Poetry Corner

[Saffire Persian]

I'm not one for poetry, but I wrote this for my Creative Writing class I'm taking, and felt I might as well share it. Any comments, critique, etc. is greatly appreciated.

R.E.M. | G.A.T.E.

When the day flashes lapis-gossamer
in the star-blown sky,
I lie awake and wonder things
while the silent cat-clock tail thrashes in reply,
counting missing moments
that have unknowingly ticked by.

My eyes waver, and they close
I see light breaking through the hallowed clouds
of darkness mixed with rainbow Catherine wheels.
Disfigured colors, where black is white:
a picture of Picasso artistry-
Ah! Such a marvelous sight!

Then I see starlight, vague images of fleeting shadows,
Where houses have no name,
It's a quiet town with thin-waxed candles
with a single, unmarked grave, grazed by winter's chill.
They wait for the spring that is to come
with its immortal daffodils.

I wonder, then, if my hand should hold a sword,
or perhaps a bow or scythe,
as I come upon an ancient castle,
where magic must reside.
Within, I'll fight the fierce chimeras
and ride the pegasi.

But it is then,
I suddenly realize,
That I really should be building
my castle in the sky
where dreams are made of dreams
and never do they die.

But I'm walking on grass now,
(and the sky seems so far away)
My thoughts seem forever trivial,
as light as a cool spring day
Everything is nothing now,
like a child’s honest play.

The scenery is now familiar
I think that I am home, perhaps this time to stay,
Laughing children, familiar faces,
mouths open as if to say,
to come and walk with them once more,
just like yesterday.

Then, that light appears again,
with it's stunning Catherine wheels
and hypnotizing rainbows.
I fight, but lose the battle against the pulling shine--
I jerk and thrash and throw my head upright
into the territory that is mine.

There's no more grass, no more sky
and no more thin-waxed candles,
just a quiet, monochrome world,
where everything is as it seems
It is then, and only then, that I wonder
if perhaps this is a dream.

[mistysakura]

Beware the blasphemy. Mm... yeah I hope no one will be offended. It's all in the name of art.

Brimstone Diamonds

Warmth licking, stroking, embracing,
searing a tattoo across the skin
like a whisper. Savour the intimacy
stolen from the chilled skies.
Light flickering, crackling, illuminating
the depths of sin, reflecting, diffracting
casting overlapping shadows –
Shades of grey in a world of
vermillion and crimson
flaming roses.
Succumb to the devil’s beauty.

In hell our voices are as one
shrieking in praise, not for escape
no eternal yearning for something beyond.
Forever is this instant of ravishing pain
as we burst into a lacrymosa
each phrase counterpoint to the symphonic
freedom. In hell
We use the Almighty’s name in vain.

Injustice has no place in hell
The killer and the thief share a bonfire
hunger extinguished by the flames
disease overcome by our darkness.
No inhibitions
as we sway, fearless feet on glowing coals.
No thoughtcrime no blasphemy no original sin
for the Lord’s judgment has forsaken us.
No harsh cry of the last trumpet heard.

We revel in immortality
cast aflame, never to perish.
Hell sees our souls recast by death
purified from molten flesh.
We are brimstone diamonds
The magnificence of the inferno
a backdrop for our shameless acts
shedding light on evil truth
its luminescence clinging like a
halo.


So... an artist's impression of hell, of sorts. Anyway, time for my usual author's blabbering. This one came about because I was thinking about how the Catholic Church abolished limbo. The original ideas might go in another poem someday, but anyway thinking about that led on to hell, and how some qualities of it might even be attractive to those in a living hell on earth... which is what is here in great exaggeration. Just a random note, I don't believe everything I write (not in creative writing anyway). this is the favourite of my poems so far, although I think it's quite self-indulgent and in parts it sounds like I copied words out of a thesaurus. I was trying to capture such a magnificent thing, and yet I had to be so vague because, well, obviously I don't know the specifics of hell, and I also tried to make it resonate with what most people would think hell is like (physically; spiritually it's all subverted, of course.) Inspirations: Plantae's short story 'An end to reason' (I was going to make this a trilogy of heaven, limbo and hell, but you've pretty much said everything I want to say about heaven), Mozart's Requiem (Lacrymosa) (or rather, Evanescence's usage of it), Faure's Requiem.

[Zcade0]

This poem is by a good friend of mine named Ryan Riverside:

Empty



Sitting here in an empty chair

Staring at the empty table

Resting in the empty room

Not quite in the empty house


Walking down the empty streets

Stomping on quite deadened feet

Looking in through empty windows

Passing into empty houses


Waiting in the empty lines

Hating all the empty rides

Riding on the empty trains

Trying to find unempty places


Passing through the empty towns

Hearing nothing in empty places

Drowning in the empty lakes

Knowing that’s empty living there


Passing by the empty people

Hearing all their empty thoughts

Crashing through their empty lives

Ignoring all their empty cries

--

he has a lot more, but I thought I'd just post this one for now

[Houndoom_Lover]

I should start posting my poems here! ^_^ Here is my faaaaavorite!!

-----

That is then
This was now
break the dam
and drowned the town

Past was dark
future dim
hold your breath
if you can't swim

---
YAY! ^_^

[Zcade0]

Another one by Ryan Riverside, this one is my favorite out of them all:

--
Reading Can Be Dangerous

She opened the book and compellingly began reading

Her whole heart and mind into what she sees

With the characters her heart is bleeding

And she trembles at her knees


As she gets more involved in the story she can feel their pain more

She becomes entwined with the book

And the book begins to explain blood and gore

But she just can’t break her look


Her character’s hurt, and her character’s crying

And she’s on the floor

Now the character’s dying

But she keeps on reading for more


The character gets stabbed in the back

And she winces with the hurt

On the wood-plank floor there’s a dusty crack

And a blade sticking up out of the dirt


With her dying breath she reads her last

And with the character

Dies with a gasp

The book falling next to her


When she was found and pulled away

Her mother found the book right where it was left

She shrugged and looked to see what it was named

And started reading what was left


Another character, and a later time

Her eyes widened with delight

This reading was sublime

She stayed up late into the night


Her character was a detective

Investigating the previous murder

The mother was quite perceptive

And kept reading further


She immersed herself in the book as well,

Reading as she walked from room to room

Until the detective for some reason fell

And she went to the floor with a terrific boom


The murderer was upon the detective

And the mother felt that someone was on her as well

She was quite perceptive

Even though she fell.


