Remembrance: Loveless Part IMy time with her was short yet sweetRemembrance: Loveless Part I2 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Our love had started gaining heat
But looking back, is this defeat
That she had to leave me?
Some deed that I foolishly did;
What it was she care'fly hid
Made so she had me to rid,
But what is it she's seen?
My focus was on her alone
My heart and soul for her had shone
My feelings, joy, and strength had grown;
But was I, to her, mean?
I still know naught how I digressed
The path of caring and kindness
but if I ask, i'd make a mess...
...perhaps I'll let her be...
Calvin and Hobbes: The EndCalvin and Hobbes: The End3 years ago in Drama More Like This
As Calvin grew up, each day he would play games with his stuffed tiger, Hobbes. But he knew that Hobbes was more than a striped cotton bag, he was a friend, no, a part of the family. But Calvin's mom showed signs of fright, as she wanted Calvin to grow up and get real friends. Calvin was from then on forced to play with classmates at the playground, though it showed no progress. Taunts, curses, and signs were shown from his 4th grade enemys. This made him have more and more eagerness for Hobbes. Every day when Hobbes ran and "pounced" on him, it made him feel more relived to finally be with his only buddy. One day, though, this all changed, as Calvin was older. He saw on his first day of school, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. And that, was 16 year old Susie Jerkins, Calvin's biggest enemy. He walked up to her and said, "Susie, is that you? It's been so long!" Then him and Susie walked to their lunch table and caught up on each other. Each day Hobbes collect
LA MARCA DE LA BESTIALA MARCA DE LA BESTIA5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Es como la espada que se clavo en mi frente
Y de tan brutal herida, brota sangre hirviente
El dolor es menor que cuando comenzó
Y a veces creo que la agonía finalizo
Pero a la menor corriente de aire el dolor regresa
Siento que me muele la mente y me duele la cabeza
¿Por qué el dolor no se va?
¿Por qué el dolor no se pierde?
¿Por qué su maldita espada
sigue clavada en mi mente?
Desde que la tengo, no he podido dormir
Yo estoy aquí varada y no me puedo ir
Pierdo sangre muy rápidamente
Sangre que recupero muy lentamente
Con tanto dolor, sentía que moría
Y a ese dolor se le llama agonía
¿Por qué el dolor no se va?
¿Por qué el dolor no se pierde?
¿Por qué su maldita espada
sigue clavada en mi mente?
La respuesta es clara
Para matar al dolor
Hay que sacar la espada
La sangre enceguece mis ojos y los debo cerrar
La escupo por la boca y no me deja respirar
No se como es posible que no dej
Un Cumple Especial para SusoAcababa de terminar las clases de hoy, asique salí a la parada de autobuses para irme a la residencia. Una vez allí, dejé mi pesada mochila con un gran golpe sonoro en el suelo y saqué mi portatil para darme una vuelta por la red. Mi sorpresa llegó al ver que tenia un mensaje recordándome que un amigo mio habia cumplido años un par de días atrás y me olvidé por completo del asunto.Un Cumple Especial para Suso5 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
-Con razón no me dijo nada de eso. Queria que le felicitara, pero a ver que hago yo ahora. -Pensé para mi mismo.- Ni siquiera pude asistir a su cumpleaños. ¡Qué desastre soy!
Ante la posibilidad de hacerle un regalo que compensara mi error y mi tardanza me vi en un dilema. No tenia ni idea de lo que le podria gustar y ya sé que el regalo no hace feliz a la persona, sino la intención. Pero hay límites y tengo que darle lo mejor para él. Quizás una buena pieza cazada le guste, aunque tampoco es necesario que sea
Regreso a la Guarida Cap4Regreso a la Guarida Cap45 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Estaba en un hermoso prado y sentia como mi pelaje se movia por el viento. El cielo era azul y no habia ninguna nube que tapara al sol. Podria correr todo el tiempo y sin cansarme. Pero al dar el primer paso, el cielo cambió a color rojo intenso y el prado estaba seco. Nubes oscuras comenzaban a formarse mientras el aire estaba cargado de un sentimiento tan desagarrador que me costaba respirar. Abrí los ojos con fuerza y me puse a respirar con ansiedad. No era la primera vez que tenia pesadillas, pero ya era mi tercera noche así. Exacto. Han pasado tres días desde que estoy huyendo de la Guarida.
-Tranquilizate, respira hondo. -Me decia a mi mismo.- Eso es. Así. Un día te va a estallar el pecho de lo loco que pones a tu corazón.
El hecho de que me encuentre así es porque todavia tengo un miedo atroz a que me encuentren. A pesar de correr sin parar durante tres días, no puedo evitar sentir miedo de quedarme dormido y me encuentren. A mi mente
No puedoen ese momento en que la debilidad es tu peor enemigoNo puedo5 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
en ese momento en que todo se ve negro y lo unico que brilla es la sangre
es mejor no moverse, pues puede que te arrepientar de lo que haras
fingir que la nada es suprema y que el todo no existe
tragarte tu propia sangre en un hirbiente frenesi de colera
ese en que hierbes en ira y solo quieres desaparecerlo todo
sabes que ese es uno se esos dias en que nada vale la pena
ese en que compruebas que mas que tu existencia, es lo que sientes lo que menos les importa.
tragarlos de un bocado tal y como lo haria el diablo
eso suena como lo unico que valdria la pena.
