|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Oct 11, 2010 1:30 pm
I figured since we dont have any place for our writing, then I would make one. So behold, the dark corner of many stores and resturant's, where frustrated an unrecognised writer's desperatly comprise works of word art that will never be seen by more then a select few. Now, I ask that we become part of that select few. Submit your works here, or links to them, and let the guild see your mad skillz 3nodding
Edit: At random times, I will likely select one of the story's or poem's or other writing works, and give the author an undesignated at this time sum of gold. So please, do share your works!
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 11, 2010 1:35 pm
Now for my first little submission, A poem inspired by Adam Phillips story, the YuYu, which unfortunatly seems to have dissapeared... anyway's, enjoy, or dont, whichever, my little composition, 'The Shadow People'
Deep in your sleep
a dream arrives,
within we creep
to take you
drag you down
right to our home,
enslave your mind
your ours to keep
without your youth
you lay down to die,
but you do not die
instead gain new health
your body has died
your soul yet lives,
changed in shape
you have become one
you have joined us,
joined us in body,
joined us in mind,
you are one of us
welcome to your family
your souls true desire,
now come with us
join with your brethren
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 25, 2010 7:12 pm
Why is it
that we can hear the birds chirp us 'good morning',
even through closed windows and doors?
Why is it
that, even though we shut ourselves away,
we still listen?
Are we all that much different from the birds?
We
are
all
animals.
So why is it
that we genuinely think nothing of it
when we place ourselves on such high thrones
while we ignore
but
still
listen? This has already been published on an online site in my name, so don't bother trying to steal it, whoever even thinks of doing such.
To everyone who wants to share their work with fellow teens, Teen Ink is a magazine that consists of fictional and non-fictional pieces, poetry, photography and other art that is sent out to millions of people just like you. Teenink.com is a place where you can submit that work.
It's a great place to experience talent.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Oct 31, 2010 11:47 pm
Wow I really like those pieces! Roughknite and I did a collaboration based off a short story I wrote awhile ago, maybe I'll dig it up and post it here when I get the chance!
|
|
|
|
|
|
Caelum Lupus Vice Captain
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jan 21, 2011 10:40 pm
 Heart of … Is it a heart of ice Or of iron will, When one can sit back And show no pain, Show no remorse When others do? It is a heart of loneliness Or a heart of concrete assurance, That allows no expression To show when Others are around- Or others are gone? A heart of what? Heart of Ice- Heart of Stone- Heartless- Or a heart so big… It hast to hide? Who can say? Whose to judge? Such of heart of …
I like the other poems.
Immortal Ryuu's was kind of like a welcome to the poetry thread. I liked it =^.^=
I have more that I shall post at a later date. I don't want to spamm you all at once =>.>=
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jan 21, 2011 11:21 pm
I enjoyed reading yours, Sam. And, perhaps a heart can be all those things at once, too?
I just wrote this one today... it's definitely largely different than what I usually write, reminded me of an angry poem, or a rap, more than anything, which even I hardly listen to, so, it was kinda strange to feel it pouring out of me. But still, I'm happy with the flow of it. So, here it is...
No Title
Get into the state of mind,
feel the people growin' blind.
End of story,
here it comes,
end of story,
beat the drums.
See their thoughts,
they bleed you in,
damn these robots with your skin,
take them,
treat them,
take them down,
take them,
beat them,
to the ground.
Get into my state of mind,
and if you watch you just may find,
broken boys and broken bones,
dying, for these cursed clones.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jan 21, 2011 11:37 pm
Music in general is basically giving rythm to poetry. {Whether good or bad quality I leave up to the opinion of others}
It is very nice. If it were an angry song it would be on my playlist for sure. =^.^= So I give it two thumbs up.
As for your comment on the heart thing. I agree with you.
My poems are usually inspired by someone, the vast majority of the time a story/role play character or a phrase a hear. In this case there was a song on the radio about a women with a heart of ice or something like that if I rememebr right.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jan 21, 2011 11:43 pm
That is quite true, though, in some ways, and some times, music and poetry have different qualities.
And thank you!
Ah, inspiration. Quite a strange thing to contemplate... can be brought upon by anything. Though it's a bit solipsistic to say, I find that I often inspire myself with my own cynical and bitter thoughts.
whee
And sometimes I'm not even inspired, I just write something. Which is what happened with the above.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jan 22, 2011 7:09 am
My mind and imagination are never off, always working always running. =^.^=
And you are very welcome. It was good.