The detective was beaten by the murderer

Beaten bloody and left for dead

Even bloody the mother read on a little further

Wiping the blood from her head


The detective recovered in five pages

As did the mother

Exhausted, she fell asleep after fifteen more pages

As the detective was put in a coma by some other


The brother came by and saw the mother with the book

He went in the room and snatched it up

Just so that he could have a look

He read so long he missed his sup


His character was a bit more involved

He was given lots of clues

Lots of things to be solved

They stumped him until the character knew what to do


When the murderer went after this character

He knew how to fight

He karated his way against the murderer

It was drawn out long into the night


The brother read slower than the other two

So he grew tired partway through the fight

But he did not bid the book adieu

Even after it was again light


At the end of the fight the character caught fire

The brother ran outside, fighting invisible flames

In the book the flames grew even higher

And the murderer took all the blames


With his hands he fought the flame that couldn’t really be there

But yet it crisped his clothes

And it singed his hair

It came and came in murderous droves


In the book the character was doused with water

And so the brother fell to the ground

Relieved to not be charcoal fodder

He read on, ready for another round


The water roused the brother

And he was no longer exhausted

He no longer thought of his mother

Or of how the ground was frosted


He read as his character was kidnapped by the evil one

And taken out into the middle of nowhere land

And thrown near who-knows-what

The snow on the ground chilling the character’s hand


The character had nowhere he could go

He did not know where he was

He was lost in the snow

Just as the brother was


As the character died of exposure

Because he was a slow reader

The brother died as just as sure

Content with the avid reader


And along came the father

Who thought the son was sleeping

And thought ‘oh what the bother’

And began reading


The newest character was the villain

Who was hunted by all in their own ways

But he was content in his own killin’

And all against him had to count their days


And as the father immersed himself in this sorry character

He truly felt

That the villain’s character

Was girded around his own mental belt


And as the villain prowled around looking for the plotters

So did the man

Sneaking around the plant potters

Reading man to man


The neighbor’s dog chased the reader

Just as a junkyard dog chased the villain

And both dogs bit a bleeder

And both the men went to their killin’


And as the dog just began to choke

The police were finally called

To come after this joke

And other dogs came and mauled


The father ran away from the neighborhood dogs

Ran into the woods

To hear all the frogs

And the villain ran into the ‘hood


They lay where they were

To recuperate from the blood loss they had

The man reading the words

Their blood loss was bad


As the man lay there dying

Just as the villain did

He could hear a little boy crying

And found where the boy hid


In order to comfort the boy

Who had snapped him from his reading trance

Since he had no toy

He gave him the giant book for a glance

[Gavin Luper]

Hey guys. I'm no poet or anything, and most good poetry just goes over my head, but we had to write a sonnet for my creative writing class, so I thought I'd post it up here. It's probably not very good, but I dunno, I kind of like it.

-------------------------------------

Woman of the Earth

Is there a deed more terrible than this?
The potter’s hands bear down on you like clay
Resilient beauty trampled by my wish
A Vulcan rivulet from pewter grey
The first of many glaring needles will
Put you to death: Destroy the precious few
Distinctions from your parallels and hills
Immerse you in a stream of grey and blue
Your hardened face deceived a poor man’s hope
For you were stagnant with no need to stay
You gave the overlord untrammelled scope
Beneath his flooding you were wiped away.

I smile: your wounds heal up after the rain
Your reformed, rugged beauty breathes again.

[Gavin Luper]

I don't know if this is a poem or a song or just questions. Whichever way, this was very cathartic for me to write.

Daimler

How can you stand to see yourself like this?
How can you stand to do what you don't want to?
How do you cope when you're your own antithesis?
How can you win when you can't get out of bed?

How does spinelessness overcome your resistance?
How does dependency make you a stronger man?
How can you equate alcoholism with breathing?
How can you say suicidal is being yourself?

How do you kill yourself without anyone knowing?
How do your hands pull your own trigger?
How long can spiders plough you into nonexistence?
How long do you think you can keep your silence?

How can I exchange recklessness for temperance?
How can I bury my trespasses?
How can I prevent the death of forgiveness?
How can I even begin?

[mr_pikachu]

Thanks for replying, everyone. I really appreciate it.


Ada: Well, I was talking about the sheer length, to be honest. A 300+ line poem just seemed a little long for the Poetry Corner. But nonetheless, I see what you mean.

It's odd... this was both really hard and really easy to write. I mean, once I started, the words just flowed. I barely even had to think about them. But it was still hard because... well... it hurt. Every word was a reminder of the reality.

At any rate, thanks for your concern. I appreciate you recognizing the fragility of it. Or maybe it's the fragility of me. Either way, thanks. *hugs*


Gavin: Thanks, man. You know, I honestly didn't think it would be so obvious that this was real. But thank you for noticing the vulnerability of it, real or fictional.


Weasel: I was in tears when I was writing it, too.

I'm glad the whole stream-of-consciousness thing was effective. It's not one of my usual techniques, but I may try it again in the future.

I guess writing this was cathartic, in a way. It's something that I've had bottled up for far too long. *hugs*


Martin: Thanks for the compliment. I didn't expect that this was such an easy piece with which to empathize; it was more just for the whole emotion of it. Maybe I should use topics like that more often.

As for the well wishes... thanks. I may or may not need them.


CEB: Thanks, man. As I told Martin, I'm a little surprised at the ease with which people can relate to this, especially considering the specificity of certain aspect. And as for the falling to pieces aspect... I guess you caught a sense of what I've been feeling.


Again, thanks for your replies.

[mistysakura]

Time to comment...

Zcade0/ Ryan Riverside, I guess: Reading can be Dangerous was an entertaining read. The repetition of the same scenari played out on differnet people reinforced the spookiness, although it did get a bit long. It was especially haunting how different members of the family were pursuer and pursued, villain and innocent. The structure was nice and simple which suited the narrative style; the rhyming seemed forced at times though, especially when resorting to using contractions like "killin'" to rhyme with "villain". Used well, rhyming doesn't stick out, but improves the flow and sound of the poem.

Gavin: I never thought I'd see you in here. Hehe I hope you're slowly being converted.

Woman of the Earth: mm, this is what I was talking about earlier. I love the sonnet rhyming scheme, and the way you've used it here really makes the poem flow and stick together. It's a great form for describing natural beauty (or I guess lack thereof). I didn't get what the poem was about at first; got to the middle, started rereading, and began to understand. Anyway, the poem has some good dramatic word choices and conveys a great respect for the earth (referring to it as 'you' was a good choice). I also liked how the rain was portrayed as the enemy, the destroyer, and yet it was hoped for (the narrator's wish, if I interpret it correctly?) The last two lines made a strong conclusion (once again, the couplet did help), a different perspective. The first line seemed a bit out of place though; I don't know, like it was there because you had written thirteen lines and needed another to make it fit the form. I was also confused with line 10, but then again understanding every word of a work has never been my forte; I usually just understand what I can and guess the rest.

