|
Users viewing this topic:
none
|
|
Login  | |
|
RE: Share what you've written - 10/2/2005 10:53:05 PM
|
|
|
ShutterBox
Posts: 1039
Joined: 4/12/2005
Status: offline
|
Ryu stepped out of the room. It had to have been in the wee hours of the morning, for not a sound could be heard. the tourches in the underground halls were finaly dimed quite a bit if not already burned out. And there was a stillness that could usually be felt only in the early morning hours, when no one should be awake and everyone is still dreaming.
She pulled the door closed, managing to make no sounds. the oil she put in the old hinges did very well to keep them from squeeking and squeeling. Her katana hung securely on her back from the black strap. She carried her boots and walked bare foot down the halls. If she ran into a sleeping guard that would be it for her. The art of stealth at her disposal she quickly but unnoticed made it past the doors of sleeping soldiers. now for the main entrance, who would be waiting there? and even then, what was beyond the exit?.........
((hehe, more of Ryu. lol, just a random piece I wrote just now. lol.))
((purity, I didn't comment before but i think your writing is really good ^_^))
_____________________________
The Picture Muse
Adopted Sibs:
Rae
Elizabeth
Nikki
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Share what you've written - 10/3/2005 2:39:20 AM
|
|
|
painterchick
Posts: 44
Joined: 4/11/2005
Status: offline
|
i posted this in my xanga, so a lot of ppl from CW have already seen it, but here it is anyway.
so many things i want to say
but they
would only make you angry
so many excuses spoken in vain
i pray
but it will never be ok
i want to tell you how angry i am
but then you'll only be hurt again
i want to tell you a million things
but i bite back the words
i fight back the tears
i hold it inside
and i cover my ears
yet still i can hear...
and the voice of God continues to pierce
through my soul
and i know
that the words i must say
are not the ones that are bottled inside of me
no
they are words of apology.
_____________________________
love is the music of the soul
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Share what you've written - 10/3/2005 2:52:20 AM
|
|
|
painterchick
Posts: 44
Joined: 4/11/2005
Status: offline
|
The Oil Painter
Thy will be done
i'm trying
but i want to cry
even though the tears will stain my soul-canvas
i'll have to redo me gesso
so i stare at the clouds and wonder
how i could paint that pink streak...
i wish i could paint over my pain
but my pain is in oils
and all i have is my human strength...acrylic paint
and they taught me in art class
that the two can't be mixed
God alone holds the unchangeable oils
and so i whisper, "Great Artist,
Thy will be done."
(i wrote this right after my friend Starlite moved away.)
_____________________________
love is the music of the soul
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Share what you've written - 10/3/2005 6:59:15 PM
|
|
|
whisper
Posts: 148
Joined: 4/12/2005
Status: offline
|
Oooh- wow. Guitarman: I like the idea of your thoughts spinning in your head being your only lullaby.
Painterchick: I really like the imagery in your "The Oil Painter," but I think my favourite part of your poetry was from your first poem, the lines:
"and i know
that the words i must say
are not the ones that are bottled inside of me
no
they are words of apology. "
It flows really, really well, and I just love the message behind it. Yay you!
_____________________________
You can't make footprints in the sands of time if you're sitting on your bum. And who wants to make bumprints in the sands of time?
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Share what you've written - 10/3/2005 8:10:57 PM
|
|
|
gorow9
Posts: 10
Joined: 10/1/2005
Status: offline
|
Krystenteen14 don't say that!
I wanna hear u'r stuf... although whisper's is good so is yours in it's own "special" way... lol jk I'm sure that we'd all be interreested in eharing everybody elses!
~Sarah
< Message edited by gorow9 -- 10/3/2005 8:27:17 PM >
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Share what you've written - 10/3/2005 8:23:21 PM
|
|
|
gorow9
Posts: 10
Joined: 10/1/2005
Status: offline
|
Here's this poem... it's not one of my better ones but still for some reason I like it... it's so true and that's why it's so sad.
Cookie Mold School
Why does school stifle me?
Why does it hold back my learning?
It makes me feel stupid
It makes me feel dumb
I can’t understand it
It’s like a cookie mold
They try to force me into
“The PERFECT student”
Right here’s the mold:
Speaks eloquently,
Always organized,
Neat handwriting,
Perfect grammar,
Spells perfict,
Looks nice,
Always in dress code,
Never breaks the rules… even petty ones
Sheds a tear over a C+,
Always prepared- first girl-scout rule.
I was never a girl scout,
“They” try to fit me into it-
Maybe I’m a different size.
Try as I might it won’t work
I feel stifled, like what I learn
Is merely how to fit the mold
To fit into that cookie mold.
This poem is so sad and so unfortunate that things like this happen, I don't know why I wrote it... but I did.
