My works of literature
I love to write and I like to know what people think of my writing so, i decided to post some of it on here for everyone to read and let me know their opinion...
Prelude To A Kiss (I won $200 for this one at my school) Flames flicker and waiver, dancing they burn Midnight voices resound in a chorus Shadows dance beside the passion they yearn Through the intertwining darkened forests Of fickle sea and emotionless winter Silhouettes of this dead, bleak december Everythings but ash, ember and cinder The insensate ignites, souls remember Tide crashes upon the wading shore Closer, ever closer, mornings presence Breathe into blackened darkness, nevermore hues of amber, scents of finest essence Shiver and look into the depths of fire One final moment, before all alters See it shimmer, the heart of desire Gently now, hesitant, heaven saunters Towards The emptiness, sensing its bliss In this one moment, prelude to a kiss Thieves Ballad Dancing upon the trepid path In the shadow of night I move swiftly, without a sound Silent and out of sight My soul is dark, my heart is too I spend my days in flight Never staying in any place My life is black and white Try to catch me, you never will I deceive all but time I am a devoted master An artist of all crime I take your treasures for my own my crafty hands are skilled Stealing all you own, no remorse Though no blood have i spilled I disappear at mornings light The moon is my own mask I shall return at midnights veil To carry out my task I am what you would call a thief I hide in your blind sight I dance upon the trepid path In the shadow of night |
Good stuff. I can barely manage to sign my signature, let alone compose poetry.
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Very nice. Who are your literary inspirations?
One of my old works: Saxophone The tide left a saxophone on my doorstep this evening. Orange sunset cloaked the vagrant – its surface wouldn’t shine, tarnished to dirt brown. I thought it might be someone’s litter – a twisted paper bag, or bathtub- drowned dog. A frayed piece of gray shirtsleeve noosed the horn’s neck. Its cork was split, mouthpiece missing. Seaweed denied movement to cracked keys. Its curved shape was perverted. Someone tried to hammer it straight with a cinderblock. Once an instrument of grace and sex, this piece was mauled and pitched from a boat under the veil of night, or hurled from a cliff by a lover who couldn’t taste the music. |
This is probably my favorite one that I've done. I'm very proud of it.
"Sing Of Your Ascent" 11-5-07 Our sins grow dark and the sinners grow darker, Dare them to dream and to rip at the seams. Of what I could speak I'd shed light on your heart, Dare them to dream and to rip at the seams. O, little one, you've yet to announce, The reason you tear at the veins, your poor veins. But speak, soft and silent, and should you announce, What's the cause of your crushing, your binding, your chains. And oh, child of light, your surrounded of guilt, Of grief, of the ones who have cherished you so. But no, precious one, these four walls you have built, Soon you'll find peace and we won't let you go. Soon, little dreamer, this world of distress, Shall unlock all the doors of your horrible mind. Inside your thoughts, we all see the mess, Of this beautiful, innocent, perfect design. |
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Allow me to recommend The Triggering Town, by Richard Hugo. It doesn't necessarily teach how to write poetry, but it explains some useful processes.
Also, if you like Frost, check out Seamus Heaney. |
Here is a work that Wed-G and I wrote together in our English class, It's also the source I got my name for this site from
The Summer Set Did Fade As the red moon was rising high The summer set did fade The wind was cold, the earth was dark Disguised within the shade The ocean crashed on shores of silt Shells crushed against the force The machine that churns the tides Set firm against the source Haunted woods of hallowed spectres Phantoms of a nightmare Midnights chorus waking demons At ends the world's unfair Dreams steadfast to blow a cold wind Winding against the ocean shore Love is crushed against the mountains Flying free, nevermore |
I've got a new one.
Buried At Sea 6/22/08 I'm free, what last wash over me, These bonds cling tighter to my wrist. Treason against humility, Creations' hands clenched to a fist. This anger pulls so tight at me, Yet, struggling cannot free my heart. I'm bound and held without a key, No chance to go back to the start. Of everything I've called my own, Our friendship can't carry water. I've yet to stray so far from home, Travesty will end in slaughter. For when the day his will does snap, And such abuse will end in tears, He'll bind their throats within this strap, He'll be the one who disappears. In sight with all this guilt inside, Knowing that they pushed him so. If only they had been more kind, For surely then, he would've known. He would've known that trust is built, An honor to which bonds are made. Instead, these thoughts just cause such guilt, For in this sea, their bodies wade. |
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