Daimler: Well, I understand this poem, I guess, to the extent that you want me to understand it. The sentences are simple enough, but I get the feeling that as with all personal poems, after reading it I'm still missing something. Because real/ semi-fictional people can't be wrapped up nicely in sixteen lines. And you're not writing it for an audience but for yourself, so you want to write about what's important, not spend time explaining it to an audience. (I know I'm assuming a lot here, but hey you said it was cathartic, so I guess it's based on something in real life.) So that's my excuse for being confused (what/who is (a) Daimler?). Anyway, once again very striking word choices, making the poem a strong statement (despite there being no answers. I guess sometimes it's asking the right questions that requires strength.) I especially like lines 6-7 and 12-14. In terms of the sound of the poem, the rhythm sounds perfectly like prose, and when I try to read it aloud I get stuck on words. Meh. Doesn't mean it's not good in its own right. There's this change in attitude in stanza 4, and I didn't even notice this until the third reading or so, but changing from 'you' to 'I' in that stanza was well done to highlight that change. Meaning-wise, of course, I don't understand. I particularly liked the last line because although it was the end of the poem it was about a new beginning, which provided some hope in an otherwise downward-spiralling situation.

... that took a ridiculously long time.

[mistysakura]

I'd normally edit this in, but since the above post was comments on other fics and this is my own... feel free to argue with me.

The Artist

You waltzed onto my canvas
Brightened up my world
Just for one moment, just one day
You left me without a trace
No photograph to prove you were real
But I can dream

I'm a painter and my eyes won't let you go, no
Splashes of colour and you face me again
A stroke a day brings your portrait to perfection
But under the layers

I can't tell if I'm portraying your true likeness
Are you just another one of my creations?
Do I feel for one I've brought into existence?
Am I just a victim of my imagination?

You leaped onto my empty page
Told me things I'd never heard
One conversation, just one day
You left me only with words
Not written down, they echoed in my ears
They make me dream

I'm a writer and my words won't let you go, no
Pages of journals bring you to life again
Stanzas merge into poetry, anthologies
But in between the lines

Have I changed your essence beyond recognition?
Are you real, or just another work of fiction?
Am I fooled by one I've lied into existence?
Am I just a victim of my imagination?

I can't hide in a fairytale forever
I jsut want an escape from this confusion
Though it hurts, I need your truth to set me free
I wish not for your love, but your return
To burn down my creations, expose my illusions
My true feelings for an unreal you

Let me shed my tears for loving an imitation
Stand reality against my work of fiction
I twisted you into a false existence
I'm a victim, a fool for my imagination

May I paint myself with feet firmly planted on the ground
Someday I'd like to know the real you.

Disclaimer: eh, if I said this was 100% fiction I'd be lying. But most if it isn't personal experience. 'You' isn't any particular person either, but an amalgamation of a whole lot of experiences.

I forgot to say that this is a song. It's by far the most 'normal', down-to-earth, unpretentious, and yet somewhat girly and stupid thing I've written. But I like it for some reason. It was fun to write. Except the bridge (? the thing with six lines, anyway) is weak (I've rewritten it about seven times already... argh) and so are a couple of lines. The idea came to me just as I was getting to bed, and I just had to stay up and finish it. This will be arranged and recorded with my trusty mp3 player some time as well; I imagine it with acoustic guitar but I don't have one and can't play one, so... oh yeah, Rain Eternal's arrangement is done, I just need to practise and record it.

Influences: A lot of Missy Higgins, quite a bit of (gasp) Avril Lavigne(thank goodness not lyric-wise), a tiny bit of Delta Goodrem and Killing Heidi. Also Just Words and Daimler.

[Gavin Luper]

Ada: Well, I had to comment back. I didn't feel like explaining the poems at the time, but I'm more in the mindset to do that now.

Woman of the Earth - You pretty much got the idea of this one. That's the first sonnet I've done and it was a challenge, so I'm glad it mostly worked out okay. It was, as you said, about natural beauty: I was comparing the beauty of nature and the beauty of females, both of which I find fascinating (without sounding like a loser!). The poem's about how you have something beautiful, but you think, 'you know what, this could be better if it was changed like this' ... and the next thing you know, you get your wish and you go, 'shit - what have I done?' There's a bit more to it, I suppose, but that's the idea at the core of the whole thing.

Daimler - I still don't feel like talking much about this one. It really was (or is) intensely personal and also very black. That seems the best way to describe it. But thanks for letting me know your thoughts on it, because that helped me. As for your question: consider Daimler to be either a place or a process, I don't know which. It's a bit abstract but it makes sense to me.

(Mate - I sound like a sap. Who'd have thought I'd be writing poetry or lyrics or thoughts like that voluntarily?)

Now, to The Artist - I really liked this. It definitely isn't as dark and pensive as some of your other poems, but it still sounds like it suits you, and evokes a realistic mood of introspection. It really did feel like it was a song, too, and not just a poem. I really loved the idea of painting something and realising that your own imagination had kind of tainted that image, rearranged the reality of what had actually happened.

I also thought I felt the Missy Higgins vibe - weirdly, the "You leaped onto my empty page" reminded me of "You breathed infinity into my world", from Higgins' "They Weren't There". Also, the same line reminded me of "Miss You" by Killing Heidi, so the girly influences seemed present for me, even if these songs didn't have anything to do with the actual creation of your poem.

And I also have to express my undying love for you, seeing as you referenced both Daimler AND Killing Heidi as influences! Haha. Could I be so rude as to ask which song/s in particular influenced "The Artist"? ^^ Yeah, I'm a bit too much of a fan, but oh well.

Cheers!

[mistysakura]

Hehe, you sap. Welcome to the world of poetry. Nah, really, I reckon there's something about poetry that makes people talk about things in ways they wouldn't normally, dig into their emotions in ways they wouldn't normally. Which makes them sound like melodramatic emos a lot of the time. It magnifies the emotional side of people even if it doesn't usually show. Unless they're a psychopath or something. Although apparently Mao was a decent poet in his early years. Now I'm going totally off-topic.

