Tragic AuthorI’m looking forward to being a tragic authorTragic Author3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
I’ll sit on a cloud with no silver lining
And become the male equivalent of a spinster
With words as my spouse and books as my offspring
At least then it is I who will control the outcome
For the lives of my heroes and heroines
And since I’ll not be afforded a happy ending
The least I can do is to give one to them
The Lord said ‘no’ to my happily ever after
Perhaps to inspire my imagination
A hollowed out heart is an ideal home after all
For my mind’s perpetual inspiration
I’m looking forward to being a tragic author
I’m such a devoted, hopeless romantic
Devoted in the sense I should have been committed
And hopeless as I took our love for granted
I dare you to keep the anguish and torment coming
As it will serve to inspire my greatest work
Assuming my heart pumps love more efficiently than pain
And my mind can refrain from going berserk
Now I sit in frustration with my parchment paper
The ink o
The Author and Alice.I swear that I try though even my best work is insufficient. No matter how bright and magical those thoughts are that dance around my brain, I am never fully capable to portray them to you. Not faithfully anyhow. I solely wish that I could, for these ideas of mine are so precious that they fill me with a pure sensation of happiness and glee. They dance around my mind with all their might. But for now, knowing that you love and appreciate the poor relocation of these living dreams is enough. I thank and love you for it, despite my incompetence and inability to fully comprehend what you find so great about whatever it is that I produce but just for you I enclose this:The Author and Alice.4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern
Falling through the hole,
A sweet little girl is lost,
Gone to Wonderland.
Looking for freedom,
She is searching for herself,
With unlikely friends.
Questions are sparked,
Wondering through Wonderland,
Who's this little girl?
She's finding herself,
In the most unlikely place,
She has freed herself.
It's time to leave now,
...So thank you to the author Thank you to the author for every written word,...So thank you to the author6 years ago in Concrete Poetry
For every single letter that fell from your silver sword.
I know this is the end, because the ink runs dry
I look down at the paper and I begin to cry
This is the end, the final chapter, I have to say goodbye.
The fantasy has ended; the world you built will die
In memory I will keep it, inside my heart of glass
Again and again I shall reread it, until more time will pass
So thank you to the author
... For every time I smiled
the author of my hippocampus needs a proofreaderan urge of jealousythe author of my hippocampus needs a proofreader3 years ago in Free Verse
mixed with apathy
and a tint of every
open blood vessel
in my vains
sprinkle my neurons
in your blender. my
tastes sharper when
it's split in sevenths
(in spicy fragments)
i forgot to mention,
the way your cursive
skeleton felt against
the heart of my hips
then i remembered you can't forget
something that never happened.
i am an insomniac,
and sometimes i'm
a poetic amnesiac,
a librarian who's a
traitor to his spine
(please kidnap my bones;
let the shredder eat them
for dinner) drink their ink
my acerbic pen
running out of
i guess i have to choose between
the unwritten pages of my future
An Author's NightmareAn Author's NightmareAn Author's Nightmare4 years ago in Free Verse
The inkwell has tipped and fallen;
Its black liquid seeps forward
To engulf the paper, the pen.
The desk is unable to hide
From the dark, soulless mess
And it creeps over the side.
Within it, millions of lives,
Alongside millions of loves,
All fade, none left to survive.
Characters die before they breathe,
and a melancholy ache screams forth,
for the creator has fallen on knees.
"No, no, this is impossibly untrue!
My life, my hope, my entire work?
All gone, not to leave me a few?"
His tears slip down a haggard face
And his shaking hands turn black
With such dark, despondent taste.
Ebony velvet continues on,
Engulfing all, leaving none.
A Birthday Poem for an AuthorWhere is the place I'd like to go?A Birthday Poem for an Author3 years ago in Free Verse
Well, the place isn't very hard to find
It's not on the left, right, top, behind, or below
But in the mind.
A place full of colors and wonders
As far as the eye can see
Some with a closed-mind may ponder
But for the most, it makes them feel alive and fancy free.
Full of strange and wonderful creatures that you've never seen,
Where cats wear hats and foxes wear sock-es,
Fish can hum, elephants can hatch eggs, and food can be served in the color green
And soft trees to relax under from all of the raucous.
