A free write in response to the prompt Jangle. To help me make some interesting poetry, perhaps?
The sound of bells as he swaggers through the crowded street. Obnoxiously tied to his belt, everyone must hear his arrival. Some don’t care, their heads don’t turn and they carry on with their business. He has no time or patience for these people. Others glance quickly, afraid of catching his eye. They’re curious but they aren’t brave, or perhaps they’re just cautious. They don’t know the type of man that he is, lacking in their intuition and observation, so they can’t figure it out. He chuckles at these people. It must be interesting to live so humbly, he thinks. Others sneer and frown. How pretentious, they think. I despise people like him. I’ve never met him, never understood his reasonings, and I don’t want to. He should keep to himself, no one cares that he shouts in their faces. They’re wrong, some people do care, and he laughs at the ones who sneer at him. Others are awestruck by the confident sway of his shoulders, the strength in his stride, the smile in his eyes, a smile that shows he knows he commands, not that he is friendly. They see that he is an inward kind of fellow, so focused on himself, but they’re still so impressed. To be so confident in one’s self… What’s it like to not have doubt? A wonderful feeling, they presume. Internally the man cries for these people for he knows them best, understands the doubt that sometimes swallows them, the stutter when you try to start but aren’t sure how. Teetering on the edge, waiting for a little push. Almost, but not quite enough inner strength. He hates that feeling, so he hides it, hides it oh so well behind cheeky grins at women and taunts at men. Know that I’m less feeble than you, his gaze says, know that I climbed a little higher, even if some days I am once again at the bottom. Even if I’m not always there, know that I once was. People believe him, some respect, some do not. Some try to plead for his methods. How do you do it, good sir? They ask. He replies, it’s a secret a man can only find on his own. He straps bells to his belt and he strides through crowds demanding their attention, fearing their gaze but begging for it none the less.