The Killing Heidi songs that influenced me? You know what, I can't name them either. With them it wasn't so much direct influence, but when I was writing I could hear the music playing in my head and bits of it were very much in the Killing Heidi style. No, actually, I do remember one song sticking out lyrically: Summer Long. But I can tell you that the Missy Higgins songs were 100 Round the Bends and Scar (both so influential that when I actually do the melody properly I'll have to dig myself out of a plagiarism hole), and for Avril Lavigne it was Things I'll Never Say and My Happy Ending.

[Gousuto-chan]

Here's something I had to write for a Creative Writing course last semester. It was an ode, and we could write about anything. I wrote about my Gameboy Color.

Ode to Atomic Purple

Under my bed I find you
with apologies I dust you off
How long has it been, old friend?
Years ago I would've been ashamed
to leave you carelessly on my dirty bedroom floor.
I remember those days fondly
My childhood now locked inside your translucent casing
whiling away hours and batteries
my eyes fixed on your fantastic 8-bit screen
The tapping of the A button keeps
a prevalent tempo which echos through my home
Nothing else is of consequence
Just one more level
just one more level
Child, come eat your dinner
Hold on, just let me save--the siren call of my youth
Oh Atomic Purple
You are a window into the wonders of technology
chips and wires abound below your invincible surface
tempting me to defile you with a screwdriver
But I have too much respect and I'm busy right now
Just one more level

[Gavin Luper]

Ada: Yeah, this poetry thing is quite odd ... but I'm finding it cathartic. I love Summer Long too, lyrically but also the breezy sound of that song is so lazy.

Gousuto-chan: I never thought I'd see Game Boys and poetry mix. But there you go. ^^ I thought it worked quite well, too; I really enjoyed the refrain of 'just one more level'. And the need to save before doing chores - man, that rings a bell from way back.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

OK, I wrote this kind of randomly. It was actually just a stream of consciousness thing I wrote to get some things outside of me, but I kind of made it into 'lyrics'. Though this would make a very disorganised song indeed. I would imagine this to be something like a distorted version of "Joining You" by Alanis Morissette (at least in terms of mood), without a chorus. Nothing rhymes or probably even has any rhythm in this, it really was just a free writing kind of thing.

EDIT: Took out the "and also" ... feels like it flows better, as Ada said.

Beware Poisons

You’re like a bigger version of me
and I can see you anytime I want
without a mirror and I can make you
become a better me
‘cause that’s what I use you for
and you’re okay with that or at least you were for a bit,
but either way it scared me right back
and now I just hope I keep it to myself
and I won’t walk into your house and see
your folks discussing me and how sad it is that I went wrong.

When I come face to face with you
and I’m in a mood
it all just melts away
and I suspend reality
as I leave my tongue behind
with my old school and everything I used to say and still do,
because it’s too hard to maintain
and everyone needs to de-stress now and then
everyone needs to de-stress sometimes
I just do it in a way that happens to be slowly killing me that’s all.

Well it’s sickening to watch
especially for you but sometimes
I find that sickening is glamorous
and it helps me get through
but I know you can’t see inside my head
so I won’t even try to explain what drove me to this beast in the first place
and why I still let it consume me
and suck me dry
sometimes I wish I were stronger
sometimes I wish I could get away from myself for a while without involving poisons.

[mistysakura]

Gousuto-chan: Ah, you're tapping into our collective childhood memories... I had a translucent white one, and you could see all the electronics in it, and I was always tempted to take it apart except I was scared I wouldn't be able to put it back together again. I liked the poem because it resonated with me, brought back some good times. I liked the repetition of 'just one more level', and how it applied both to the past you and the present you, rediscovering the games.

Gavin: I can totally relate to writing random stuff to get it out of my head. Yeah this is a pretty disorganised thing, but it doesn't matter... it starts sorting itself out as it goes, which is nice to see. I like the last line of each stsanza; they're all strong statements, sort of recognising the problem but resigned to it in some way. The last one bothers me a bit though; maybe it's the "and also", but something makes it sound almost like an afterthought. Also, the first stanza confuses me, but that doesn't matter either. With the second stanza, I can relate to the need to stop keeping up appearances, just de-stress and be myself for a change (if I can even find that).

Me? I just carry everything around with me, which gets tiresome sometimes (see Lose Control, Evanescence) but I prefer it to the alternative.

[darktyranitar]

This following poem is basically based on Sabaton's Metal Machine. Notice a pattern here?

Yup, there's fic titles in here! See if you can find all 38 of them (counting out the one that are repeated more than once; be aware that one line may contain more than one title).

Wrath of Fire

Make a move
It’s the war of the forum
Kingdom heartless come;
Scattered light
An end to reason
The origin of storm

Oh, a bloody sword
And a fast paced fic;
And now an even bloodier sword
I’m guilty by design

It’s the wrath of fire
To those who still care
The demon inside
Moitié Moi-même;
It’s the wrath of fire
Do avoid water
Sooner or later
You’ll be warped and broken

Dear Katie
The punchy punchy Pokemon said
“Kachi wo Sagashite”
I know you’re thinking, “just tell me why!”
Who will save me?
I’m lost in the haze
Alone with the maiden (fish)

The word Kitt and Katt
Is tattooed on the silent man
By chance, is he experiencing metamorphosis
Or has he gone DP?

It’s the wrath of fire
Screams of pains
From the Pokemon master league
It’s all part of the divinity;
It’s the wrath of fire
We are The I Syndicate
The knights to remember;
It’s the wrath of the fire
The absolution’s reign
A sanctuary… the symmetry…

[Houndoom_Lover]

Sung to Meet Virginia. You know, that song by Train. ^-^
-----------------------

He doesn’t own a dress
Hair is always a mess
You catch him stealin’ and he won’t confess
He’s beautiful
Works his packs everyday, wait that’s Goku, but anyway
He doesn’t care about that, hey, he think he’s beautiful
Meet Vegeta
He never compromises
Hates babies and surprises
Wear Leotards when he exercises, ain’t it beautiful?
Meet Vegeta
When he wants to be the king
He just goes Super Sayain
His hair starts glowin’ as he screams
He really wants to be the king
Dad was a Sayain King, Mom’s been dead since chapter one
Brother is a fine hero of planet Earth
Here he is on the Phone just like you
It’s the real thing
He hates to sit at home, unless it’s Sunday
Meet Vegeta
When he wants to live his life
He just thinks about his wife
Hair starts glowing as he screams
I don’t really wanna die
No die - I don’t really wanna die- no die
He only drinks Millers at midnight
The moment is not right
His timing is quiet unusual
His confidence is tragic
But karate like magic
In the shape of a fist
Painful
Meet Vegeta
I don’t wanna
Meet Vegeta (Heeey,hey,heey)
When he wants to be the King
He just goes Super Sayain
When he wants to live his life
He just thinks about his wife
Hair starts growing as he screams
I don’t really want him to be a king
I don’t really want him to be a king
I don’t want him to be a king
I really don’t wanna die

