RE: Share what you've written (Full Version)

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ShutterBox -> RE: Share what you've written (10/2/2005 10:53:05 PM)

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 ^_^))



RecusantPoet -> RE: Share what you've written (10/3/2005 12:13:26 AM)

man i gotta get to work on my poetry again LOL [;)]



RecusantPoet -> RE: Share what you've written (10/3/2005 12:39:35 AM)

ill just post some old stuff so i can contribute to an awesome thread [;)]

Windows of My Soul

Sometimes when I look in the mirror
I don't always know what I see
Maybe my windows are fogged
With a wordly lie thats being thrown at me

Sometimes I feel so blind
My windows are now opaque
Trying to clear them myself
Was not only useless but a mistake

Now things have become worse
And no one can see who I am
Filled with a dreaded feeling of hopelessness
Like a frightened little lamb

The only answer must be God
My only hope for being whole
One day everyone will know me
When you look into my Windows of My Soul



RecusantPoet -> RE: Share what you've written (10/3/2005 12:42:10 AM)

w00t for fellow insomniacs out there. [;)]

The Insomniatic Confession

I toss and I turn
At the sound of my clock
Staring at the ceiling
As it will stare back and mock

The undying activity
That lingers on in my brain
Reliving all the day's memoirs
Just as prominent as they came

The power goes out
The clock no longer ticking
A new frustration takes form
For the silence is deafening

Many hours go by
Not a sight nor sound
Just the ringing of my thoughts
Create the only lullaby i've found



painterchick -> RE: Share what you've written (10/3/2005 2:39:20 AM)

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.



painterchick -> RE: Share what you've written (10/3/2005 2:52:20 AM)

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.)



whisper -> RE: Share what you've written (10/3/2005 6:59:15 PM)

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!



gorow9 -> RE: Share what you've written (10/3/2005 8:10:57 PM)

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



gorow9 -> RE: Share what you've written (10/3/2005 8:23:21 PM)

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?



gorow9 -> RE: Share what you've written (10/3/2005 8:35:43 PM)

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



ChiefWannahakaloogie -> RE: Share what you've written (10/3/2005 10:52:33 PM)

quote:

Windows of My Soul

Sometimes when I look in the mirror
I don't always know what I see
Maybe my windows are fogged
With a wordly lie thats being thrown at me

Sometimes I feel so blind
My windows are now opaque
Trying to clear them myself
Was not only useless but a mistake

Now things have become worse
And no one can see who I am
Filled with a dreaded feeling of hopelessness
Like a frightened little lamb

The only answer must be God
My only hope for being whole
One day everyone will know me
When you look into my Windows of My Soul


i like this alot.
[8|]



RecusantPoet -> RE: Share what you've written (10/3/2005 10:53:18 PM)

Hey thanks guys! lol Yeah poetry can be a great way to express those inexpressible emotions and feelings. Loving ur stuff you gals! [:D]
heres another from a past thread.[;)]

Crimson Sunrise


There is no stopping
The great ball of fire
Inevitably neverending
With its own passion and desire

The great blanket of the stars
Now engulfed in a bloodshot flood
Boldening and thickening
Like a red desert of mud

All will turn to silence
As the great ring of flame arises
Boldly it comes Boldly it says
A message to the wisest

Behold I am here
The new day shall commence
Behold I have arrived
For I am accurate and intense

I was given this power
The power to set the power to rise
Power from He that is above
He who called me the Crimson Sunrise



ChiefWannahakaloogie -> RE: Share what you've written (10/4/2005 3:21:14 PM)

man...i like your stuff alot.
[8|]



whisper -> RE: Share what you've written (10/4/2005 11:52:20 PM)

As do I [:)]. bravo, guitarman.



inlovewithshadowfax -> RE: Share what you've written (10/5/2005 4:45:43 AM)

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.



Psalm_138 -> RE: Share what you've written (10/5/2005 10:07:14 AM)


quote:

ORIGINAL: Buttercupgre80

quote:

Windows of My Soul

Sometimes when I look in the mirror
I don't always know what I see
Maybe my windows are fogged
With a wordly lie thats being thrown at me

Sometimes I feel so blind
My windows are now opaque
Trying to clear them myself
Was not only useless but a mistake

Now things have become worse
And no one can see who I am
Filled with a dreaded feeling of hopelessness
Like a frightened little lamb

The only answer must be God
My only hope for being whole
One day everyone will know me
When you look into my Windows of My Soul


i like this alot.
[8|]


Me too[:)]



notsuccinct -> RE: Share what you've written (10/5/2005 2:09:59 PM)

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. [8|]



RecusantPoet -> RE: Share what you've written (10/5/2005 2:13:38 PM)

SWEEET stuff yo!! [:D] [;)]



sar-uh -> RE: Share what you've written (10/5/2005 2:17:45 PM)

gret, great stuff!!



Konstantinos -> RE: Share what you've written (10/5/2005 2:22:51 PM)

superb things.



RecusantPoet -> RE: Share what you've written (10/5/2005 2:23:06 PM)

quote:

Frail

So odd to think that this palpable sensation
the rising and falling of your chest
the measured rhythmic moving of your heart
this timed performance that feels so changeable, tamperable
determines your very ability to be with me now
to look at me with those speckled brown eyes.
Frail, fragile, fleeting life
we hold on but this is not our end
not our biggest pot of gold
we fear the beyond but that is our place
and that shiny spec in your eye
is just a reflection of future glory
all our love- just a piece of the Father's presence
So every palpitation felt is movement
and every movement an opportunity for change
Let fragility quicken and inspire
your breaths are numbered but oh so powerful
breathe to speak- speak to inspire
inspire, expire, all to an end
look with compassion and be swift on your feet
carrying a message that will outlive your tired body
a body that one day will lay cold and abandoned-
expired.


this blew me away! GENIUS!! LOL

quote:

So odd to think that this palpable sensation
the rising and falling of your chest
the measured rhythmic moving of your heart
this timed performance that feels so changeable, tamperable


this sounds familiar hmmm lol



notsuccinct -> RE: Share what you've written (10/5/2005 2:26:03 PM)

by the way, Gil, that aldous huxley quote is one of my favorites of his ever. though he has some other good ones. [;)] in fact, I nearly used it as my sig here. lol.



RecusantPoet -> RE: Share what you've written (10/5/2005 2:29:03 PM)

lol cool isn't it? lol [;)]



Konstantinos -> RE: Share what you've written (10/5/2005 2:31:03 PM)

lol there is no way I can understand most of these. Its hard sometimes even in greek.



Purity88 -> RE: Share what you've written (10/5/2005 4:12:31 PM)

I can't think of a name for my novel.



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