And for today's poem-
Her Warm Embrace
To feel strong arms around her
That's what she wanted
To just be held and whispered to
"It's all right. It'll be okay."
She wasn't weak
She didn't need protection
Yet...she craved it all the same
Just to let her guard down
To be able to put down the barriers
To stop smiling for more than a few seconds
To let the tears fall if they must
Or to laugh because there were no tears to fall
A Warm Embrace
A heartbeat by her ear
Steady breathing soothing her
Gentle hand stroking her hair
She was always strong
It was her gift
Be strong-help others
Be their Warm Embrace
Where was her Warm Embrace?
Where was he?
A sigh fell from her as always
It was no where to be found
So she went on with her smile
Kept up her chin
Nodded her head
And continued waiting
Staying strong til she found it
Til she found Her
Warm Embrace
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Mar 01, 2011 7:20 pm
Reflection
I see you in the water you look like me
Obviously you are not what I thought you would be
Maybe you’re a magical deformity
Maybe your magic is a form of mimicry
Do you mimic people to feel as though you were free
You are cursed under the water forever and eternity
People walk by with little curiosity
They ultimately just let you be
You only see an opportunity
To get beyond this insanity
Stuck below a silvery surface
You know that you have a deeper purpose
Do not be sad
It is not all bad
You can see the world from a different view
You are one of very few
You are a creature of diversity
Someday whether it is far or near you will be set free
You are not what the others see
You can be whatever you want to be
Keep hope
Not every battle is an uphill slope
~Book-Junky~
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 02, 2011 1:32 pm
Here's a poem I wrote about civil war nurses. I hope you guys like it~
And to all the poems before this one are just so beautiful! I love them all! heart
Angels of the Battlefield
Angels of the Battlefield, of the Sleeping and the Gone.
Angels of the Maimed, the Shamed and the Fight.
Angels of Brothers, of the Separate and the Same.
Angels of the Cross, of the Red, and the White.
These Angels are not beautiful nor are they innocent nor do they have a frail kindness to them.
They are pretty in a 'my savior' sort of way, a glow of comfort in a world of bloody black.
Determined is what they are, the strongest of the strong.
They have no innocence, all of it stolen away by the anger and the hate, by the destruction and the broken families.
Washed away by the darkness and the screams, the never ending screams.
And they never stop, their faith placed in easing the pain, soothing the mad desperation for death.
Angels of the Battlefield, of the Broken and the Damned.
Angels of the Amputees, the Desperate and the Sad.
Angels of Lost Children, the Screams and the Gray.
Angels of the Dazed, of the Weak, and Vaguely Mad.
Their clothing once was white, now a morbid gray or a hopeless tan.
No longer do they smile, except towards their charges,
And even then it's somewhat broken, as if it's something lost in time.
Backs are bent in willing exhaustion, eyes red with lack of sleep.
And beneath those eyes are bags of pain, rippling with the weight of lives lost that night.
Their hands are always stained with blood, even when it's gone.
For the those Angels sometimes grow weak and they hide
In a corner and let themselves cry to a bitter, lonely place.
But then the guilt grows from leaving behind those that needed them with a desperation unknown to many.
So they work with those strong hands and nimble fingers,
The blood forever in the creases.
Angels of the Battlefield, of the Bitter and the Blue.
Angels of the Dying, the Hopeless and the Harmed.
Angels of the Stolen, the Crazed and the Missing.
Angels of the Dead, of the Saved, and Once Armed.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jul 09, 2011 10:55 am
Seems like most of ya'll are doing poetry. I ain't much of a poet, but I do have a couple that I had to write for a creative writing class. Here's the one I hate the least.
Take one moment, just sit and stare.
Cease your prattle, your insipid babble.
Sit and realize that the world is bare.
The world is devoid of joy, don't you care?
Full of youths raising some rabble.
Take one moment, just sit and stare.
In every country bullets and blood flood the air.
It is in pain and death that we all dabble.
Sit and realize that the world is bare.
Everywhere, children cry that it isn't fair.
Too young to realize that happiness is just a gamble.
Take one moment, just sit and stare.
'We have reserves' the generals declare.
Sending their men out to the slaughter like cattle.
Sit and realize that the world is bare.
We all must cross the river styx, be sure to pay your fare.
The cold embrace of death seems so tranquil.
Take one moment, just sit and stare.
Sit and realize that the world is bare.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