Tragedy
Her short hair is brushed down- “face framing”
Covering the blue bruise marks marring her face
Her make-up fails to cover her black-eye,
So she wears dark shades both inside and out.
Her turtleneck feels stifling on this warm day
But the collar hides more - finger marks on her neck
Her headache hurts, but his actions kill
She sheds a tear and wonders why… but does nothing
A few weeks later she’s in the ICU
Her coma fading, her headaches
The bleep-bleep of the monitors resounds in her head
Feeling hollow with noise bouncing around
Three weeks later she’s wheeled into recovery
An IV drips morphine into her arm- dulling the pain
But his actions still kill and her questions hurt too-
For she knows she must do something
Not let this abuse continue- but what?
A week later she’s in the court…
The jury decides quickly…
She doesn’t have to deal with him any more
But the pain is still there- it won’t go
She swallows the pills… ending the pain forever.
And ever.
And here's one more, again so sad but so true. Also not one of my best so I appricate any suggestions (on any of them not just this)
Lonely,
She sat with her friends feeling so alone,
She was the most popular girl in the school,
All the guys wanted her
All the girls aspired to be like her
With her sexy body and her skanky clothes
With her manicured hands and beach blonde locks
How was it that she felt so alone?
How was it she felt so lonely?
Hanging out with his two friends
He sat under the tree,
They sat together and watched the world go by,
Knowing he was invisible to “them”
He lacked in looks and didn’t follow trends,
A subject of mockery behind his back, but he knew
All the malicious gossip and malevolent jokes
Yet as he sat there with his two friends
He knew he wasn’t alone
A rope of three cords does not break
They were equals no one was on a pedestal
No one above the other they stayed together,
They supported one another their friendship genuine.
But her beautiful hair was chemically treated,
Her boobs fake and her smile really a smirk,
She only had friends because of her looks,
Because of her fake laugh and her cool facade
She could sit there with all her friends,
But she was on another level
There friendship built on masks and layers of lies
On who dated who and who had a better bod,
So she was so alone amidst everyone
Yet he had few friends but they were true.
Yeah all of my poetry today is quite sad and pathetic... I'll have to post some happier ones later... lol :)
~Sarah~
______________________________________________________________
*I don't know how to make a siggy... but if I did it would say
"Everybody's been to a distant land, feeling far from the father's hand. Still tehre's one who understands, he's been to a distant land" ~Lost and Found
Isn't Disney just a people trap from a mouse?
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Share what you've written - 10/3/2005 8:35:43 PM
|
|
|
gorow9
Posts: 10
Joined: 10/1/2005
Status: offline
|
Guitarman.... I totally agree with Whisper, that is great imagry and I do like those lines... I wish my thoughts were a lullaby and put me to sleep. I'm sure most people do. w00t for insomniacs for sure lol! w00t for 4am aim and 3am homework and 2 am phonecalls and 1 am writing... and for the 2hrs of sleep that finally come... lol
Painter chick, I love your writing too!! How cool would that be if we could take gesso and cover up our screw-ups... but I guess God's bettr because he wipes it all away without even the texture left
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Share what you've written - 10/5/2005 4:45:43 AM
|
|
|
inlovewithshadowfax
Posts: 70
Joined: 4/11/2005
From: Washington state
Status: offline
|
Aw, man, I wish I was better at poetry so I could share more on here. But for now I'll give the first part of a short story I wrote a few months ago entitled "Mistaken Identity."
The night was dark and cold. A shadowy figure, almost indiscernible in the blackness, made his way to the farmhouse. The bundle he carried stirred slightly, and he patted it gently.
The door to the cottage opened and a thin ribbon of light streamed through. The traveler could just make out the form of the farmer, silhouetted against the relative brightness.
“You have her?” called the farmer.
“Please, not so loud,” the stranger whispered harshly. “She is here.”
“Good, good,” replied the wiry man. Opening the door some more, he motioned the man inside. The figure stepped forward and shook his cloak free of the rain. The farmer, growing impatient, started walking down the hall. “This way,” he called back. “She’ll be sleeping here.”
The traveler’s long strides caught up to the farmer in seconds. The small room at the back of the house contained little more than a dresser and a bed. Reverently he placed his precious daughter on the mattress. As he looked down at the small girl, his eyes filled with tears. She was only two years old. Would she remember him when he came back for her? Was he doing the right thing? Was he making a terrible mistake? No, there was too much trouble in the kingdom, too much strife. She wouldn’t be safe with him until things settled down. This was the best course. But it was so painful.
The man bent down and kissed his girl on the cheek. “You’ll always be my little princess,” he whispered. “Don’t ever believe otherwise.”
With that, the traveler pulled the covers around the toddler, and reluctantly turned to the farmer. Pulling a small bag from inside his cloak, he held it out to the other man. “Here are fifteen gold pieces. You’ll receive more depending on the state of things when I return.”
