Forums » Creative Corner » Read Thread

Just tagging everyone who was there in the last prompt: @Gower @Ozoni @Mayana @Orange @Austinc @ninjapitka @IsentinelPenguin @The_Broken_God  

@TharaApples @C6H8O6 @Cupcakitty_13 @juliemmarch

I look upwards high, at the blue azure sky,
I look downwards low, as the crimson pool grows,
I look left, I look right, at the hazy sight, in my eyes,
I look inwards inside me, deep down into my mind,

I think of the moment that brought me to this plight,
To this moment of despair, dread and of utter fright,
I think of the moment that brought me to this 
sight,
To this monent of need, regret, and absolute respite,

The things that I had done, do they matter anymore?
In the long run, was anything worth it anymore?
Is anything in this wretched world worth saving anymore?
Has everything I had done till now, have no meaning anymore?

I don't know...
I don't know...

I do not know if the glimpses of his radiant smile mattered,
I do not know if the touch of his alluring skin 
mattered,
I do not know if his eyes melting my heart mattered,
I do not know if to me, the fate he met mattered,

But I do know...
But I do know...

I do know that my love, for him did matter,
I do know that my life, for him did matter,
I do know it was inevitable, and it did matter,
I do know it was me or him, and it did matter,

It did matter a lot, 
When the disease let him rot,
It did matter a lot,
When death came and brought,

Within it, its desire, 
Its thirst as it perspires,
It looks hungry, and admires,
Him, as it desires...

It desires the glimpses, of his radiant smile that mattered,
It desires the touch, of his alluring skin that mattered,
It desires his eyes, melting my heart that mattered,
It desires its fate, sated its desire that mattered,

And so it does come in, and so it does invade in,
Our merry little world, as mighty as an earl,
As if on a shopping spree, of every family,
Our family was next, on the list of death.

The grip of death is subtle, so subtle yet so strong,
It feasts on his smile, turning it to rot,
The once radiant beam, of sunshine and of glee,
Was now twisted wrong, maggots festering along,

The grip of death was horrid, so disgustingly insane,
It then feasts on his eyes, turning them inane, 
Those eyes which once had, melted me like hot wax,
Were now staring red, into my world with dread,

The grip of death so cruel, so cruel and unfair,
It stole from me my love, making him irrepair,
It gives him a massage, such a sickening envisage,
It hypnotizes him and makes, him its new slave,

I know, his fate was sealed the minute his mind,
Gave in to death's cold, yet seductive embrace,
Yet I couldn't accept, Death taking mine!
The only thing that matters in my life!

So I fight with him, no, I, fight with it,
I fight death, taking over him,
I gouge out his eyes, I flail his skin,
So very beautiful and so very pure within,

But little do I know that I sealed my fate,
Gave death an opening, its teeth in me,
I shrieked horrified, not accepting my fate,
As darkness looms, and I feel it in me...

I feel death in me... 

I stop my thoughts nigh, as I look upwards high,
On the blue azure sky, as the sun goes by,
Its fiery light ablaze, as it makes me amazed,
It colours my eyes, once lifeless with life,

Then it comes in front of me, 
The being that took from me,
It took from me my most dearest,
And has the gall to confront me?!

"Poor little girl, your heart's so pure," 
"That you gave your life away,"
"For something so worthless..."
"As love?"

It laughs maniacally, mocking my choices,
I laugh back too, mocking his choices,

"Poor little death, you're so naïve, 
"You thought I gave my life away,"
"I saved him, from your ghastly claws,"
"I saved him from you, by giving you me,"

Death howls in rage, and attacks,
But is pushed back, and relents,

"Your heart is so pure, that I can't get through,"
"I have more easier, impure prey than you,"

And so it let's me go, and I drift away,
Into nothingness, blackness, and dismay,
And I never regret my decisions any, 
For he, the love in me, shines brightly, 

Till eternity...

Well , u surely can churn out words better than me , so +10

A bit darkish , i guess the hospital does that to , the best of us...

hey but on the bright side you  got bitten and now have

the chance of advancing  your class  to a eternal zombie B2 (>_<)  ~

alright enough messing  around i am not a qualified enough expert on poems but  , 

its just that some lines or phrases , just don't roll off all that easily, at times.

though your composition is quite complex not in general story but styling , it  keeps changing

i have no method or techniques just my instincts , that tell me you surely can polish it to the next level ,  

sometimes removing words are more helpfully than adding em .

and this general tip that i read somewhere long long ago and it just got stuck to me ...

