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"Embrace your dreams."
Location: The Lifestream
Joined: Apr 03 2011
well, like I said, even if two or three people show any interest whatsoever, this would happen.
ive made this thread for you all to let your creativity go; no rules, no prerequisites, just your inspiration and what youve done with it. length is not an issue, if youve got a short story you wanna post, post it, i or someone else will give critique and offer some feedback.
also, why not use this as a way to compare styles and interests?
so post some pictures, drawn or taken, songs youve done, lyrics youve wrote, poems, short stories, novel excerpts if you have them, essays, even works you enjoy reading or seeing, or listening to by more renowned souls than ones unpublished self.
it really doesnt hurt to have a look at the middle pages if you havent lurked around this thread yet; zelda has some golden stuff posted, i have several works, as does kabuki. auri takes the prize for being clever though.
post some stuff gametabs! lookin for some original songs up in here SJ, and im still waiting on some of lemons artwork to appear :/
I'll get the ball a-rollin i spose.
this is my most recent poem, and the finished effect after several attmpts to get the scheme and atmosphere right. initially it was intended to just be my way of venting some emotions, but it ended up becoming something more than that; a story started to unfold about this girl on a journey, and her mission is to find optimism, but she ends up becoming her own symbol of optimism, just through the fact that she TRIED. it was never originally intended to be what it is now, but the finished work... it seems to me that theres something more in it beyond what it became and its initial personal value.
the finished product came out being VERY whimsicle and seemingly random, but theres a reason behind everything in it, though it isn't all explained, but the main theme and mood is VERY apparent. the mood being dark, grey-like, but touched with a small light, and it seems to me i may turn it into a series of poems, just because ive left so much room for expansion.
hope y'all enjoy!
and yes its fairly lengthy.
A Moth With Butterfly Wings
Don’t cry no more, my love don’t cry, a city drowns in your sad tears
Your drifting body stirs until a scream within ignites your fears
A thousand empty glasses hang from your paling hands
An orchestrated violin plays in these empty lands
A breath of dust and dying lights float on an empty sea
And moths that fly with colored wings will soar there just to see
And hear the breathless voice of waves and hum along their tune
About a flower that bloomed alone beneath a harvest moon
She longed to drink a silver lining, and collected many things
Among her things a cup was set and lined with colored wings
A breath of soot blown in her face marred her long white dress
Her hair was shifted in the wind and caught around her neckless
She wandered far and sought to find a dark and empty sea
The beaches lined with unlit candles and things that should not be
She cried her tears along the way and tried to fill her glass
Until a sparrow in a song fell ‘neath a moon and laughed
He played a song upon the wing, a harmony more than hymn
And played on still when his feathers fell and broke his violin
He sang of moths with butterfly wings, and trees were made of leather
And in her sleep she felt in hand a lone and silken feather
She woke from dream and lost her way, an echo in her head
Of leather trees, gray skies and wings, and clouds composed of lead
And in a meadow she watches long the stories in the sky
Where matches flicker and sparrows dance, where leaves will drift and fly
A mother tells her three young birds to bear their flame below
And shepherds them to hurry on before the wind can blow
They say to her that they have come to help her on her way
And the feather held in her pale hand gives them leave to stay
In her glass the match is set, its flame still flickering strong
And she wonders at the dream she had to find where it belonged
Along the way she found more cups, little ones were set in rings
She scoops them up and carries them along with all her things
Upon her hand the rings are worn, and in her glass a fissure
A song begins to play behind; the sparrows paint a picture
A map they claim will lead the way to things she’s never seen
Inverted hills and leaden clouds and waters never clean
A place they say will lead her then to a long and empty sea
Where the beach is lined with butterflies and things that should not be
Like unlit candles shining forth that dapple in the breeze
Where fishes talk and whisper things about the sundering seas
Behind the rocks are animals that only wish to hide
Its not enough they never left; they never even tried
The winds pick up and on her breath a mote of dust is blown
Across the land where legends die and colored moths have flown
They flew so far to witness her and tell her she’s all right
That they have come from far away to guide her through the night
The match she sees is burning fast, but the birds say not to fear
Despite their kindly words and songs her eye then sheds a tear
And in her head she hears a voice, as through a closing door
“You’re fine, I’m here, don’t cry my love, just please don’t cry no more.”
