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.

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.

Very nice. Who are your literary inspirations?

Uhm. William Shakespeare, Robert Frost and Edgar Allen Poe are the main ones. Pretty good piece, by the way.

This is probably my favorite one that I've done. I'm very proud of it. "Sing Of Your Ascent"

mine too dear. I love it.

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.