Poet in Heaven
Poet.. " God, I can't get motivated to write here."
GOD.. " Not enough angst, emotional torment, and social injustice ? "
Poet.. " Yea, I guess you're right..How did you know ? "
GOD.. " I know everything..remember ? "Why can't you write about the perfect tranquility..the total security..the un abounding love that surrounds you ?
Poet.. I did, God, but after a few pieces it felt like I was saying the same thing over and over. You know what I mean ?
GOD.." Yes, complete oneness with the Universe can be monotonous, I suppose, especially to a poet who thrives off chaos, and deep emotional confusion. " What do you suggest I do ?
Poet.. " God, please don't get me wrong. " " I love Heaven, it's so serene, so flawless, so perfect..maybe that's my problem. " It's too perfect. "
GOD.. " Too perfect, huh ? " I remember your writings young man, and they always spoke of finding the perfect love, the perfect feeling of belonging, the perfect world, where there was no war, no children starving, no senseless deaths, no homeless." " As I recall, you wrote about a place like my kingdom." Are you missing all those things ? "
Poet..No..No..No, I didn't mean to make you think I'm not grateful." " Please, Lord, I wouldn't want to be in that other place. "
GOD.."Young man, do you miss having a broken heart ?" " Do you miss war and greed ? " Are these the things that made you a poet ? " "Does my Kingdom disappoint you ? " " Have I not taken all your wishes you wrote about, and given you all you wrote of ? "
Poet.." God, I guess maybe I thought you might at least have thunderstorms." " I know that seems minor, but I always loved storms.
GOD.." Storms ?" " This is why you are discontent ? " "Young man, watch the sky's overhead.
 In an instant the darkest clouds the poet had ever seen began to form in the distance. The wind started to pick up strength. The rumble that rolled across the nearby mountains sounded ominous. Suddenly, lightening like the poet had never witnessed exploded from the skys and struck the trees that covered the mountain side, ripping them apart. Rain started to pound the Heaven's like small cannonballs, that actually hurt the skin as they fell in wave's of blinding sheets of water. The poet looked at God, as He stood there, like it was a bright sunny day. The storm grew in such strength the poet dropped to his knees.
Poet.." Dear Lord, I was wrong." " Please make it stop."
Just as suddenly as it had started, it ended. The dark and foreboding clouds vanished, and was replaced with a beautiful warm sun. The poet picked up the little bag he carried with him..a bag that held all his materials to write. He turned, and started walking towards the mountains.
GOD.." Where are you going my poet son ?
Poet.. " If it's ok with you , God, I'm going to the edge of the mountain, and write about the peaceful beauty of the river that runs at it's base. "
GOD..Bring back to me your writing young man." "That spot has always been a favorite of mine, especially after a good thunderstorm." 


© 2008 Rain

penname   penname wrote
on 1/24/2009 8:30:42 PM
where do you get this stuff. it's great

penname   penname wrote
on 1/24/2009 8:30:33 PM
the ending superb- the opening and all in between was invigorating- and i certainly could visualize this very well. blunt and poignant-amazing.

Short Story
writing Rain
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Many great writers seem to have had a self-destructive personality, or at best needed turmoil or angst to create. I just wondered what these type writers would think in a perfect world.
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