She wipes her eyes and looks below, to see an ant there dying
And on his back a paving stone, but still in death he’s trying
A roll of thunder far away lights the drifting sky
With lights like faces in pretty hues that are telling her to cry
For every tear within she weeps will fill a glass set in her rings
And the sounds that come from every ripple will make a swell of violins
A silver lining resonates the screams of all her fears
Her drifting body journeying writhes with music in her ears
The sparrows sing and dance in flight, and claim that they’ve arrived
To a beach that borders an endless sea with colors therein but not described
On the wave she watches lights, dappled in notes that pirouette
And breaths of dust that float between the oceans blink and every step
Upon the sand a million candles unlit they grin and tilt and flick
For a flame to come, ignight the light and spark their dying wick
She feels her conscious begin to slip, and holds her glass up high
And from her hands the tears she lost are swept into her eye
For the glasses dangled on her fingers, and then together struck
And in her sight she witnessed then a backwards form of luck
Blinded then she realized the feather that she found
Granted rights upon the sparrows to lead her with their sound
And so she found herself alone, a dark and empty land
With nothing left except a bottle held up to them in hand
The birds swooped low and took the match, and held it in their beaks
And all the candles on the shore were lit upon that beach
And in the sea the emptiness that was sleeping for so long
Was willed away by the lights of candles burning strong
Another hymn was being hummed, but no one paid attention
To the heightened flutter of colored wings, for the girl had reached ascension
And from the back of but one moth a lily seed was borne
And cast upon the glimmering beach from time and distant mourn
And as her body coalesced with wind and sea and time
The moths and moon began to sing of things within this rhyme
“A lonely girl will journey here, and restore the lonely earth
To the time before it was forlorn and upon it bring rebirth.
Along the way she meets a bird, and witnesses many things
Like matches floating with the snow and glasses set in rings.”
And in her mind she heard his voice, pronouncing that he’d come
And far away a raindrop falls because of what they’ve done
And now her body coexists with life and time and space
And so before her body left a tear ran down her face
It touched her cheek and met her chin, and nearly went her way
Instead it fell and caught a breeze, though it wished to stay
And falling slow toward the earth upon a whitened breeze
A raindrop falls in Wandermind and slips between the trees
The tear is taken by the wind, and misses a sparrows feather
And in its flight he paused to watch the girl evanescence forever
From the back of a lonely moth, his colored wings soon stop
And when they did a single seed began its fateful drop
The seed hits land and barely missed a candles flickering flame
And in the land of Wandermind we see the drop of rain
It strikes a leaf and slowly trickles toward its very end
Its vertice has let it fall before the tree can bend
The teardrop lands upon the sand, the grains absorb its taste
For fearful is the glassy make that never went to waste
The moisture spreads toward a place where waning candles burn
And far away a young man sleeps, his head beneath a fern
The raindrop falls so surely now, not knowing what will come
The fateful drop of shimmering rain won’t know what it has done
The young man stretches, yawns and rolls, and is sleeping on his side
And in a heaven never known is that lonely girl who cried
Her teardrop reaches a lily’s seed that fell beside a light
A candle set in sand and stone that sparkles in the night
And from that seed a lily grows beneath a harvest moon
That blossoms, welcomes, whispers, waits and whistles lovely tune
And sadly, sweetly moths with wings of lonely butterflies
Will look above and sing no more their touching lullabyes
The raindrop meets the man who sleeps beneath the color fall
And as he wakes an echo speaks the hidden wanderer’s call
The sparrows sing in harmony with the ocean’s lofty tune
As far below a lily blooms beneath the harvest moon
"i seem to be find a lot that apparently dont contain the .exe actually" -Anonymous
"Has anyone really been far as decided to use even go want to look more like?" -Pherioxus
I'm not bad...I'm just drawn that way
Location: NE Ohio
Joined: Aug 16 2010
Nah, just kidding dude. Great writing. I was never good at poems, but I can write essays no problem :P
Nah, just kidding dude. Great writing. I was never good at poems, but I can write essays no problem :P
and wiritng essays is somehting that never really came naturally to me, not like poems and short stories. i just couldnt be as visual with essays, they felt restrictive, and i enjoy pushing borders with my writing.
