Writing exercise based on a poem

THE TREASURE OF THE WISE MAN

 James Whitcomb Riley (1849–1916)

O the night was dark and the night was late,
And the robbers came to rob him;
And they picked the locks of his palace-gate,
The robbers that came to rob him—
They picked the locks of his palace-gate,
Seized his jewels and gems of state,
His coffers of gold and his priceless plate,—
The robbers that came to rob him.

But loud laughed he in the morning red!—
For of what had the robbers robbed him?—
Ho! hidden safe, as he slept in bed,
When the robbers came to rob him,—
They robbed him not of a golden shred
Of the childish dreams in his wise old head—
"And they're welcome to all things else," he said,
When the robbers came to rob him.

 

 

 

STATEMENTS

 

A WINDOW 

I saw them sneaking up in the distance - not a lot of distance though. I heard footfall and suddenly reflected them in the light of their lantern. Four hooded figures. ...Not a lot of wind that night. I wished I were not bolted so completely. I could have rattled myself or set an old glass loose, to notify the master. Yes, I am capable of that.
There’s plenty of rosebush outside, close to my feet. One of the men minded it before moving on. He looked at the roses. I looked at him looking at himself into me as they quickly advanced towards the office door. 

 

A ROSEBUSH  

The night speaks evermore clearly than the day. One could have sensed something in the air that night. But what is one to make of such things, you might ask. What is one to do? How does one prepare for that which in itself is in the making? Things always are in the making. 

Us tree folks, we doubt less. We trust more. We Know - that’s all we can tell you. That’s why you find comfort in us, and that’s also why you fear us. 

 

THE LOCK

 I am big, strong, well kempt, well respected yet many eyes glance me with a desire startlingly more powerful than my mechanism - the desire to undo me. To beat me without breaking me somehow.
The heat of it must be a torment I suppose, but he bore it. He housed it in his soul, fed it on his grit and his companions prevailed that night. Yea, you can put it that way. 

I was outwitted but unharmed. 

 

THE TREASURE

We move around an awful lot. We read minds, we foretell.
It makes no difference whether you obtain us lawfully or unlawfully. Neither your endeavour nor your laws have much to do with us. It’s never really about us. Not even when you like to believe it is. 

Our master The Overseer cared for us without bother. This demeanour seems to have brought him under harsh scrutiny at the moment but his innocence will shine. We’ll return to him soon after.

 

THE PALACE WALL

This is no palace. This is a mansion. People who had never seen a property of this kind began to call it a palace right from the day the first brick was laid. (I was raised along with the house, not before.) It’s quite simple: every house larger, warmer and sturdier than theirs is palatial to them. 

I am not telling tall tales. I can see. I can hear people talk - all sorts of people, mostly the sort who can’t tell a mansion from a manor nor a manor from a palace.
Anyway, they didn’t climb me that night. They entered like gentlemen, through the gates. With extreme stealth, I must add.