Some may not be so friendly in a snitch,
But they are actually more friendly than you think
With names like Horton, Lorax, Sally, Sam, and Thidwick,
And there's even a good amount of heart in grumps like the Grinch
You also learn lessons from this land,
Like you should always accept people for who they are
Whether their bellies are plain or have a star,
You should always lend them helping hand.
And learn how to count the fish and know the Alphabet,
A Review of Author Stephanie MeyerWhy You Should Give an Ounce of Credit to Stephanie MeyerA Review of Author Stephanie Meyer3 years ago in Reviews & Guides
Now, before I start this essay, don't get me wrong: I do not like Meyer. I don't like her work, I don't like her writing, I don't even like the way she handles fan mail. I read Twilight, hated it, and moved on with my life. I haven't watched any of the movies, because screw those, and the only other work I've read of hers is the first chapter or two of Breaking Dawn. And I only read that because it somehow made its way into my family's garage sale and I wanted to see if she had improved at all since her first book. But more on that later. So, is this essay somewhat biased? Absolutely. Am I still going to give SMeyer a fair review? Sure. I can do that. And when I say an ounce of credit I literally mean a collective ounce of credit, worldwide. So 7 billion people, get out your measuring spoons and figure out how much 1/7 billionth of an ounce is, pour that out, and add it to the pool. And once we've done that, w
we are our favorite authorsi know i've lost you for a while. though i can still find you in the pages of your book suggestions,we are our favorite authors5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
words you told me had changed you, set you free, trapped you forever. made you breathe in and out,
count your breaths like ants crawling between your sheets at half past three am. i just want you to know
that caring is still a verb, and love is just a butchered adjective, verb, noun, a part of speech if you will.
and i refuse to let it engulf me. take me out behind the back porch and slay my insides daily. if i wake up in
the hospital tomorrow, remind them to tie my tongue to the roof of my mouth because i can't speak these words anymore without crying. tell my mother to set my room on fire, please oh please just promise me you will stay to watch it burn. just one more hour, just one more minute, just one more second. just watch the final embers burn, die out, and please whatever you do,
don't do it because of me.
and if the author won't die, kill themdefine me in presencesand if the author won't die, kill them2 years ago in Free Verse
excesses of flesh carelessly filtered out
and poured into tanks - the rank steam
fueling my hounding of the x-
my mind an industrial unit,
the hell do we produce?..
but this won't do,
this won't do -
analyse any scumbag's snot,
and you could find: orion & other nebulae,
the skinny spectres of new york,
Nightmare (KarkatxReader)"Kitkat..."Nightmare (KarkatxReader)2 years ago in Short Stories
Karkat straightened at the sound of you muttering from the doorway. His grey hands slowed their typing, but he grummbled to himself and looked over his shoulder, only to find you rubbing your eyes, your body hunched due to your grogginess. He sighed and snapped,"What is it, (Name)?"
You lowered your hands from your face. Resting a hand against the doorway to make sure you didn't fall due to your fatigue, you replied,"I... I had a nightmare."
The troll let out a groan as he turned his attention back to the computer. The keys clicked repeatedly, giving you the assumption that he was either attempting to hack or chatting to a friend of his. "It's what you get," he said irritably,"You're the one who chose to not sleep in a recuperacoon."
It was a couple of minutes filled with nothing but the clack clack clack of the keys. Karkat could tell you hadn't gone back to your room. You were just standing there, watching. Like you were waiting for something. He groaned again.
Dear Bleach Fanfiction Authors Ch 1Chapter 1 - Ichigo KurosakiDear Bleach Fanfiction Authors Ch 13 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
Summary: Humorous short letters to Bleach fanfiction authors: what the characters would say in response to common fanfic clichés. Canon universe and pairings, mostly. Drabble series. Suggestions welcome!
Inspired by Horizons' Harry Potter story of the same name.
A/N: I'm not trying to diss any pairings in these drabbles. I'm just trying to imagine what the Bleach characters themselves would say about them, and remember, there are very few canon pairings.
Those of you who have read my writing know that I am poking fun at some of the pairings (and clichés) I myself love and/or write.
So please remember not to take any of this too seriously. I promise not to put any of my own or others' pairing preferences in these drabbles. Canon pairings only, and even those may come in for some roasting.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
Dear Bleach Fanfiction Authors,
I just found your site, and frankly, it's disturbing.