that being said, i did an essay on that sam dun film, metal: a headbangers journey, and it came out really well actually... but thats because i have an interest in it i think.
why dont you post up an essay youve done?
ps. theres no such thing as a bad writer, if you ahve a pen, a piece of paper, and somes words on a page that just HAD to be written there, then its a great poem, simple as that. poetry is a form of expression and relation, but they dont always go hand in hand; just because it speaks to you, doesnt mean someone else will relate to your words--case in point being what ive written there, some people would relate to it sure, but in a different way than i do.
let me ask you, what does that poem say to you? in what way if any does it relate?
Joined: Sep 06 2008
There's such a thing as a bad writer:
I love to write, but I don't usually punish people by sharing :-)
Wayfarer, if you want an example, I can show you a letter I wrote recently to someone. Give me your email.
LOL "cliffs" is like "cliff notes". :P
The reason I am probably so good at essays is I am good at bullshitting, which when you think about it, papers are saying the same thing over and over just in different ways (when you don't have enough material to meet the requirements, usually the case).
What did I get from it though? eh, it definitely took me to a very dreamy place in my imagination, and I would guess it was about the transition from life to death, or becoming part of nature?
perfect. awesome explanation.
its written to be about the search for optimism, but as i said, its open to expansion, thus everything and anything someone else sees in it, is just a hidden theme that was unintentionally intended. my works are based on the subconcious; menaing everything learned is entered into ones brain somewhere, and i play on the fact that everyones brain and mentality operates differently but yet operates on the same wavelength.
Again dude, it's very well written.
Location: Sacramento, CA
Joined: Aug 13 2007
I'm normally not into poems that was really nice. To me the poem seems to direct towards what we are meant to live for. This girl seemed so sad and lonely, but with her grief she was able to give life to the Lily (if I'm not mistaken). It's like how in life we might not give something much thought and then that very thing ends up being what we truly need. Again, sometimes the best things in life for us are what we think about the least.
EDIT: I'm not exactly sure what the Sparrow means, though.
without the sparrows shed never have been able to light the candles.
but thats touching on one of my more in-depth meanings. if you get it sure, but i dont really want to explain it haha.
but you relate to it in much the same way as i do, and youve understood my main point perfectly
There's such a thing as a bad writer:
I love to write, but I don't usually punish people by sharing :-)
post something auri!
Joined: Feb 11 2010
Onde mirate che’l suon producete,
col magico legno che vi lancia sì forte
per l’aere dolce librando movete
diffuse sì ampie in la sublim corte.
Al par degli uccelletti seco adduce
lo bel tempo musica in ciel turchino;
sinfonia armonica piena di luce
così sublim d’accecar lo mastino.
Ah! Potessi nutrir l’animo di costei
col dolce suon che ogni cuor rende onesto
al pari mittendo nobil con plebei.
Così ritrovommi solo et pensoso
a suonar con l’amor che molto è molesto.
Convertirti a tal passion ahimè non oso.
...Oh wait! this is italian D=
thanks for your contribution anyways.
Joined: Sep 27 2009
hey wayfarer that was really good poem you made there! in the third paragraph (stanza?) when you wrote neckless, did you mean necklace?
i like how it was very descriptive, you paint the picture of how everything looks and moves well, giving the poem a surreal quality as i read it and my imagination followed along. i also had to look up the word pirouette, so thats what that move in ballet is called, i thought it was just "spin" hehe.
as for the meaning of the poem what i get from it is that everyone goes through rough patches in their lives and when they do they are searching for answers and solace, and the sparrows are the people, friends and family that they have around to help them in their journey as support and guiding lights.
pretty deep dude, keep up the good work!
hahaha! im so happy someone caught on to that!
it was intentionally misspelled, also i wrote "lullabye" instead of "lullaby". its hard to put my reasoning behind my use diction, and i just hope that everything flows well enough so i dont have to explain, haha.
im sure i did it with another word in there somewhere as well.
also thanks for the awesome feedback guys! i seriously appreciate it, but i wanna see more. ill post something else shortly, something new that ive been working on.
also you were correct in saying stanza.
and youre explanation of the sparrows? perfection.
ive rescinded th story that was previously posted here, and shall replace it anew, with my favorite work ive ever done. ive won several competitions with it, though ive yet to be published. baby steppies right?