[mistysakura]

So:

Make a move, War of the forums, Kingdom heartless, Scattered lights, An end to reason, The origin of storms, Bloody sword, A fast paced fic, Bloodier sword, Guilty by design, To those who still care, Demon inside, Avoid water, Sooner or later, Warped and broken, Dear Katie, The punchy punchy Pokemon, “Kachi wo Sagashite”, Just tell me why, Lost in the haze, The maiden (fish), Kitt and Katt, Tattooed, The silent man, Chance, Metamorphosis, Gone DP, Screams of pain, The Pokemon master league, Divinity, The I Syndicate, Knights to remember, Absolution’s reign, Symmetry = 34 fics I recognise. Not bad. That was a fun read.

Anyway, a remake of Death Sonnet -- Untitled and Solitude. I tried to expand more on stuff in Solitude this time, because I agree with Brian that last time everything was a bit rushed.

Tightrope

Suspended, we tread a precarious path:
We play at life; death, in ambush, awaits.
“It must be so,” we whisper, yet the wrath,
In our delusions, leaves unscathed our fates.

Behold the crafted marble monolith –
Stroke the cool white surface ‘neath our skin.
Bouquets of flowers sweetly blooming, with
Six feet between them and the corpse within.

But yet, at times the scythe doth strike a blow,
The chill so close we shiver in its wake.
Our tears, etched with mascara, freely flow;
They sleep alone, their vision turned opaque.

The tightrope holds; eternities away
The abyss seems; yet one heartbeat astray…



Solitude

Some choices are forever,
like being alone.

Wandering
a metropolis, tracing a path
unique, unknown to all
save accidental strangers
straying into sudden, intimate presence.
A mumbled ‘Sorry’, as scruffy sneaker tumbles
over polished leather. Unheard apology
fading into nothing, leaving once again
a cloak of safe anonymity.

A date
on a table for one,
savouring silence free from squabbles
over bill-paying alternatives.
Dining at one’s leisure, the tongue
relishing every succulent bite,
the ears unobstructed by endless chatter.
Every sense focussing
the stillness the silence the wafting aroma the heat the juiciness
salt and pepper are company enough in this meditation.

Walking home
alone in darkness,
rejecting the advances of the night
its smoke-filled dance floors
crowded with mingling strangers.
Doing away with the art
of "How do you do?"
"Nice weather today."
"And, um, so..." mock conversation
struggling mid-sentence.
Apparently uncaring, grasping
the impermanence of the spoken word.

Company is overrated.

So are 'choices' -- merely synonymous with 'habits'.
Some habits never die.

[darktyranitar]

Hehe. I had fun making that one too. Anyway, I made a mistake: it's actually 37 fic title in it (I mistake Wrath of Fire for my first fic - Dragon Flame - when it is actually the original title for the aforementioned fic. Moitié Moi-même was a fic by Toxicity that got deleted when TPM moved, and Who Will Save Me? is a one shot by Bulbasaur4 that is written way when TPM was in Ezboard (or something like that)

By the way, good poem, Ada. I enjoyed it.

[mistysakura]

Thanks, Faiz! Glad you liked it.

Finally, the song Rain Eternal is done. The bugger took eight hours to record and mix (damn computer programs screwing audio up). The best thing about the recording is easily the gorgeous Steinway and Sons the piano part was recorded on (yay to university resources), as opposed to the dodgy mp3 player it was recorded with (great player, but not exactly stellar recording equipment). I'm happy with the melody and the arrangement (although most of it's 'let's throw in whatever random notes we can think of!'), and I'm pretty happy with the lyrics as well. It's when they're put together that problems arise. The music's distinctly... girly. Weak. Argh. Although that could just be the voice. It might work better with a boy singing. And the less said about my pianoa dn vocal 'expertise' the better.

Have a listen: http://audio.xanga.com/mistysakura/d...722/audio.html Please don't sue me for hearing damage.

Any comments, criticisms, musical bashing greatly appreciated. Be as harsh as you like.

[dratinihaunter13]

Wow, first of all congrats on "completing" something like this. Had to take a lot of work and do-overs, so that alone's impressive.

Haha, I like how the end got hard and staccato but it kinda came outta nowhere from the haunting tone for most of the song. there are parts where the piano gets harder and the voice more strained, but if those parts were made more staccato then the end could still have that sudden-ness but with a nice callback to earlier, similar parts.

i like the female voice here, more than a male voice i'd say. it's quiet on this recording though, especially in the beginning compared to the piano (which sounds gorgeous). with sound editing i think just bumping up the volume of the vocals would make the song stronger. that and adding in a periodic half-bar or so of staccato.

i think most people here knew you were a talented writer but now this? dang.. well done

[Gavin Luper]

Wow, Ada. Wow.

Firstly, what Martin said on the congrats.

Secondly - just whoa. I listened to it while reading the lyrics (I see you make some edits) so it was really enjoyable. I really liked the music and I think it really does work all together. I think if a boy was doing the singing it would end up possibly a bit too layered or something, maybe too heavy, like it would need heavier music with a male voice or something. I do agree that with more advanced recording or mixing the vocals could be slightly louder, but not too much. It doesn't sound weak, just gentle.

Anyway - I thought it was really cool that you kept working on this and showed us the result. Well done. It's quite an achievement, I reckon.

[mistysakura]

Martin: see, shameless plugging does work! Thanks for replying, and thanks heaps especially for the comments. Mm, actually the end does seem a bit out of place. It sounded perfectly fine in my head... maybe I'll just end it with a repeat of the starting bit, that would be more fitting and haunting. Actually... I just thought of something I could do! Cool. Yeah a bit more dynamics and contrast would be good too. I think the female voice suits the music better, but for the lyrics I don't know. It is supposed to be about war and all that, but I see they're really soft for that anyway.

Gavin: Thanks for replying without shameless plugging! Mm, the music would need a different spin for a male voice, yes. I'd probably make it more direct and use no layering. About the volume of the vocals, I could actually fix that easily; the software does let me do that (I cheated most of the dynamics, hehe).

