Cascade – definition: a steep usually small waterfall – a downward flow of something
I have always found flowing water an irresistible draw. Standing on a bridge I find myself leaning forward, wanting to flow with the river or stream. However, waterfalls are my true love. The sight of gallons of water falling, the sound of it pounding on rock and the feeling of tiny pinpricks of icy water touching my skin, is magical. I would like to share a poem I wrote, which is about Victoria Falls and my wish to return there some day.
Sluice – definition: 1) an artificial passage for water with a gate for controlling its flow; 2) a channel that carries off surplus water; 3) a long sloping trough (as for floating logs to a sawmill)
English: Sluice (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
What an amazing difference between these two water courses. One leaves us with thoughts of stale smelly water while the other is a thing of ingenuity and beauty. Both are methods of manipulating the flow of water to the human desire but the first is more of a practical bare bones nature compared to the ethestically pleasing structure in Italy.
This is a perfect example of how we can manipulate our words to give our readers a particular vision or image. As I looked at the first sluice I thought – dirty, smelly, slime, old, crumbling, ugly, decrepit. Whilst the second – bright, shiny, ingenious, metal, esthetically pleasing.
See this re-blogged post about the power of words.
Bayou – definition: a marshy or slowly flowing body of water (as a stream on inlet), especially in the southeast USA.
There’s something about a bayou that shrouds it in mystery. Maybe it is the mists floating just above the surface, the eerie stillness or the sudden lash of a crocodile’s tail as it submerges into the still water. Contorted tree roots, hanging boughs and moss covered trunks conceal creatures and structures. Here nature fights for survival against man’s invasion. Even when parts of its area are claimed by human development, nature shows her power and displeasure. Floods and animal ‘invasions’ are common. Let’s face it marshy land isn’t really a suitable base to build on and displaced wildlife has to go somewhere!
The word inspired me to write this poem – why not share one of your own?
This word was just too good not to use as a prompt. Can you share yours?
It started with a slight itch on my wrist, one of those persistent itches that become so annoying. Apart from a slight redness, my skin did not show any signs of irritation, even under close scrutiny. After several days, my constant scratching had left deep tracks where my nails dug into the flesh. Even applying lotion after lotion didn’t end the relentless itching. I was beginning to lose my mind with the consistent nuisance, day and night, night and day. Another night of disturbed sleep, in which I had resorted to gnawing at my wrist was the final straw.
Stumbling to the bathroom I squinted as the light burst into life flooding the room and making me squint. As my eyes adjusted I glimpsed at my wrist, there I saw a huge bulging blister. It was so big the layer of skin containing the liquid was transparent. Inside was a pale yellow fluid. The skin around this enormous phlyctena was an angry red. The itching was beyond anything prior to this moment. It would surely drive me mad.
Well enough was enough, I’d burst the horrible thing and be done with it. I sterilized a pin with a lit match and grabbed a tube of antibiotic cream. Holding my wrist over the sink with the pustule facing downward I took a deep breath and pierced deeply into it. At first the skin resisted then the sharp point entered the bulbous form. A trickle of liquid seeped out at first then as I withdrew the pin the trickle increased slightly. It would take too long to drain the blister that way so I pierced it several more times. The viscous liquid oozed from the holes and dropped into the sink, drop after drop. As I watched something twitched inside the pustule. Now I was seriously grossed out. Had something been living under my skin?
Whatever it was I wanted it out of there. With no thought of the pain that would surely follow I snipped the blister with a pair of scissors. There squirming in the liquid was a tiny maggot. I very nearly threw up. Using the tips of the scissors I managed to flick the maggot into the sink. It wiggled and twisted. I gulped air as my vision became blurred. Don’t pass out now, make sure there aren’t any others in there. Poking the loose skin of the empty blister I peered into it hoping not to find any other maggots. No more thank goodness.
I held my wrist under the tap with the hottest water I could bare running. My skin turned red as the scalding water seared onto the exposed flesh where the blister had been. Dapping the area with a soft towel tiny spots of blood began to appear. I would let it bleed for a while then apply the antibiotic cream. A trip to the emergency room was in order just to make sure there were no more maggots. May be I should have kept the horrid thing so the doctor could see but it was long gone down the drain. At least the itching had stopped.