A Lily in the Light of Stars…
…Where are you my love? Why aren’t you here beside me?
He was standing alone in a never-ending field of lilies, each one around him shining forth their smiling optimism like little yellow beacons of beauty and truth. A wind swept over the blossoms, and upon that wind he caught their scent, and heard their musical voices singing his name. He knew hearing them should make him feel better, but without his love, his Lily, beside him, he could not enjoy anything, he could only be forsaken and sorrowful. Cold.
That wind also brought many images to his plagued mind, many final glimpses of happier times. Of a smile as pure and constant as eternity, that would bring such joy to his heart that he had never known but she entered his life; Of wild flowers that grew in her gardens, white camellias, colored daisies of every hue, hyacinths, and lilies of white and of yellow, spread before the lilies of the valley, that gave forth unconscious sweetness, laid upon a bed of white clover, framed with forget-me-nots, and bordered by the purest of roses that bloom the color of love and endless passion. And in those memories of the gardens about their palace, thoughts of her eyes came swimming before his mind, eyes so elegant and knowing, seemingly so sad, and yet maintaining preciousness beyond that of the brightest stars.
How I tried to help end her sadness, how I tried to give her warmth…
And with that thought another flood of memories and visions exploded in his head, of her delicate body laying next to his in bed, whilst she dreamt of beautiful things beyond imagination, and he lay awake watching her sleeping gorgeousness, that far outshone even what the most potent of beauties would represent, that underlying vision of perfection that no other man upon the earth had witnessed save for him and him alone. Sights of the unspoken love that was shared between them both at every glance, every blink of an eye, a love so strong it shaped the foundations of the world around them. And while she dreamt, he would lie and watch the light of stars upon her face, small rays that shone through the curtain at the window overlooking the far green fields, illuminating and dancing on the skin of the silently sleeping beauty beside him.
And we would walk those far green fields, laughing and singing, rejoicing in our love for one another…
He too, would eventually sleep, and even in dream would be welcomed by her presence, her face and smile, and the lily tucked neatly into her flowing hair, that would spill down her creamy white back and shift and sway with the movements of her naked dance among the flowers and fields of the world of dreams. She would then cease her dance, and slowly stoop to pick a pure white feather from the flowers, and hold it before her green eyes, examining it and laughing at the silliness of admiring such an insubstantial object, a sound that made his heart quiver with lust. And while his heart beat her name, he would stand there, marking every motion of her body; Stretching her arms and spreading her hands to the open air, declaring to all what she was, and not caring what anyone thought of it, for she felt free and happy, and wished the heavens to know she felt that way.
She would look to him then, and beckon him closer, and he came to her. He ran to her. She would run a few feet ahead, and look back again smiling and laughing as he gave chase. And he would realize that he too is laughing, and there is no one around to watch, only him and her in their perfect little world, running and laughing beneath a wide cerulean sky that stretched far above an endless field of flowers, small white clouds darting overhead, seeming to laugh along with them as they ran. They would run into the forest, skirting and dodging between the branches of the oak trees, dashing along upon thick green moss that cushioned their bare feet. Eventually they would happen upon a small clearing at the back of the wood, near to the feet of the snow-capped mountain that pierced the sky with frightening ferocity. And in that clearing they would lay on their backs upon the moss and grass, looking up at the sky that shimmered between the branches of the trees, birds singing songs that sang of love overhead in the canopy, and laughing, just laughing.
No one around to see.
Just his lily, him, and their laughter, drifting through that haven of grass and trees and moss. She would gaze at him, and smile, and she would kiss him, afterward pulling gently back, and waiting for him to do the same. And he would kiss her then, cupping her chin in his hand as he did so, the tips of his fingers laid upon the back of her neck, pulling in her taste, her scent, her beauty. And they would make love in that clearing, a bittersweet mingling of purest joy and deepest sorrow, meshed as one emotion, as one must feel when experiencing such love as they felt, and no one else in this world would know of that love, or anything like to it, never, never in life.
And now? Now all of that is gone away… What have I done?
