Daisy

(It’s not a concert, it’s not a nightclub, it’s the 19^th century, but that day of the poetry recital did have a spiritual experience for Susan, which lasted a lifetime.)

(This is part of a chapter from a book. Excerpts of the book have already been adapted for short stories. This is a chapter with the underlying theme of karma “The law of growth” – Daisy the dog that inspired Denise with her writings, after the cataclysmic failures of her lovers.)

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As she tore up the parchment papers, Denise’s manuscripts of poetry that day, Susan was destroying literature for the benefit of future humankind, like a feminine Adam turning her back and preventing the fruits and seed of the apple from the tree of knowledge, Denise’s unique prose would never be shared for the future literary appreciation of humankind forever.

Susan was destroying the equivalent of the base creative AI program of poetry, as the scraps of the parchment paper, the lines of ballad stanzas, and slant rhymes, the use of trimeter, and tetrameters piled up in the container, then lit with a flame, and as the parchment flared, the flames blackened the penned lines, and crumpled the paper into a black charred mess, never to be read, never to be printed, never to be shared by readers forever.

Susan was destroying a private written secret of their tempestuous love affair, but at a cost of generations of poetry lovers, it was like obliterating Shakespeare’s words from the English language, her act of self-protection was complete as she stared at the charred remains of Denise’s writings gone from the sight and readership of an ignorant human literary consciousness forever. It was poignant, what started with fiery passions of desire was being destroyed by the same element – fire.

The thoughts in her head, as she stared down at the charred remains, were of the first time she met Denise that day in the church hall for a poetry reading. Denise was in white, as she always dressed throughout the years, that boyish innocent face, but with eyes that shone, those eyes had a life of their own, Denise’s eyes shone from the inside, something unique, the spiritual essence of her being, her recital came from a voice, but it also came directly from her soul. Those eyes were a warning to all that met her, of something special, a gift from the gods, a uniqueness of a human being, her poetry and writing, a gift to humankind. Like all unique creative gifts, it would not be realized for years to come after her death, but Susan was already censoring the amoral parts, that could lead to a tarnishing of Denise’s talents, her reputation, to a less appreciative audience, a moral judgmental audience to those God- given gifts.

Susan was mesmerized that day, that first sight of Denise, standing behind the lectern, reading the poetry, with that innocent altar boy appearance, but her reading was passionate and inflamed, the voiced words only enhanced the brightness in her eyes, whenever she looked towards the listening audience. She demanded attention.

The church meeting hall was in the backcountry of Massachusetts, the people of the Amherst town came from generations of puritan, God fearing folk, escaping with their views from the oppressive regimes of Europe. These people were the bedrock of the new world, in the early part of the 19^th century.

Susan waited for the audience to dissipate from the church hall, as she lingered behind to speak to the girl with the boyish looks, and sparkling eyes. Their eyes locked before Susan said quietly.

“You read with so much eloquence, so much passion.”

Denise looked at Susan with so much intent, taking in every minute detail, it was more than a stare, it was a confident searching look, her serious young face didn’t react to the compliment, only the sparkling eyes stared continuously searching out Susan’s, before Denise replied.

“Meet me here tomorrow at 10, we’ll go for a picnic by the river, it will be our secret.” Denise said without any emotion, but it felt to Susan like a command not to be refused.

Their love affair ignited the day of the picnic beside the quiet river, on that warm midsummer day. Two innocent young girls, carrying the picnic basket, and Daisy the Jack Russell terrier, Denise’s best friend and companion, the only silent, mute witness. The girls sat under the shade of the weeping willow, beside the calm waters of the river, Denise reciting words of poetry, of young innocent love, the desire of two young female hearts enraptured by the poetry, and the promise of love. Their young hearts were intoxicated by the words, the ambience, the shared passion for the poetic words of promised love, lingered in the air with the heat of the day.

When Denise slipped out of her loose-fitting dress, she wore no underwear, her elfin white figure glistened in the sunlight, as she lifted her head with laughter, and gay abandonment. She lifted her arms above her, which emphasized her boyish figure, small breasts, with boyish hips, it seemed that she was stretching to the skies reaching for the blue skies, as she then skipped and slowly, but tentatively entered the warm waters of the river, like a mercurial wild Pan, coaxing Susan to follow her lead. It was a sight of intoxication, and complete abandonment of morals and virtue, the sight sent Susan’s mind and senses to a place, never to recover, the sight of Denise’s nude lithe body disappearing into the waters of the river that day would be etched vividly in her memory, never to be blurred with time.