DesireYour smooth skin,Desire7 years ago in Songs & Lyrics
It drives me crazy
I want to touch you,
And just maybe,
You...will let me...
The look in your eyes,
It really drives me wild
I shouldn't be surprised,
That you're so tempting...
You are all I can see...
Taking over me
I can see...
The light in your eyes,
Every time you see me...
The beads of perspiration,
Are rolling down your face
As you look away,
I lean in for a little taste,
Because you let me...
I can see your curves,
Move underneath your shirt
And I can't place a price,
On what this moment's worth...
Taking over me
Always controlling me
I can see...
The light in your eyes,
Every time you see me...
You arch your back,
And I can see you smile
All the waiting is over,
And I know the time is right
You drive me to my knees
All I want in this moment,
Is to feel...release...
Taking over me
Always controlling me
I can see...in your eyes...
That your desire...
Poets Always Lieambrosial fabrications arePoets Always Lie3 years ago in Free Verse
easier to swallow down when
incandescence is a blessing bestowed
only upon those with silky tongues.
deceptions are beautiful
in the right words
because they are salvation, like a
rapture, they save the sickly,
self-indulgent souls from those
tragedies they used to write on the insides
of childhood notebooks about who
they could never be [themselves]
they rescue them from tremulous
corners and closets, hideaways
where they've grown too akin to
the demons they nurse; and drag
them into a land beautiful enough
to wear light as a second skin
(where lies are never discussed
but always shared)
are so much more comforting
than the absoluteness of reality
because self-resentment is as
natural as a heartbeat to those
who were born breathing and
abhorring and denying all from one
steady gasp of what the existent world
had to offer to them
back then their eyes opened, and
their fingers fumbled, born, they realized
the world wasn't as pretty as promi
Sanctuary of an AuthorA staircase of pages,Sanctuary of an Author3 years ago in Free Verse
A banister of words,
Carpets of similes,
Chandeliers of verbs.
A door of metaphor,
A floor of phrase.
Rooms of nouns,
Walls of essays.
A window of insight,
With panes of satire
Looking out warmly
On dead trees of culture.
HopeHope:Hope3 years ago in Free Verse
She waits for him
at the gates that stood when even the world crumbled
knowing that her own name will soon be forgotten
Where once she carried the weight of the world
now her strength is but the tiniest whisper
A single spark, left to crackle amongst the shades
until all is lost in the endless folds of time
It's getting colder
though she still continues to stand by the gates
She is getting older
and thus her memories must fade...
Angels gather to watch her in these final moments
and they bow their heads as a sign of respect
For even now, as the life leaves her body
Still she continues to wait...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 27th July 2012
Aren't You Ashamed Yet?Aren't You Ashamed Yet?:Aren't You Ashamed Yet?3 years ago in Free Verse
Truly an object of mystique and mystery
A simple device, with a painted layer
That conceals a face of rotting worms
Oh, I'm sorry, was I supposed to overlook it?
Let me rephrase it in a more appropriate manner
You are a cowardly, pathetic, miserable, filthy
Unintelligent, soul-sucking, perfidious, bag of rotting worms
You who once held my respect, you who were once my friend
you shared in my secrets and you shared in my dreams
But in the end, it was the lies
The horrible, filthy lies that spew forth from your tainted lips...
I guess it was a simple decision
I had no need to keep up this facade
and so I decided that I too should enjoy this game
and I began to taint my lips with lies
Oh how I enjoyed your anguish and misery...
That wonderous feeling of having you squirm
and before I knew it, I found myself wearing
a mask to hide those rotting worms...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 9th
Immortal ButterflyImmortal Butterfly:Immortal Butterfly3 years ago in Free Verse
I remember the Immortal Butterfly
Translucent wings that drank from the sky
Glittering dust would fall with every flap
Like warm tears dripped upon my tiny back
I would always chase this butterfly
as it makes its way across the sky
When I look I feel as though I can forget
The painful needles that twist into my back
I would always dream of this butterfly
and I wonder if I could ride it and fly in the sky
When I dream about it, I don't regret
Not being able to leave this tiny bed
Sometimes I can't see the butterfly
My vision turns grey like a stormy sky
I get scared during those times, because it makes me think
Of how everything could fade, before my eyes can blink
I remember when you first brought me this butterfly
You said you plucked it right out of the sky
Did you know it was the first thing that made me smile?