He was alone, standing absently in a never-ending field of lilies, their blooming beauty trying to soothe him, to comfort his aching heart, seeming as though his love had been reborn in their blossoms, as though she had been re-personified as an endless field of the most beautiful flower.
But the lilies could not provide him solace for his deed, and nor could his failing mind, and he thought to himself, these lilies mark my grave, one epitaph for every death I deserve to die for what I’ve done… Where are you my love, my Lily? I would crawl through ten thousand knives and back if I knew I could see you standing there at the end, smiling at me… Please come to me, my love, my Lily, and we will go to our clearing, and love each other, and laugh beneath the trees, like we used to… You’re all I want… But now you’re gone… And I’ll never find you again will I?
…Where are you my love?
He slept then, in that field of lilies. He dreamt of a swirling blackness come to take him away, and of a madness so extreme, so severe, gripping him in its arms so strongly that it stuck with him when he woke, and two memories alone remained to him. The memory of the anger that had filled him, of the insanity that had gripped him, and made him break everything, even the world, and the memory that he was here, searching endlessly for his love, even though he could not remember her name, or her face or smile.
He wandered without knowing it in one direction, the direction of the star that had shone brightest upon her face each night as she slept, but he did not know he was doing this, he merely strode through the field, being careful not to harm a single lily on his path.
Many years he wandered that field, walking between the lilies, losing more of his mind and will and strength with every step, ‘til one day he came to a low hill, the only rise that he had seen since his journey began. And at the base of that hill he laid down one last time, and taking his last breaths, he whispered to the sky…
“Lily? I’m coming now Lily, my love… I’m finally coming to find you… I love you…”
And so he died upon the base that hill, and where his body lay, the lilies there died with the final mourning of his heart, and turned into poisoned ivy and great, blackened thorns that dripped of blood and deadly venoms, encasing his body within them.
But within that cocoon of black thorns and poison, a single lily lived on, sprouting up from his heart, incarnating his final breath and the last beats of his heart, shining forth its bright optimism like a small yellow beacon of the purest love….
She had been walking opposite the path of that star for many years, for he had told her that it was the way home if she became lost, the way back to him, for he said it was the star that shone brightest upon her as she slept.
Finally she came upon the base of a low rise, a small hill that marred the otherwise perfectly straight horizon in that endless field of lilies, and at the base of that hill she slept, for she was weary and in great hurt of heart. “Wayfarer? I love you Wayfarer… I’m going to sleep now, so that I may see you in my dreams, where we can dance and sing and laugh in our clearing once more… I love you…”
Soundly she slept, dreaming of that clearing so far away now, in a broken world where nothing thrived only hatred and chaos, and she awoke the next morning in a thick shield of lilies, still at the base of the hill where she had slept the night before, and rising up she continued on her way, cresting the hill and coming to a stop at its zenith, closing her eyes and thinking of Wayfarer, and his promise to search for her for eternity if ever he broke the world through madness. And opening her eyes she glimpsed down the hill, the opposite side of that hill where she had been sleeping, the only one that rose form the ground in that land.
And lying at the base of that hill she saw hundreds of blackened lilies, and a great mass of poison ivy and black thorns…
Joined: Nov 07 2011
Is it too late for me to post something? I just want to get a little bit of feedback on a poem...
its never too late my friend, as long as you critique one of mine :D
Joined: Aug 13 2010
I don't like writing, like to draw though. Here's some of the stuff I recently drew. I think I've posted one already somewhere on this site, but anyway...
I drew the sakura drawing for a friend from costa rica as a christmas present. I hope she'll like it. And I hope she'll get it, I'm from Croatia, so the drawing has to cross half of the world... :)
Green just doesn't matter when you're blue
that sakura picture is fucking cool man, the attention made on the shading is very well done, and is worthy of taking some pride in.
i should have drafted you to do profiles for my book! haha
Man, you're starting to become my favorite GT member. First you gave me that compliment at my termina cover and now this. :D Guess I can just repeat myself and say thank you very much. I hope she'll like it too. I've been drawing this for a couple of months. :P I'm not very good at drawing but I am patient... Made so many mistakes that I was afraid the paper will tear from all the erasing. But in the end I made it. Hehe, I doubt I could do profiles for your book thought. I can't draw out of my head, I need something to look at. You should play "pictionary" with me once, then you'll see how I draw. XD
Rurouni Kenshin!!! He's one of my favorites! Wow all of those are really good I'm jealous! I can't draw...I always mess up on the eyes...how long did it take you to make that?