... I didn't think it was that great an achievement... people write songs all the time...

[Gavin Luper]

... I didn't think it was that great an achievement... people write songs all the time...

True, but not many record them. I've certainly never seriously considered it. So it seems like a cool thing to have done.

[Shadow Wolf]

Hi everyone!

Well, I've been around reading stories and other things, and I thought that maybe, I could be part of this.

About this piece: this is something I made to see if I have some skills at writing, because it's been a long time since I wrote something. I made this in half an hour, and I decided to make very lillte changes, because I want to read your opinions. I hope that you enjoy it.

Memories

Questions breathing
Sounds you’re hearing
Never stopping
Always beating
Gives you joy
Makes you sad
Some are good
Others bad

Flash of images
Dance of words
Happy ending
Not at all
Greatest prank
Hardest fall
Fight on bank
Pick the call

Found the love
The first kiss
Did not work
Learn your miss
No regrets
Light of hope
Try again
Grab the rope

Once again
Hear the bond
Down the river
Through the pond
All the flow
That they hold
Just a blow
Leaves you cold

That’s the way
Memories are
But today
Store away
‘till next time

[Goodnight Seadra]

Mistysakura: Hehe, nice song! ^^ Really love the lyrics and music. That's good that you put a lot of effort into it!

Well, posting here a poem that I finished a few minutes ago. For some reason I was on a poetry mood tonight. XD This poem might not be great so it could be the chance I might rewrite it. Well, hope you enjoy.

Two Cities

One city is perfect in every way.
Everyone waves and says hi,
Helps and cares.
No crimes and jokes,
Lies and dramas.
-I always visit there.

One city is not perfect.
Everyone cries and kicks,
Shouts and trembles.
No apologies and hugs,
Truths and returns.
-I am always there.

One city always makes me smile.
One city always makes me stronger.
-That city can be stronger.


To not make this explanation long, it is basically about the mentality of someone. Yes, going in our little world can make us happy, but won't last forever. Eventually we have to face those 'bad days' in the real world and in order for us to get through it, we have to make ourselves get stronger, get used to and improve our mentality of the problems we have.

I hope I made sense O.o;;;.

[mistysakura]

Don't worry, you make perfect sense. More sense than I ever do. Actually, when I read the poem, I thought it was about perspective -- how one city is all happy and perfect and one city isn't, but from a different perspective the imperfect city is equally valued because it teaches you to be stronger. But your explanation makes just as much sense. I like the simplicity of the poem, how it's so sure of what it's saying and how it doesn't have to hide behind big words. I like how it's all symmetric as well. I thought 'or' would have sounded better than 'and' in lines 4-5 and 10-11 though, because 'and' is generally more positive, used for things you have.

Yep, I enjoyed it.

[Gavin Luper]

I quite liked your poem, Goodnight Seadra. I liked the use of contrast because that's a technique I like to use, too. Though I admit I didn't get the intended meaning of "Two Cities" until I read your notes at the end.

Ada - I really liked the reworkings of your two poems. The death sonnet - "Tightrope" now - was beautiful - I can't even remember if I read it properly the first time, or even if I knew how to read a sonnet at that stage. In any case, I found it really evocative: your use of imagery worked superbly in evoking the meaning. I admit, though, I faltered with the rhythm on the last line - might've been the semi-colon that threw me off, or the word 'abyss'. That might've just been my limited experience with reading sonnets though; on the whole, it was very good.

"Solitude" was very atmospheric too, and kind of resigned to that loneliness, or something. Maybe that's just my reading of it.

*********

Anyway: I've written another "poem", though I'm tentative about calling it poetry, I don't know why. It kind of proceeds from the questions asked in Daimler (or maybe just the last one), but not exactly, and that's not how I thought of it when I wrote it; and the "answers" are more choices than anything. It's quite structured, too, though I wonder if maybe it might take a couple of readings before it becomes clear what's being said. Though this was intensely personal, towards the end I felt like I wasn't just writing for myself, at least not entirely (maybe that's presumptuous or pretentious, but I don't think it is a terrible stretch). In any case, it helped a lot to write this.

The Choices

You could divulge your deepest darkest
You could be as honest as the day you were born
You could see the utter revulsion in their faces
You could realise there are worse things than disgust

You could talk about your clinical vexations
You could admit to needing some kind of help
You could be called a weak excuse for a man
You could realise there are worse things than unmanly

You could do away with your coping mechanisms
You could stop saying what you think you ought to
You could stop numbing yourself when challenged
You could realise there are worse things than feelings

You could accept what's beyond your control
You could be OK with all parts of yourself
You could be called names by everyone you know
You could realise there are worse things than judgement

You could drink yourself into a nightly stupor
You could sedate yourself with untold female pleasures
You could build yourself a hard courageous body
You could remain strapped to adolescent crutches
You could remain fearful of your feelings and processes
You could become unusually stoic and reticent
You could isolate yourself and be isolated
You could never ask yourself another question
You could go mad from endless uncertainty
You could burn with shame amassed since age 14
You could take all your secrets to an early grave
You could realise nothing at all.

[Shadow Wolf]

This is another short piece I made. I hope to keep working on it to make it better, altough I feel like I shouldn't keep making poetry.

A poem for the world

I give the best of me, in order to create
A poem for the world, a masterpiece with fate.
I wish with all my heart, to make the strongest piece,
To put the stars on earth and bring the love with ease.
I wish I could impress the readers of the world
With power to steal stress with every single word.
I want to use my rhymes in union with my soul,
To spread the faith and hope from Washington to Seoul.
I wish to make a piece for someone to enjoy,
To fill a person’s life with happiness and joy.



Haven't you ever felt like words have the power to change the world?

[dratinihaunter13]

something i spit up just now
--

The best decision I've ever made will make me unhappy
Nonsensicals fingerfuck my synapses
I have to do something
Dragging myself, I claw for support familiar
But loveholds shift to sand and -

and I arch back into a snarling loneliness
All I have is my decision, and I guard it like a wild animal mother
No one can backhand me hard enough
Before I stalk off never to be seen again
Only heard from.

[mistysakura]

Gavin: mm, I agree that the flow of the couplet doesn't work. It's definitely because of the semi-colon, which broke up the lines unnaturally. On the one hand, I think it makes the lines sound more hesitant and uncertain; on teh other hand, it doesn't fit well with the rest of the poem. Eh, I'll make up my mind on that.


