The ways of true loveThe ways of True LoveThe ways of true love8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Love works in many mysterious ways, most of which I do not understand. We can guess but only to be disappointed and fail and no-one likes to fail. People that say they understand love couldnt be more wrong because no-one understands love. When people try and describe what it is like to be in love, they have no idea how wrong they could possibly be. When you are in love you dont know how to describe it, so you could use the most romantic and powerful words in the dictionary and you could not be any closer to describing love than I am to winning an Oscar. Love is rare, but true love is the rarest of them all. Many people believe they have been at the hands of true love, and these people are extremely lucky. In order to find true love you have to work at it and cherish it 24/7. To be able to receive it, you have to give it along with your heart. To all of those that have found true love, I envy you.
Please dont' break my heartPlease dont break my heartPlease dont' break my heart8 years ago in Teen More Like This
I love you. All I ask us for you to love me back. Is that too much to ask for? It seems like it sometimes. I devote every minute of my life to you because I love you. Where as you do the same because I do. I can tell when you are lying so dont lie please as your only hurting the two of us. When I said I Love you, you told me you loved me too but I knew that wasnt the case. I would rather you said nothing than say the three words and put false hope in my mind. I said those words because I meant them from the bottom of my heart, not because I liked the sound of my own voice unlike some people. Those three words is the most powerful combination you will ever come across and you just say them without meaning . It isnt wise to say them for the sake of it. You have to say them from the bottom of your heart, and mean it, like I did. Thats how I said it, but you just said it by force and reassured me with a fake sm
The Hunger WithinThe Hunger Within8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The Hunger at times is unbearable
She won't let me sleep
She won't let me eat
She won't let me Breath
Until she is fed she won't leave me alone
sometimes i can calm her down
but only for a little while
then she comes back worse then before
there is only one thing that can shut her up
and until she gets what she wants
she will continue to drive me insane
SurrenderSurrender8 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
This bulletproof vest
is mere muslin to your hands;
strip on, strip on, love
Miyamoto Musashi's Poetrywe reconstruct the manMiyamoto Musashi's Poetry10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
from shards of paper and pottery
(a shrike in ink
a small wooden bodhisattva
a practical treatise on swordplay)
he said his only teacher was Nature
which is a fine thing to say
when you're good at everything
they say he slew Ganryū
with a length of oar
he'd whittled on impulse into a sword
so much for the soul of the samurai:
not metal, flashing and hard
priceless and irreplaceable
only a discarded wooden spar
emerging from refuse
to refuse returning
and perhaps his poems were the same
nourished by earth and water
whispering an answer to wind
burbling off towards the long sea
and this is how history left him
and this is how I might find him:
an old man on a mountain
preparing future warriors for poetry
writing his way back
into the world that wrote him
when he emerges from his grotto to converse with the single scarred wholeness of the moon, I steal towards his poems and brush the pages across my hands, like reaching for a damselfly at rest, to see how his b
The End - a passing thought"Kind sir!" quod she.The End - a passing thought8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
"Eh wot?" quod me.
"There's an illness in the stillness!"
Hand in hand we rock the land, my eight-legged girlfriend and I.
a moment of your time I am a writer because my mother says so.a moment of your time7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am a writer because I am teaching myself to look for my pothole blue eyes, fat stomach smile, and popped-bubblegum cheeks in mirrors, television screens, and reflective surfaces. I am a writer because one time I had an innocuous crush on my second cousin and I still cherish all of his two-line emails. I am a writer because I am the stereotypical, spoiled, overloved only child.
I am a writer because my grandfather, whose name is utter gibberish and the colors blue and red and green and radio talk shows and old black-and-white television sitcoms and whose beard is a medusa's pond of browned acid hair, tried to teach me to draw, croissants for eyes and big butterflies for chins. I am a writer because the entire time all I wanted to do was write poetry, turn a phrase,
I Will Fight YouWhen Jake awoke, he was in a bathtub filled with ice, an unnecessarily long scar where his liver should've been.I Will Fight You7 years ago in Horror More Like This
Towering above him, a man in a ski mask, a bloodied scalpel still in his hand. Seeing that his victim had awoken, he put the knife down, running his hands through the sink.