Ok! I'd be more than happy to critique one then I'll post one of my poems. Thanks!
Thanks! :) I think kenshin took me about a month and half. But I draw like 30min per day. Well, what can I say, when I was drawing this, his eye was the last thing I drew. I had a lot of problems with it cuz whenever a messed up a bit he would end up looking like a bug (or like on drugs, cuz his pupil was too big :). So I get your eye problem. :D It was kinda hard to capture his sharp look, and I wasn't 100% satisfied with this but it was the best I could do. Now I don't even want to look at the original picture anymore cuz it'll just make me unsatisfied again. :P
Just wondering, can anybody guess the animes from my 1st and last drawing? The 3rd one is too hard so it doesn't matter, and you may not have seen the anime of the 1st one, but I'm kinda curious about the last drawing. It's from an epic manga and anime that I'm sure every guy here has watched. This is a side character though so it may be a bit hard to guess.
Wow! It looks really cool! I've tried drawing before but I usually get frustrated cuz I can't get the nose right, one eye is bigger than the other or the most common reason for me, I just can't get the look right so I just stick to writing. When I saw your drawing I honestly thought it was from the manga cuz it looks just like Kenshin's about to beat the snot out of someone!
wayfaerer may I just say...you're poem, A Moth With Butterfly Wings, blew me away! Wow you really set the scene for your readers! I could see everything you described and normally I don't really like poems that having rhyming in them but that's not the case here! It's a bit long but amazing! I like it!
that last one almost looks like allen from escaflowne, but the nose aint long enough to be him haha.
im actually not all that big on watching anime, except a select few like escaflowne and dragon ball-z; i used to watch a lot of gundamn wing, but that was so long ago i barely remember anything about it. also zelda go ahead and critique my first post there, in the header. my latest work has been posted, but it received no feedback whatsoever. waters of the erath its called, made a seperate thread for it, but perhaps ill post it here, seeing as how this thread is getting more attention.
edit: haha, ya kinda snuck in there. thanks for the review; generally rhyming is a common theme in my poetry, but i try to keep it fresh as opposed to mundane or cliche, which is fairly hard to do this day in age; more or less, at least lately, i try to add my own rhyming scheme or tell a tale in what im writing, which actually seems to be working fairly well; its nigh impossible to find a muse in poetry, as everything done requires revision and expansion; poetry is a muse in and of itself i suppose really.
Cry of the Planets
I feel the world spinning
Around me, so silent her words are whispered to me
“Give me your hand”, she speaks…
I think I was one with her from the very beginning
A distant thought
A scattered memory, something not quite broken, but fragile is her time here
She speaks again
But she didn’t have anything left to say
I listened anyways…
I think she just needed a friend
this one came form a time when i was trying different themes, and despite its short length, i feel it retained some serious power in the message, and to this day i regard it as one of my own personal favorites of my own works, certainly the best without having a pre-determined scheme or rhyme basis.
Here's one of my poems. I did this for a class one time and usually those don't end up well but this one was different. It's kind of a spin off of Lawrence Ferlinghetti's poem "A Vast Confusion" but here it is! Btw I have nothing against iPhones, Starbuck's or McDonald's, part of the assignment was to include three modern and well known places and/or things and I wrote this when the tsunami hit Japan and the other part of the assignment was to include a recent event. But with that out of the way, enjoy!
Evanescent at Best
Softly I fall into the grasses.
Sounds of cars on the highway floating
in the wind are muted by the quiet
cries of confusion in the world.
Everyone too busy with iPhones
in their ears, the haunting symphony
echoing through the piers. The sound is
evanescent at best, drowned by the
tapping of computer keys and news
of Japanese tragedy. Today
the world is too much with us, between
the conveniences of McDonald's
and Starbuck's. The haunting symphony
echoing through the towns. The sound is
evanescent at best, constantly
stuttering, constantly muttering,
fighting and dying for followers
to forgo the chaos of gizmos.
The haunting symphony echoes through my heart.
Evanescent at best, I fight for my life.