About Choices, I know what you mean when you sya that by the end of something, you're writing for more than yourself. It's like you've discovered some truth, some new understanding in the process of writing it, and by writing you hope others might see a little glimmer of it too. I don't think that's presumptuous; hey, it's just your take on things, right? About the actual poem, I found it extremely powerful. The structure really helped; normally that degree of repetition would annoy me, but is this case it reinforces the multitude of choices you have. The way I see it, the first four stanzas have a more concrete structure and they show an attempt at reasonable analysis, but in the fifth stanza that all goes down the drain and all the choices are just tumbling from your mind and there's all this chaos... until the last line. Which I see as a statement that it's better at least to have learned something from this confusion than to have realised nothing.

Um, yeah.

shinypkmnchaser: Of course words have power to change the world. It might be a more subtle change than, say, a peace treaty, but... what are peace treaties made of? And the people who write peace treaties, where do you think they got their vision of peace from? Words. Something someone once said to them, something they read somewhere. Perhaps something they've experienced which they haven't directly put into words... but it will affect everything they write. So don't stop writing poetry, dude.

I like the optimism in your poem. I thought the flow in particular was good,a dn the use of regular metre helped with that. Some of the rhymes felt a bit icky though; for example, when I read 'from Washington to Seoul' my first thought was 'you just chose that to rhyme, didn't you?' I like a poem where every word has its importance and isn't there just to rhyme or fill out metre (hehe, been guilty of that too many times). Overall, good job though.

Martin: Yay, new writing from you! I must say that I don't really get this one... but then again, I don't get a whole heap of stuff, so don't mind me. I sense there's something about the duality between loneliness and engagement, but that's about it. I like the imagery though, adn the choice of words which gives the narrator's actions a wildness and almost feralness. I really like the imagery of lovehonds shifting to sand and everything slipping away. The first line doesn't seem to fit with the rest of the poem though, in terms of tone and stuff.

[Chris 2.1]

Deadline

Why do they call it a deadline?
Why?
I don't want to be dead when I reach the finish line;
I don't want a line drawn around me when I'm dead,
I certainly don't want to sweat out my work so as to collapse down, dead, exhausted from tapping and clapping all night.
What sort of 'line' is that to aspire to? It's already dead.
I'm going to call it a lifeline,
Because when I meet my 'line'
I'd like to think
I have some life left.

[Gavin Luper]

I quite liked your 'Deadline' poem, Chris. Quite ironic or something. I can totally relate to ... all of it. Damn uni work. Hehe.

I enjoyed 'A Poem for the World', too - I reckon a lot of writers wish they could actually achieve something with their words, whether it's a feeling or a thought within another person. Actually, maybe all writers want that. Why else would we make anything we write viewable to other people?

Martin: OK, I thought that was a really good poem. The first time I read it I didn't really get it - maybe I still don't - but I've warmed to it more now. I thought the first two lines were kick arse. Just ... awesome. The rest of the piece was pretty vague, to be honest, like I'm missing all the important information. Maybe it works better that way, though, so the reader can project their own interpretations onto it. "Dragging myself, I claw for support familiar" - I really liked the weakness and desperation of that line. And "no one can backhand me hard enough" = awesome.

OK, here's something we had to do in one of our workshops at uni - write a pantoum, which (for those who haven't heard of it before, cause I know I hadn't) is a poem utilising certain conventions of repetition to effect some meaning. This feels like a slightly soulless poem, because it's not personal - we were told to write ten random lines of poetry and then use them in a certain way. So it's a bit detached.

White

White like her grandmother's bones
She's been told she must be
To kick up charcoal dust in her wake
Black as night, hammers the final nail

She's been told she must be
As a child, all pigtails and fair skin
Black as night, hammers the final nail
Those branches from which her brothers swung

As a child, all pigtails and fair skin
The drizzle clears among the yews
Those branches from which her brothers swung
She burns so easily in the sun

The drizzle clears among the yews
The hated porcelain tears run
She burns so easily in the sun
A scornful statue in the shade

The hated porcelain tears run
She's been told she must be
A scornful statue in the shade
White like her grandmother's bones.

[Toxicity]

In a weird way, I like your poem, Gavin. Makes me think of the icicles left over from a long winter being washed away by a warmer spring rain. Maybe because it's spring for you in Aussieland, even if it's autumn here?

As for myself, I bet it's a shock to see me posting here, at least in this thread. But later on (read: mid-to-late senior year) I realized that my better subjects were the ones with which I could think and create, and figured I wasn't so bad. Although maybe I could work beyond having a lot of personal aspects that would influence said creativity.

And on the note of personal incidents and creativity, this was something I put together after a recent series of conversations with who I have to consider the best "in real life" friend I've ever had. For those who don't know me "well enough," I'll explain it without revealing too much: there's as many similarities as there are differences; even then, we both manage to get along well and know each other well - maybe too well.

I can find this strangely relative to Daimler and The Choices, also by Gavin. Also, there's two sides "voiced" in this work, albeit irregularly (and not one "stanza" speaks for just one side). If you do manage to determine which side is voiced where, you'll be rewarded with one free internet.

That One Day
Tell me a story
Like old times
You know what I mean
Where we were joined in laughter
when we weren't joined in tears
Even without tears?

You know that when I say this
I'm not pushing you away
It's only the shock because
It's just not the same
This new-found distance
But you know that when I can
If I can
I'd take what I would've gained
And give it back
Just to be around you again
That one day

Believe me; it's not entirely my fault
The days aren't the same
Long, irregular clocks
Much unlike the simplicity of before
I know what you mean
Even when I'm sitting
Waiting
I know I'll probably not see you
Unless I try

The sacrifices are a bit of the same
Yet you shouldn't be worrying
I know, yet I'm willing
It's all I have left to try
When here it's as if
I'm not trying at all

I remember seeing you in mornings
Drifting, barely there
Sometimes it seemed like only I
Could bring you back to your feet
And I thank you for that
Yet in some oddly similar way
You always chose to go into that river
The rainbow fish
In a stream of royalty and riches

And even then, I know it wasn't you
It was a lifeless tree, small and coated black
Her thin branches keeping those she caught
Close to her, and clinging elate
Keeping you closer after letting me go
I wanted to escape; this I told always
And when she was finally uprooted
I didn't know that it was too late

It's behind us now
Shouldn't be that big of a concern
And even then, I still can't help but worry
Will we ever actually see each other again?
Hear that timid voice?
The unusual comfort of a simple hold?
Scary enough, I admit to feeling the same
Although you have your issues
And I've got mine

How have you been?
I've just been in thought
Maybe too much thought
Like I assured you
Don't worry; I'll be okay
Even if I've been heading downward since departure
It'll be all put aside
That one day

[mistysakura]

Chris: Nooo! Deadlines! Hehe, I reckon they're deadlines because we're dead if we don't meet them. I love your take on them though. We're working so hard to meet deadlines, but what's the point if we can't take a breath of fresh air after?

