comments this “Black” story attracted!
“…the inky inspiration that we have come to recognize through your words, Nick, as authentic and powerful and chaotic as the waves that the wind drives and the sirens inhabit.”… double wow!!
I am humbled and grateful.
And your wish, Dora!
Amen to that.
Thank you more than words can say, Dora.
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The Muse sometimes prefers the complexity of black, above all other single colors. Take her hand (as you’ve done here) and follow where she leads.
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I have done so, Liz. And regretted not a moment. And with all your encouragement I will continue to do so.
Thank you, Liz.
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You’re welcome!
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🚢🖤
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⛵🖤
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“of feelings deleted in ink depleted…” fantastic phrasing, Nick
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It almost wrote itself , Nicole.
Thank you.
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To walk parallel paths that will eventually meet. Be fearless, and keep your black dry.
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Aye. I shall try.
For it is in darkness, light can be found and kept.
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