Lurid can symbolize the translucent shade of autumn leaves, its gold, but it can also fade into a dying pale-yellow.
The morning mist enveloped autumn’s shades
And auburn, crimson, scarlet –
They all paled
And blended into lurid,
The yellow pale.
Beneath the nascent sky.
If lurid mushrooms come your way,
They’re good and healthy and they should stay
For supper, if they may.
But bright ones, picked in Autumn…
Stay away!
Or you own skin will turn lurid…
One day.
I let them fly,
Between the Autumn’s wings,
My dreams,
Like lurid ghosts amid the yellow leaves.
Some words still carry an emotional burden, like lurid.
Used in 17th century to describe stages of bruising and corpses, lurid sipped into nature: lifeless, pale, yellowish leaves of Autumn… Then it floated to ghastly light… And, finally, made the shocking news:
The ghastly, lurid light that covered the Afghan earth when Taliban destroyed the Bamiyan Buddhas in March 2001.
I wrote about it in my book Silent Heroes, When Love and Values Are Worth Fighting for.
Lurid originates in Latin luridus, yet it was only after the 16th century that it was extensively used in English.
On our travels to Transylvania’s Corvin Castle my feet followed timeworn steps along a spiral staircase. I was looking forward to a view of the moat and the evergreen forests that shield this medieval fortress.
There was no banister to rest my hand on as I climbed the stairs. There were only the ancient stone blocks building to a tower as wide as my elbows and as cold to touch as the draft hissing from above. Before I knew it I was past the point of no return. The ending not in sight yet and the departure point long lost, I felt suspended in time and space. Anything could have happened and no one would have known.
Only the cold draft whispered around me, and only my heavy breathing answered it. I blamed it, together with the dizzy spell that had blurred my vision, on the narrow steps curling in high increments.
Crawling on my hands and knees I emerged into a stony cell bathed in lurid light.
Not even the midday sun streaming through a slit in the stone could shake the uneasy feeling that followed me up there. A draft of wind whispered past my ears and hurried down the stairs and I felt like a prisoner swap had just taken place, with me the one to draw the short straw.
There are more short stories inspired by Transylvania’s history in my latest book:
I hope you enjoyed Lurid, Autumn’s Gold . You might also like to read:
Beautiful poem and terrible devastation. A shifting understanding of lurid.
Thank you so much for your kind words, Diana, and for stopping by. Between the colors of autumn, I think that lurid, that life-less yellow, always made me a bit sad. Now I understand why.
Very honest, very direct,truly stays on my mind
Thank you so much!
I always felt a negative touch, when I heard the word “lurid”, but now your explanation really make me shiver! Beautiful, Patricia, and many thanks:)
Same shiver here, Martina 🙂
Glad you liked it. Thank you!! 🙂
:):)
I’ve learned a new word today. I liked a lot the poem of the mushrooms. (good to know, btw 🙂 ). But I also enjoyed the creepy feeling that your description of Corvin Castle’s dungeon, gave me. Beautifully written.
I had fun writing the little mushroom poem.
So glad that you enjoyed the dungeon story, Jo! 🙂
Joy and fear in a single post. 🙂 Thank you for this whirlwind of emotions.
Autumn is more fierce than we give it credit 🙂
Thank you so much, Jo!
Well, I can see that. It rained all day here. 🙂
So I’ve heard. No more 27 degrees Celsius in Bucharest in November.
Nope! But today is the first awful day. Warm weather until mid-November is quite something.
Such pleasant poems to read 🙂 Lovely 🙂
Thank you very much! 🙂
I like the way you define lurid. Not as a dictionary, rather with stories. Maggie
Oh, I am happy you took notice, Maggie 🙂
Much more fun.
You capture amazing shots with your camera. I try a bit with words 😉
Thanks so much for sharing this diverse look at a word I never gave much thought to Patricia. I truly enjoyed the storytelling qualities depicted in your poem. Have an awe-inspiring day my friend!
I am so glad you enjoyed them, Kym 🙂 I had a lot of fun writing them.
Wishing you a wonderful day too!
what a strange sensation you felt as you climbed those steps…
Maybe it was low blood sugar – but that would be such a dull way to remember that moment 🙂
I’m sure you won’t soon forget it…
Beautiful images and poetry!
Thank you, Vanya!
Beautiful. I miss the changing colors of Autumn. I could feel the walls closing in as you climbed the stairs to the tower – chilling.
I know how you feel, Judy. Autumns here in South Africa don’t have such a wide palette of colors either. And to top it all, it’s spring now 🙂
Glad the tale grabbed you. Thank you for sharing 🙂
Best wishes.
This is so haunting, Patricia. I didn’t know that the word lurid has such a vast history. I love your poetry and also the account of climbing those stairs. I guess lurid is what we make of it. The images convey your thoughts wonderfully. :-).
Hi Patricia! This was a new word for me. I loved the poems and the prose fragments you shared to describe the different meanings of the word.
So happy to hear that you enjoyed the stories, Blanca 🙂
Gorgeous images, Patricia – and perfect poetry and prose. Toni x
Thank you, Toni. 🙂
Oh my. The poem, divine. The story scary. And you were alone? I wouldn’t have gone that far up. But I’m a scaredy cat, you see. You are most certainly not. Good for you. Thanks for the story. xoxo
Sometimes our steps take us places, without us noticing – until we’re there!
Thank you for visiting, Selma 🙂