The farmer greedily grabbed the pouch. “Thank you ever so much. I trust you’ll warn us of your arrival.”
The man shook his head. “I don’t know when I can come back. Be prepared. I may be here twenty days from now, or twenty years. But you won’t have to worry if you treat my daughter well, now will you?”
“Of course, of course,” stammered the farmer. He trembled a little while he led the imposing figure to the door. But his shaking subsided as the visitor disappeared into the night.
That really just gives you the backstory, but the whole story is too long to post on here.
Oh, I just found this poem that I totally forgot about. I wrote it in February 2004, so it was a little while ago (before I actually started thinking about meter and all those important poem things  ). But, oh, well. Maybe tomorrow I'll post a better poem.
Scars
I try so hard
But every move I make
I’m crucifying you
All over again.
I wipe the blood
Remove the nails
But the scars still remain.
Forever they say
What I did to You
How I was the one
To cause Your pain.
But crying now
You lift my head
And show the scars
Once again
They always say
You love me.
_____________________________
And I'm still fighting for the word
To break these chains
Can I still pray when I look in your eyes
Stare right back down
Into something beautiful
~"Something Beautiful"- Jars of Clay~
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Share what you've written - 10/5/2005 2:09:59 PM
|
|
|
notsuccinct
Posts: 395
Joined: 4/11/2005
From: my desk
Status: offline
|
gosh, whisper... compile your poems and send them to a publisher. seriously. they are all absolutely amazing. I really especially like the coffee pot one.
okay... here are a couple that I actually wrote last night. I must admit I'm a bit apprehensive about posting uncopyrighted material... but then again that's assuming that what I write is good enough to steal.
imperfect
some people talk of writing poetry
as if it is this spiritual out-of body experience.
where inspiration comes to you unannounced
and with it, words
and it all pours out of you
like liquid from a full pitcher.
and there you have it:
perfect poetry.
sometimes it is.
but sometimes, thoughts are not easily expressed
they must be worked out.
a word does not always capture an idea
holding it properly, in just the right way.
tweaking is required.
am I somehow less poetic
less real
because I edit what I write?
holding my breath
it's kind of hard now.
I used to sing simply because
I liked it.
I still like it.
but now,
well,
now I'm your favorite singer.
in the whole world.
ever.
now, my voice
is the most beautiful voice you've ever heard.
(second only to your wife, of course.)
now, I sound like a rockstar.
I am
Jennifer Knapp
Sarah McClaughlin
Natalie Merchant
Sarah Groves
Norah Jones
Amy Lee
Nichole Nordeman
Amy Grant
and every other girl
with a guitar, or a piano,
or a voice.
all rolled into one
convenient
package.
yippee for you, huh?
now I have to sing
"beautifully" every time
because you invited them
just to hear me.
it's not your fault, really
trying to compliment me
and let me know that you enjoy hearing me.
it was kind of nice at first.
but now,
I am afraid to let you down.
---
and this is one I wrote a rather long time ago.
blank lines filled with promise
potential waiting for fulfillment.
pages void of man-made marks
many to be ripped out and discarded
from frustration over words
that do not adequately express my feelings.
emptiness to be filled by my pencils and pens
pages reserved for my thoughts.
the gift of expression
the gift of a spiral-bound notebook.
that's more than enough for now. maybe some story stuff later. 
_____________________________
"Beware of making a fetish of consistency to your convictions instead of being devoted to God." -- Oswald Chambers
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Share what you've written - 10/5/2005 2:17:45 PM
|
|
|
sar-uh
Posts: 7
Joined: 7/4/2005
Status: offline
|
gret, great stuff!!
_____________________________
My name is graven on His hands,
My name is written on His heart.
I know that while in heaven He stands
No tongue can bid me thence depart.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Share what you've written - 10/5/2005 2:22:51 PM
|
|
|
Konstantinos
Posts: 8509
Joined: 4/14/2005
From: Greece Thessaloniki
Status: offline
|
superb things.
_____________________________
I'm best friends with the boogie man.
I'm a beast.
I'm a HH.
Tiger hug.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Share what you've written - 10/5/2005 2:31:03 PM
|
|
|
Konstantinos
Posts: 8509
Joined: 4/14/2005
From: Greece Thessaloniki
Status: offline
|
lol there is no way I can understand most of these. Its hard sometimes even in greek.
_____________________________
I'm best friends with the boogie man.
I'm a beast.
I'm a HH.
Tiger hug.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Share what you've written - 10/5/2005 4:12:31 PM
|
|
|
Purity88
Posts: 95
Joined: 4/12/2005
From: the basement comp
Status: offline
|
I can't think of a name for my novel.
|
|
|
|
|
Forum Tools
Printable Version
. bravo, guitarman.