"How do you know if what u wrote is correct or proper enough ? just read it once or twice and see if it all feels harmonious , if it isn't u will just know , even if you don't understand the cause , you can sense the disharmony in it" 

 

I really like this piece! I liked your shift in tone from despairing to somewhat hopeful while still keeping it melancholic the entire time--I think that's really difficult to do well, and you succeeded in that. I also like the imagery in the the 1st stanza and then when it almost repeats towards the end. And your story is subtle enough to fit your style of writing, but still concrete to fit into the narrative poetry prompt. Great work! :)

Sincerely, I don't know how someone will want to participate in a shooting range to be judged on when you won't gaining anything else than being trolled. More in poetry with the extra difficulty.

One of the biggest events
made of short segments
To ever grace the big screen

A race for the ages
Set up in three stages
Wardens, Architects, Marauders, and Sages
Compete in the heat of gasoline

Team sex appeal
on steeds of steel
ride ever mobile
to fufill their desires

The Aryans of the West
Out to beat the rest
On this course? Dispossessed.
Rockin' white-wall tires

There are others
Far less than brothers
On a paint line that smothers
The charred circuit of black

Revving for the world
Treads carefully knurled
Heat off the tar twirled
and they're off with a crack

Boogity Boogity Boogity

thanks me too. Guessing you did now like the poem very much? :^)

It was OK.

Alright the poem was great ,

cool rhyming with appropriate timing ,

but cant help but ask whats that at the end boogity?

it kinda breaks the whole ....um aftertaste?

you must not be american

Yep , not American .

So I googled it hmm .... A curious way of making people hurry along , especially when logic tells that in a hurry you would simply use less syllables instead like for example go go go ~ 

Dark descends from rafters old
Its taloned claws grasp to enfold
Reaching, drawing, life within
Another soul yields to the cold

Yet still it hungers, yearns to feed
Its umbral heart in pain bereaved
Searching, hunting, life again
To fill its harrowed twisted need

Shadows rage, filled with hate
Its prey no more to satiate
Crying, trying, life to end
Unwilling to accept its fate

Blinding, searing, boiling light
Its passing comes without a fight
Facing, embracing, final death
The dawn obliterates the night

A good poem , solidity in your lines 

And the struggle of day and night , hats off  !

Alright i am what u might call an armature at this, so pardon my meagre skills...

All i have is my instinct and intution to guide me through this poetic endavour.

 

A poem ! she requested ,

thats all ?... I grew intrested~

i thought a while , 

i  rummaged my ol pile ,~

but it was all missing !

thus my reminiscing...

i wonder a awhile...

i  pondered a mile !

sadly, nothing comes to  mind ~

 thus i crashed in blind !

figured it can take a while ,

wondered if it was worthwhile ?

 to look for those fickle words ,

and turn em to mighty birds !

this was no simple task !

but tis was all , she asked !

so i  looked at my trusty mate ,

i said "Lappy" this is our fate !

lets write some tales ~

of fellow scholars and heroic females .  

So , here we are with my idotic smile ,

wondering, pondering & turning senile ~

                                                                                       

                                              -   Immortal Beggar    \|0_o| /

 (might as well dedicate to ShoujoAddict , afterall she dragged me in this  ....  )

oh right poems are supposed to have a titlee too right? thats the hardest part ...ummm

alright here goes nothing :   "Tackling Poem at Dawn ."

 

 

 

Are you a furry? Loppy your banging toy is a rabbit or a bird? Loppy is a rabbit name.

....(sweating ) its Lappy as in laptop ......

(<>_<>)

Sure sure you are mating your laptop. I am not one to judge you...

Come on cut this noob some slack 
Posion lady ?? , next time I will just conjure
Up some random beauty as sacrifice ?? for your

Furry desires ~

I am more into whips and leather not into furries.

This is an older poem that I revised slightly for this prompt, hopefully it's okay--it's about a pretty weird night I had last summer lmao. Let me know what you think! 

 

I spoke with a ghost named Malcolm,

Who’s been dead for thirty years,

On a kitchenette floor at midnight

Empty bottles inhibit my fears.