I'll tell you that story, so let me rest awhile...
I love...this little butterfly
It gave me dreams...of a beautiful sky
Although it was somethi
The Righteous Are LiarsThe Righteous Are Liars:The Righteous Are Liars2 years ago in Free Verse
I find it funny, at times,
In this reality, of mine.
When the heroes fall and demons rise.
In the fight for freedom, filled with lies.
But such is the nature of the templar divine.
With righteous chains, they'll keep us in line.
Afraid to face the true demon he fears.
He'll punishes the public, for their rightful jeers.
And thus ends the "hero's" tale...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 3rd November 2013
Song of the Sea SirenSong of the Sea Sirens:Song of the Sea Siren4 years ago in Free Verse
The roaring wind was quick to die
As the fog began to form.
Silence soon surrounded us
Like a calm before the storm.
In the darkest distance; against the light
I could hear a haunting melody.
It seemed to sound like a Siren's call
Coming from across the sea.
Immediately my crew reacted
As we dove beneath the deck.
Wool and wax to plug the ears
And ropes to tie me back.
As a Captain of this Pirate ship
My duty was plain to see.
Tied to the mast as a sacrifice
Was where I soon would be.
For one alone must endure the call
Else the Siren would not sing.
This had been a long tradition
Since the time of the Pirate King.
A swig of rum would steel the soul;
With a prayer of mercy from the crew.
Left alone upon the deck
It was like a private dinner for two.
'Come with me, my little sailor,'
Her voice did whisper in my mind
'I alone will give you pleasure,
For I alone am kind...'
Indeed she was an enchanting creature
Soft and warm with the promise of
Her Cold LipsHer Cold Lips:Her Cold Lips3 years ago in Free Verse
She watches me, as I bid my friends goodbye
Her cold hands creep along my shoulders
they tell me that she is there
and that she will never let me go...
We're in my room now, away from the outside
I know that she doesn't like the sun
Often, she prefers to observe me from the shadows
but I think she doesn't like the others coming close...
We're beneath the covers now, panting softly
her cold body pressed against mine
Her lips are completely devoid of warmth
and yet they taste so rousingly sweet
A haunting, a haunter and the haunted
Two of us now entwined beneath the ruffled sheets
We cross a barrier that should not be broken
each and every night, as her softly tongue slips gently over mine...
It's dark now and she continues to smile
Her chest does not rise and fall, for she does not breathe
She suffocates me and yet I can't bear to let her go
She clings to me and yet I am equally drawn
It's daytime now and she has vanished
but I know she will return when the sun has
I'm NOT Fat! [England x Pregnant!Reader] I'm NOT Fat!I'm NOT Fat! [England x Pregnant!Reader]3 years ago in Romance
[England x Pregnant!Reader]
Anyone in their right state of mind would notice that Arthur was distracted. They were arguing as always, yet the Brit wasn't saying a word. He wasn't yelling at Alfred for his idiotic ideas, he wasn't succumbing to the need to strangle the French man next to him, and his attention wasn't even drawn to Ludwig when he took control of the meeting. Another average World Summit meeting, but without Arthur prolonging activities, they actually accomplished a few things.
"England!" America yelled at the top of his booming voice.
The country spoken to looked over to the younger nation in slight confusion and anger at his thoughts being interrupted.
"What's wrong, dude? You've been quiet all day." He asked, worry lacing his usually chaotic voice.
"'e 'asn't even tried to strangle me."
barnes and nobleshe said she wants to lose her virginity at a barnes and noble.barnes and noble5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
it makes me feel so comfortable to be there, she said. the books, the pages, the people - all engrossed in print and words and new worlds, all like me.
she said, i want to make love in the fiction aisle. she paused. right between the palahniuk and plath, that's where i was this morning, i was reading the back covers of everything beautiful and thinking of you lying on top of me on the floor, and making something beautiful ourselves.
i want silence and intimacy, she said, i want bookstores. i want to be surrounded by book-bindings and straight spines with flat pages.
she said, at a bookstore, i can talk to anybody. i can be anybody. and i can know everyone by the pages they turn, and they can know me.
she said, it's beautiful.
she said, i can't write like you.
she said, i want to make something beautiful, too.
she said, let's do something to get us in the pages of a novel.
she said, i want to make love in a barnes and noble