Gavin: I guess I see what you're saying about it being a soulless poem because you were basically told to do things a certain way. But I reckon it'scool to experiment with stuff like that, and if it gets incorporated into future writing it will have the effect and not be soulless. I really like the poem though; I like the feeling that everything's linked to everything else, the frustration that keeps going round and round, the links to the past, the imagery... And I like how 'she's' static, a statue, being told what she must be, and there's all this action going on around her. I must say, I'm lost as to what the poem's trying to say though, although I feel like I should because everything's so concretely laid out and the repetition's screaming "look at me, can't you see what I'm saying? At least the second time round?"

Toxicity: I really like how you've portrayed this relationship. The distance between them now (well, I suppose not distance, but something's changed) and what I see as this thing that's happened between them that they're dancing around and not talking about. I didn't see that there were two sides being voiced though; it wasn't obvious to me, probably because I don't have all the background info. I like the image of the long, irregular clocks (anything to do with Dali?) and the rainbow fish.

[Master of Paradox]

A poem inspired by YouTube, of all things...

Today
I saw someone
Complete the old X-Men arcade game
On one credit.

It impressed me and saddened me
At the same time.

Impressed me,
Because I used to play that game
All the game when we were kids
And never beat it.

Saddened me,
Because I found myself thinking,
"Wait until I tell him!"
And that was when I realized
I can't even remember
The last time we spoke.

[darktyranitar]

I do like the poem, Laura; although like Gavin, I can't really see the 2nd side. Neverthlessa, it was a good read.

This is just something that has been playing in my mind for a while now. I do think it sounds a bit like preaching... but eh.

Don’t put out the fire!

Here I am
Trying to put out the bush fire;
And I can’t forgive myself
If I were to close my eyes
And turned my head away
Letting the fire spreads
Until it becomes a wildfire;
I do detest them
The ones who started the fire,
The ones who think that
A little bit of fire
Is harmless

But no,
Not only will the fire burn them
But we, the spectators
We shall feel the heat, too;
And yet, we pretend
That the fire will not harm us
At all

The ignorant, they mocked me;
Sneering, they said,
“If you are so good,
Why should you be putting out the bush fire?
Put out the blazing fire,
Why don’t you?”
I went silent;
No, it was not that I was afraid of them
It was because I was disappointed,
Disappointed that they were so blind
To not see that the so-called “bush fire”
Had now but turn into a blazing inferno
That had stretched and reached the sky
Burning furiously

And what is this?
I hear one can retain their purity
Even after they had stained themselves;
Can’t they see that they are no different
Than an egg?
Once broken
It can never be mended

And as for the counterpart,
They think of themselves
As an onion;
It doesn’t matter
How many layer you peel
Because, in the end
The onion remains an onion

But remember,
When God said “be!”
It shall be!

Woe to us!
How much death must we see?
Do we want to see more beast
Roaming free on the street?
How much unborn lives must be taken,
In cold blood?
Tell me, is it right
To sell our honour
For the sake of progress?
Do we not fear His wrath?

So, listen to me now!
Put out the fire!
Yea, put out the fire!

[Gavin Luper]

I'm glad you found some kind of meaning or convergence in Daimler and The Choices, Toxicity. I wish I could claim a free internet, but I couldn't discern the voices in That One Day.

Okay, so, I've written something that isn't completely abstract or overly introspective or depressive. I wouldn't go as far as to call it a 'love poem', but it's vaguely in that direction, I spose. I know it probably has no rhyme or meter or anything, but I don't claim to be a good poet or anything: I was really just writing free verse kinda stuff.

Portobello Girl

There you are girl
Right out of the darkness you appeared
Emerged with a laugh on Portobello Road
Fell into step right beside me

Your deep brown eyes
Searched me for traces of similarity
Found the connection you longed for
Saw it stare you back, hard and alight

And my beer can
Accelerated the enthusiastic exchange
Of hard rock and hilarious 80s films
So unlikely in a place so untreaded

My fear left me
We crept nervously into that shared room
Sure they were all asleep or passed out now
You sweetly invited me into your bed

I roared that night
For everything that had been said against me
For the animal bursting to get free from my chest
For the sheer heat and pleasure of it all

And you were more
Than my honestly affectionate words let on
You gave me a bubble to sleep in that night
You deflected the caving in of my torturous walls

I still regret
Not kissing you by that Amsterdam canal
Where we divulged innermost philosophies
But you had your train to catch, and I mine

And your sad eyes
Linger in my troubled midnight recollections
Not unwelcome; they somehow give me hope
Knowing, once, that we existed; that we were.

[Weasel Overlord]

Hello you magical, critiquey people! Now, I'm doing something different this Christmas, that being sticking a poem I wrote on the front of homemade Christmas cards. I'm slightly worried that people will think it's pretentious or whatever, and I make no claims to like any poetry I write, but when I started with this, my brain said it should be a poem. The first verse started out entirely as a line of prose, but it nagged and kicked me until I teased it into a poem. So what I'm saying, I guess, is this: is this good enough for my entire flat of 23 people to see, as well as my rather huge family? Or should I dispose of it, only to show it to my creative writing class?

S'called:

Winter's Footsteps.

Snow falls,
like so many autumn
leaves,
blanketing the ground
with perfect pale.

All sound
dimmed and soft,
save the crunch of
Winter,
her footsteps a clear trail
in pristine snow.

[mistysakura]

You know what? Family and friends think your writing is wonderful even if it sucks. So it should be your creative writing class you're worrying about. The good news is it doesn't suck. I like it. The crisp imagery reminds me of haikus. I really like the personification of winter. The comparison of snow falling with autumn leaves bugged me though; the reference to autumn threw me totally off the wintry atmosphere.

Gavin: I get what you're saying abourt it not quite being a love poem. Usually those are more along the line of odes, but this was more about the connection you had with her. I liked it; my favourite line was "And my beer can/ Accelerated the enthusiastic exchange..." A bit brain-dead at the moment, can't come up with intelligent things to say.

Faiz: Mm, very passionate. I like the imagery of the fire and the best roaming wild. I didn't get the onion metaphor though. About the egg metaphor, is it saying that people think they can be forgiven for their sins, but that will never be?