Wednesday, February 2, 2011

A Wedding In Detroit



"I bring bricks together," her father liked to joke,

And indeed he did,

Baking them in an oven like bread--

But instead of loaves rising,

There were buildings instead--

And streets laid red and endless under boots, wheels and hooves.



He was a practical man and made a practical match for his only girl.

Everyone agreed he had a gift for picturing how things would fit together,

And he had built a world solid sturdy and strong--

She was never one who would say her father was ever mistaken or wrong,

And so she

Stole a moment to say her regrets to her real love,

A downstairs maid named Brigit--

Then got into the carriage

And smiled resolute and odd all through the jolting ride

Down the hard bricks

To the house of God.

_________

for magpie 51

25 comments:

Sherry Blue Sky said...

What a cool story to come out of the prompt! Good work! Love the idea of buildings rising instead of bread.........and the "streets laid red and endless under boots, wheels and hooves". Poignant, her saying her regrets to her love and smiling "resolute and odd" all the way to the church. You place the poem in olden times very cleverly, too.

Caty said...

this created a very vivid image for me...almost like I was watching it on the tv. Loved the story!

G-Man said...

Shaysie...
What a great story!!
(I loved your One-Shot as well!)

Cloudia said...

Aloha from Honolulu
Comfort Spiral

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hedgewitch said...

Breaking the out of the predetermined role is so hard...I could read your stories for hours, the characters are so real, more so than many I've actually met--maybe because you let us see inside them so clearly.

Shadow said...

mmm, glad those times of match-making are over. or are they?

Lisa said...

See? Now I got my story and can go to bed.

Thank you - YAY YOU!! :D

ps: i showed my son your poem about the resentful chicken and also the one about dr. phil. the kid came with me to spoken word last time and he doesn't 'quite' know it yet but he's going to be shoving some words together for next time. i think your poetry could push him right over the edge into the life of the mad poet. i'll keep you informed. thanks again!
xx

Ami Mattison said...

Who knew that you could write such a clever and imaginative story from that picture prompt?! But then, I guess I should never doubt you and your brilliance. Love the description of the father in particular--great characterization. Fine writing!

Susannah said...

So good! I love it.

Lynn said...

These descriptive words tell a big story. :)

Lulú said...

The image of the bricks and the story work beautifully together. Nicely done, Chica! xo

judyblackcloud said...

Beautiful story from a vivid picture. The idea of bricks compared to bread was unexpected but so perfect.

Daryl said...

Ah well .. there are so many things I could say about the church ... love they way you weave your words

Tess Kincaid said...

A bit of Eliza Doolittle and Fiddler on the Roof spun into your magic.

Raven said...

That is utterly fantastic! Great take on the prompt!

Mama Zen said...

The ending is bleak. Perfect.

Jannie Funster said...

I LOVE how your font is all brick-colored. Nice touch!

Ahh lovely Brigit, methinks she will be the maid who moves with the daughter to the betrothed's sturdy strong new home. :)

xoxo

signed...bkm said...

I love the description of your father also, baking bricks...constructing buildings and lives....and then giving them away....great write..bkm

Joanna Jenkins said...

Oaky, that was very cleaver.
xo jj

moondustwriter said...

Interesting what was cooked in that oven by the father
I'm wondering how her heart survived...

Brian Miller said...

life becomes very interesting when your bricks are laid by another...

TALON said...

What a fabulous tale, Shay. As always, I love your writing.

Lena said...

I loved this fresh approach to the old bricks prompt. A sweet read!

Helen said...

Could I have been a matched bride in another life ... your Tale resonated with me! Your writing always does. I have been on the road since January 25th and not home until the 9th ... show me the way to go home ....

Carrie Burtt said...

You must have a magic pen Shay....or magic fingers on the keyboard....love the image of buildings rising like bread....this is a tale that i am sure happened somewhere in time!
:-)