 

I talked with a ghost so friendly

As he swung crystals left to right

On safety-pin leather strands

From twitching, oil-scorched hands

Words slurring, prose polite.

 

The ghost neither upsets nor offends me,

Rather quite the gentleman,

He's appeared in my vision now,

The cabin’s longest denizen.

 

I mused with a ghost, Listen closely,

I’ve been feeling very odd,

Who is he? Who is me?

Head is slumping to a nod.

 

Now tell me dear ghost, Named Malcolm,

Have you ever been in love?

Then, the room turned cold,

The pendulum lost hold,

No telling, no speaking of.

I really like this. It's nice how it's imagined to be a nice chat between the narrator and his friendly ghost for a while, but he disappears once the narrator touches on past trauma. A pleasing "ghosts are people too" vibe. 

(Also your pfp is amazing I adore nature in pixel art)

Thank you--that's pretty much what I was going for! And thanks for the pfp compliment, pixel art is probably my favorite form of digital art (and the only one I can do lol) :)

There was a man once, happy and young
The universe envied his will for a happy life
People talked about him yet his harships remained unsung
For to rise to heaven almighty, to hell he must dive
Only to rise through strife using his lessons to thrive

A man was in constant battle with his own self
Believing his own shadow to be his worst enemy
In embrace of a smart man in his mind he had to delve
Dig through the truth and find his own identity
For to his tension ease he had to seek serenity

Eventually the man was forced to come to terms
With the fact he had arrived to combat his fears
He felt all over his skin crawling the worms
Maggots squirmed over his eyes, entered through his ears
Each one one of his peers come to deliver their sneers

Jealousy was rampant throughout his universe
People were toiling everyday denying all others
For in their inadequacy they were too nervous
For others to succeed where they remained the suckers
Their compassion became smothered, where once they were brothers

This realization made the man spread his wings
The nefarious gloom left several miles behind
For years he wandered, following other kings
Yet never he found himself or one of his kind
Eventually he resigned to the confines of his mind

The man became a man bitter and shunned
The lust for life sucked out of his eyes
He declared to spend his life alone and
Focus just on himself, contemplate all the lies
To his surprise he earned a reputation of being wise

On a particular day he met the one he sought
There was a man once, happy and young
The man absorbed every lesson he taught
The pointed questions he asked made his joy unstrung
For he clung to the shape of truth he had learned wrung

I'm not sure I will have time to write up something new for this anytime soon, so I'll just post one of the narrative poems from The Book of Vanishing Tales since it fits the theme. I might also post a collaborative poem I worked on a while back if I can find it.
 

The Frozen Burro

Into the frigid north she glid,
With sails of of cloth and frost.
The Happy Burro and her crew,
On rising waves were tossed.

A ruddy captain with keen eye,
Held steady to the wheel.
"Batten down the hatch!" he cried,
"And lower down the keel."

His first mate feared the sting of ice,
"We've gone too far," he warned.
"Stay the course!" the captain said,
Advice of cowards scorned.

"Papa, where are we going,
Where my blanket gives no heat,"
His buxom daughter begged him,
With pouting, honey-sweet.

"We must continue onwards,
Until cold gives way to fire!
We are hours away from treasure,
That will sate all desire!"

"What good are idle riches,
When our lips are turning blue?
And we cannot see for snowflakes,
Won't you turn back for your crew!"

"Nay, destiny has called us,
On this bright and moonless night,
The Burro does not flee from fate,
No matter winter's bite."

"Oh, he will not be disuaded!"
The first mate gnashed his teeth.
"Come, lass, to the figurehead,
Into its hollow sheath!"

The little wooden donkey,
Was a small and simple nest,
But the sailors fit her in it,
And around her blankets pressed.

One the morrow to an island,
Heated by the molten core,
Came the frozen Burro sailing
Like a hearse unto its shore.

"What new victims has Alus claimed?"
The weary natives cried,
"Do they not know that none can cross,
That all who try have died?"

Fifteen new graves along the sand,
Joining two hundred old.
"But wait! A treasure we have found,
Of far more worth than gold!"

The figurehead is opened,
And the maiden placed on silk,
"We welcome you to paradise,
With honey and with milk."

Crowned with flowers a princess,
She has all her father sought,
But on moonless nights she mourns
The tragedy he wrought.