Susan started to unbutton her constrained clothes, seduced by the feline wild Pan, entering the inviting waters of the river. Susan’s womanly body was fuller, he young ripe body, fully bosomed, full hips, but as she looked down at the white bleached skin of her body, she enjoyed the sight, it wasn’t only intoxicating to her spirit, her nakedness, her mind inflamed with the thought of joining Denise in wild abandonment in the warm calm water.

The water temperature was cool against her warm skin, as she reached out with her arms to move into the invading waters that now caressed her nude body, the watery embrace soothed her body and mind. The contrast of their white bodies only partially visible above the water, both their arms paddling to keep their bodies afloat, and their heads above the waterline. The two girls moved towards each other, and it was only natural that they touched, and embraced. Their fingers touching tenderly, searching another body, tracing lines, feeling contours of another body, this was a new exploration of physicality, the young prepubescence of innocence, an intoxication of virginal senses.

The tension was broken as they both started to play in the river splashing water at each other, as Daisy the dog joined in the gaiety, chaotically barking, and jumping on the riverbank. Daisy wanted to join in the fun as well.

When they both came out of the warm waters, their nude bodies dripping droplets of water, their inhibitions had disappeared completely, they lay together on the grass, under the shade of the tree, and embraced, and kissed with passion, the vipers of their shared desires now released from its enslavery, and their minds were consumed, abandoned to one mutual shared desire – love making.

That day of uninhibited, unadulterated, yet innocent sharing of love, would haunt Susan for the rest of her life. Looking down at the sight of her arson, the sight of the charred black remains of Denise’s poetry writing was viewed with personal satisfaction of a secret never to be shared with any other living person, but at the same time, Denise’s poetry was inspired by that day of passion, she went on to write the most original work of art that the world will ever read, but now without the explicit verses of poetry, the shared love between Denise and Susan. It was a loss to humankind, but a protection of an amoral love affair that could never breach the future infamy of the dead poetess.

Susan later married Denise’s brother, Austin, and Susan became Denise’s sister-in-law. Susan and Austin moved to New York, shortly after their marriage. Denise stayed with her infirmed mother in Amherst, living a reclusive life. She became a prolific writer of poetry, but her writings were one of many hidden secrets of this unique artist, and she never published any of the thousands of poems and writings while she was alive. It remained an undiscovered work of art while Denise was alive.

Only, Daisy the dog watched keenly, as Denise scratched, and penned the masterclass in the art of poetry over her living years and tended to her infirmed mother, as life in the 19^th century passed by, and Denise always in white flowing frocks and dresses led a reclusive life, never traveling, never communicating, except writing with her unique style to her friends, and family. But her poetry was hidden from all.

Her mother died after suffering with ill health for decades, but with the care and dutiful attention of Denise. Some people will say that it was Daisy the dog’s death, that was the biggest loss to Denise, the townspeople only infrequent sight of Denise was her walking the Jack Russell terrier upon the hills or in the nearby woodlands. Some of the townspeople overheard her talking to Daisy, the dog was a constant loyal companion.

Denise died alone.

Susan on Denise’s death made to search throughout her room, her belongings, and found an opus mountain of poetry, years of writing by the recluse. After destroying any poems that would expose the truth of their amoral relationship, Susan sought out a publisher in New York, and started to publish some of Denise’s compositions of work.

History will record that her divorced husband, and Denise’s brother Austin, challenged his ex-wife Susan regarding her discovery, Denise’s poetry, and for many years Denise’s opus of work was published separately, by Susan, and Austin. Their personal and divisive handling of Denise’s complete works was handled by her sibling brother, and ex-lover in a contentious and malignant manner, like primitives fighting over the crown jewels of classic poetic literature.

It was only sixty years later after the death of Denise that the complete works were published together, and then the world could fully appreciate one of the world’s most famous poetesses, and her unique style and gift to the English language.

But the truth and inspiration of her body of work, their love affair, the epicentre of the Denise’s poetry died with both the demise of Denise, and later Susan, in those far away days of the 19^th century.