"Dude, what the hell?" Jake asked, not all too pleased with the removal of his vital organs, consent explicitly not given, at that. "I was using those."
The man ignored Jake and wiped his hands off. Picking up a fine pair of kidneys from the operating table, he slipped his hands into them, rolling his fingers as he tested out his new boxing gloves. The man turned to Jake.
"I will fight you."
Making loveEmbrace. Face to face.Making love11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Bodies pressed. Flesh compressed.
Heavy breath. Love till death.
Sweaty heat. Heartbeat.
I' love you. I love' you.
Eyes closed tight. Powerful might.
Emotions flow. Hands down low.
Pleasure pleases. Pressure teases.
In and out. Bodies close about.
Lay purely toggether. Make love forever.
ManuscriptI have written us down, typed us up, and sent us out.Manuscript8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
they will edit us, and say some parts are no good.
but I want your run-ons, your lack of punctuation; and you are so easy
on my weak binding, my damaged spine.
Tommy 1337Dahl, your death was a tragedy,Tommy 13377 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
But I'm almost glad you didn't see
The rising of the new way to
Make your kids' minds melt into goo.
I talk, of course, lest we forget
Of the abhorrent INTERNET.
None of us could contain our joy
When this delightful little toy
Made little Tommy shut his trap
(Much quicker than a lunchtime nap)
And seemed, at first, to educate
Rather than brain-assimilate.
But years rolled on and our new friend
Became the source of ghastly trends
And Tommy, now at age thirteen,
Became rather absurdly keen
On women half cat, with huge breasts,
And arguments on which was best:
The Potter books or sparkly guys
(Those weird gay vampires in disguise).
The vulgar porn and RP games
All make TV look rather tame.
Over 9,000 pedo-cocks,
And fan girls milling 'round in flocks,
Dramatica and DeviantArt
Will slowly blacken any heart
And dull your eyes, and dull your brain
Until you'll never speak again
Save in a strained and beastly growl
As we eliminate the vowel.
My Little SecretMy Little SecretMy Little Secret8 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It was 10pm and I drifted off to bed. I was tired and wanted to go to sleep and dream those dreams where unicorns existed, where people could fly and where there was a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow. As expected, I had the most amazing dream ever. I dreamt I had soft white wings and I was flying in and out of the clouds. My dream was some what interrupted by the creaking of my bedroom door. A figure lurked by the end of my bed and watched my chest rise and fall as I tried to ignore the noise. Slowly the figure floated towards my fragile body, my breathing becoming deeper. I kept my eyes closed, hoping they would go away, but they didnt. To my surprise, they pulled the duvet to one side and you joined me in my bed. By now my heart was beating so fast I thought it my chest was going to explode. It was five minutes before you moved again. I didnt like where this was going. A cold hand lifted up my polka-dot nightshirt and the rest
First time making loveTrembling lips gently grazeFirst time making love8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
while soft hands explore
for whats in store
A trail of kisses
Down the small of my back
My body reacts.
A brush of fingertips
Gently trace every outline
With love undefined
Heartbeats accelerate together
Racing at new speeds
Bodies embracing one another
A sharing of heart and soul
Making me whole
Sensuality ignited by every touch
Bonding through love and lust
An exchange of trust
Minds losing innocence
Trusting and loving the best we can
For who I am.
Embraces of more than flesh
in our romantic pantomime
this is to me
Making love for the first time
The Chemicals Between UsThe Chemicals Between Us9 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
Colin had received the letter two weeks after his eighteenth birthday. "Congratulations!" it began. "You are pre-approved for a Breeding Marriage License! Enclosed is form MGA-1304, application for suggested partners. Please complete this form and return it to the Ministry for Genetic Affairs to request your list of genetically compatible partners." He folded the letter back into its envelope and drew out the application. After scanning across it briefly, he set it on the table and opened the next item, another piece of college junk mail.