The Happy Burro ever floats
A memory in the bay
Eternal port in balmy waters
Watching royal children play.

And here is the collaborative one. This one was done in a group over several years as a fun side project we bounced around, that may or may not find a home one day in a book. I know I wrote the dragon verse, a couple of the riddle stanzas, and worked a lot on the structure/rhythm of the piece to make sure it sounded unified together.

I'll sing you a tale of things real and imagined
Spun far away across mountain and sea
A waif in the mist and a terrible dragon
A curse
And a kiss
If you'll come follow me

A castle forgotten inside a damp forest
Shadows come weaving far colder than dark
In the gray fog there's no sound but a footfall
Black trees
And no light
But a willow-wisp spark

Knock once, knock twice
On the door that was locked
Raise now a toast
The journey is Long

Leaves underfoot like the crackle of fire
Ground into dust like the ash of the dead
Come to the moat is a figure of sorrow
To late
to repent
Of the things left unsaid

Give once, no more,
A gift without giving
Speak once, no more
The final request

Up from the deep rises a serpent of brimstone
Barring the way with scale, claw, tooth, and flame
But bound to the song of lost memories’ candle
He fades
Into light
Proud death rendered tame

Sing once, sing twice
To the Gate that is shut
Ring once, ring twice
The bell that is lost

A drawbridge leads on to the door closed forever
Passing 'o’er graves of the mighty and proud
The slightest of knocks resounds through the silence
A crash
and a roar
And the lifting of cloud

Step once, step twice,
To the life that is dead,
Kiss and behold
The dream that is real

An end to a tale of things real and imagined
Spun in the hearts of the children of men
Wielder of fire become soldier of fortune
A blade
And a curse
Seal the pledge ne'er again

They tell a sad and dreadful tale,   
The stones of Arandore.   
A city, in a grassy vale,   
Now gone forever more.   

A city built on crop and trade,    
A city filled with life!     
A city where a pious maid  
Would fall upon her knife.   

She was a servant of the gods,    
Poor Sister Elenore,  
But, cursed with beauty, soon at odds,   
With Princeling Rastadore.  

He saw the city as his own,   
Its people as his pets.  
And Elenore, at night, alone,    
He stole without regrets.  

Her screams were heard throughout the night,    
And, so the legends say,  
With no one there to end her plight  
She wished not see the day...  

Her body, in a shallow grave,  
Would set the world alight,  
The townsfolk, neither strong, nor brave,  
Still chose to end her fight.

It isn't known who lit the fires  
That burned the grassy vale.  
Nor is it known who built the pyres...  
But no side would prevail.  

The winds have cleared the ash they bore,  
The rains the blackened stones.  
The grass still grows in Arandore  
Amidst the scattered bones.  

 

A Little Old Lady From Pasadena

 

The stars shone brightly in the evening sky

Upon an old woman selling a lie

She danced in the night, so cold and bizarre

For she claimed that she owned the Northern star

 

Along came a man, no money to spare

He called out “Hello, is anyone there?”

His eyes wore a milky cover of fog

And he sat on a short stump of a log

 

The old woman smiled and puffed a cigar

“How do you feel about buying a star?”

The blind man gestured around at the night

“Why buy a star without first buying sight?”

 

The old woman lied, with plans to renege

“It grants any wish no matter how big”

The blind man was simple, no need for drawl

“Will it grant any wish no matter how small?”

 

She smiled and nodded and yelled out a ‘yes’

The man was sold though he had to confess

“I have no money for which I can pay,

Perhaps I can pay you another way?”

 

The woman was tired, or maybe just old

“I do not need silver, care not for gold”

She had such a lonely, sad demeanor

“I want to go home to Pasadena”

 

The man laughed hearty, he felt so alive

“I own a car though I’m too blind to drive,

What do you say in exchange for your star,

I give you the keys to my beat-up old car”

 

The old woman agreed and took the key

Then gave the rules for wishing for free

“It can't give riches, not even a dime,

It can cure ailments, but not turn back time”

 

The blind man looked up at the North star

And wondered at the way things always are

Made the only wish his heart would allow

“I wish I was dead, right here and right now”

 

The old woman screamed and some cops heard her

Soon they had her arrested for murder

The star faded and she did not post bail

Locked away in the Pasadena Jail