It sat in a filing cabinet until a biting February day three years later. As he was walking home from a senior seminar on twenty-first century composition, the woman Colin had been seeing for the past few months stopped him on the sidewalk. His fingers searched for the warm spots in his pockets as she coolly broke up with him. "I'm sending for my partners list, and I think that we should end this relationship," she told him. "I just don't see the poin
Winter Againdescends, the finalWinter Again7 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
traveler in autumns close
a leaf touches snow
How To WriteAbstract: an analytical approach to plotting and writing fiction upwards of 1,000 wordsHow To Write11 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Acknowledgements: the potentially amazing Rachel (IfrozenspiritI) served as guinea pig to this; go and tell her to finish the product of that experiment, because you'll love it. Chris Widdison (tearstone) approached me indecently with the idea of writing a longer essay (which will still happen, and be a lot more purdy than this here thing), which would incorporate this essay in another form, amongst others. He doesn't need to read any of this, because he already knows it all.
Target audience: young, inexperienced writers, especially those that find themselves pulling off vignettes and other super-short forms with an ease, while chronically unable to produce anything with more than a handful of scenes and more than 1,000 words.
Part 1: The Premise takes a look at the basic idea behind a piece
Part 2: The Story fills in some of those blanks and gives u
Full Fathom FiveFull fathom fiveFull Fathom Five8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
She lies, drowned,
In a world with
No light or sound
On her side, 'mongst
The corals and the fishes,
Longing for the
Breeze she misses
Full fathom five
She stirs and groans,
From her bones
And rising from
Her frigid bed
She reaches from
Beyond the dead
Full fathom five
She leaves the gloom,
Seeks the comfort
Of the moon.
With a whisper,
She breaks the waves;
Her skeleton crew
Wake from their graves
Full fathom five,
She sails still,
Upon a gossamer mist,
Weaving a chill
Around the hearts
Of sailing men
Who cross themselves and turn
From this phantom wind
Full fathom five
She flees the dawn
Seeking the night
To which she's drawn
But when the sun
Climbs into the sky,
Full fathom five,
She'll, dreaming, lie.
Goldenrod Skiesi dream of usGoldenrod Skies7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the field overgrown with wildflowers.
each a brilliant, shining, golden gleam
that reflected off your eyes,
and made me think of endless skies
and the touch of your lips to mine.
a never ending dream,
the fractured fairytale of us:
that got us lost in each others arms for hours
until all our breath was each others names,
and the wistless wind
carried them for miles and miles.
and the only witness to our
was the sun and cloudy stars above.
our heads, pillowed on the earthy dampness
the smell of goldenrod in our heads
and the sweetness of honeysuckle on our lips.
i dream of us
getting lost for hours,
somewhere, past the city where we met.
twenty miles south of nowhere.
where you would write
love songs on my skin,
with the tip of your tongue
tracing whimsical patterns into my mouth
and the only witness
to our sometimes bliss
would be the wind in our hair
and the goldenrod sky
The Writing ProcessWhat is the Writing Process?The Writing Process8 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Many of us learned that the writing process is made up of five parts: Pre-writing, Writing, Revision, Editing, and Publishing. Indeed, this process has been so ingrained, and the vocabulary and terms have become such a part of our education, that some students (and adults) feel as if writing is a formulaic, rigid thingnot unlike learning mathematicsthat they simply never excelled in. Fortunately, this simply isn't true. While the five basic steps of the writing process are effective, they can only be effective if the people using the process understand the purpose of each step.
Experience has shown that many students do not know the purpose of drafting beyond a certain, vague understanding that you're supposed to "correct" or "fix" something for each new draft. Its unfortunate, but its also been shown that students who are forced to Pre-Write in certain ways, even when they have been
The Culinary Tastes of Aliens"What have you done?"The Culinary Tastes of Aliens7 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
"The juices on your planet are delectable," he said, as though he hadn't heard her. She looked around her kitchen. There was blood and fur everywhere, and were those bits of bone?
"You ruined my juicer!"
He gave the appliance a dirty look. "Yes. You should probably go and purchase one of higher quality."
She was afraid to ask, but morbid curiosity took over. "What did you use?"
"I believe you call them 'squirrels'. Tomorrow I shall catch the avian you call a 'bluejay'. If it tastes half as good as the squirrel I believe I shall stay here for a long time."