pero nunca lo es, no puedes negar que esa no es la salida
y lo unico que queda es sentarse y fingir que no pasa nada
fingir que estas bien, para que cuando alguien pregunte
mas por deber que por preocupacion, tu solo contestes
"estoy bien" pues sabes que la verdad solo les dara armas para lastimarte
cada vez mas fuerte y cada vez mas adentro
me canse de estar bien, me canso de q
TransformacionEra de noche en aquel bosque de árboles milenarios. No había nubes en el cielo estrellado y una intensa luna media emitía su luz blanca por todo el lugar haciendo que estuviera mágicamente iluminado. El viento discurría por las copas de los árboles y movía sus ramas de forma tranquila. En ese mismo lugar, se encontraba una manada de licántropos. Estas criaturas vivían separados del mundo humano, pero algunas veces sus gentes se mezclaban con las personas normales para asegurarse que los humanos nunca conocerían su existencia a menos, claro está, que ellos decidieran mostrarse. Nuestra atención se dirige hacia una parte del territorio de esa manada, donde al parecer las cosas estaban un poco alteradas.Transformacion4 years ago in Spiritual & Occult More Like This
-Estaos quietos. Mira que estáis alborotados. -Dijo una hembra a los cachorros que tenía a su alrededor.
-No queremos irnos a dormir. -Decía uno de ellos mirando a la loba que les cuidaba.- Queremos esperar a Pap
Un dia movidoTodavia no habia amanecido, pero a los cuatro integrantes que iban en un coche por la carretera no les importaba. En aquel vehiculo, reinaba el silencio hasta que la chica que iba con los tres chicos restantes lo rompió.Un dia movido4 years ago in Humor More Like This
-¿Por qué tenemos que coger vacaciones ahora? No creo que sea el mejor momento.
-Créeme, Anne. -Dijo el chico que estaba a su lado.- Necesitas relajarte un poco.
-Y adonde vamos tampoco es tan diferente de nuestro bosque. Ya verás que bien nos lo pasamos Anne. Necesitas descansar e intentar pensar en otra cosa. Se que tus padres están dólidos por tu pérdida y que ha sido algo muy cruel para ellos hacerles esto.
-Habia que protegerles, Anne.
-Ya lo sé, Mark. -Dijo la chica hacia el conductor.- Y tú tambien, Daisuke. En fin, espero que estos tres días sean relajantes.
-Hahaha, no hay nada relajante para tres licántropos. -Respondió Daisuke riendo.
-Ni para un servidor vampiro. -Dijo el conductor
Detective Nox: The Definitive BioDetective Nox: The Definitive Bio2 years ago in Profiles More Like This
1: Why was the character created?
For a number of reasons, really. Yes, one is Fred Weasley. I wanted to write a Fred romance story, because I wasn't best impressed with the Fred pairings around e.g. Fred x Hermione, Fred x one of the Quidditch girls etc., but I never create a character purely to be the arm decoration of whichever canon character. Nox was also created as an integral part to the plot of my story. She was also created to fill a glaringly large Muggle gap in the Harry Potter books. It always bothered me that despite the books' strong anti-bigotry message, Muggles were continuously portrayed as being lackwitted, intolerant and stupid for their ignorance regarding the goings on in the wizarding world. A lot of mixed messages going on there. I wanted to create a character who would highlight and tackle this issue.
2: Currently, how long have you been developing the character?
Three and a half years.
3: What is the character's name?
Gertrude Nox Wolfe. Be
A Wall of WordsA Wall of WordsA Wall of Words4 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Liz walked into the ICU with a hopeful look on her face, a slight spring in her step. Last night, her mother had made it through emergency surgery. With flying colors was the term that the doctor had used. Upon walking into her mothers room, she paused. All was quiet; no TV sounded, no voices spoke. In the cool dimness, her eye was drawn to the bright glow in the middle of the room, where her mother was caught in the beam of the one overhead light.
Small and frail, her mother lay amidst the tangles of wires and tubes, the soft, muted whispers of machinery encircling her. Taking her hand, Liz sat, waiting for her mother to wake and speak. Too quiet in the dark room, she began to talk. Holding tightly to her mothers hand, she spoke of inconsequential things; how they had cleaned the house thoroughly for her homecoming; that her granddaughter had started sewing a small pillow for her.
The cherries are almost ripe, and I pruned the dead roses l
Breaking Writer's BlockStep OneBreaking Writer's Block1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Start writing. The hardest part of all. The second you get going, your momentum starts to fall.
Go out of order, just so the flow doesn't hitch. When you're trying to keep things straight you'll find you have a glitch.
Flick off inspiration. All you need is you. If writing is what you desiredon't stop to think, just do.
Go on without a doubt. For words will starttoblendand rhyme schemes will falter and you may have run ons that are too long or misspellings improper. Whatever you do don't stop even though it's corny crap, the test is all the rough spotsthen you're back on track.
Make it fun. That's all there is to say.
Try to finish, don't put it off a day.
Is a hard one, because it makes you really think. Write about what happenedwhat put you on the brink.
Makes no sense but neither does this rhyme. Since there's two more steps to gobetter save some time. Refrigerator.
Sirenum ScopuliOnce upon a time, I loved into life, but I fell in love with the swamp.Sirenum Scopuli3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I found her in the tak tak tak of the wind tugging on the weather door. I always wondered, under my blankets, whether it was footsteps or heartbeats.
It's both. Through the tak tak of the screen door, and thump of a fallen apple, she crept so deliciously over my ears, nose, lips. Say it again, Love: "Crept so deliciously," because these are the sounds of the swamp. Through the shadows of the apple tree, she entered my eyes. She woke me with her touch, called me in the sounds of rain on leaves.
She taked around the storm door to plant blue kisses on my ears. Your imagination would paint her green or brown, but she all day collects the blue sky in her moss-nets and colors her eyes and skin and hair at night so that she can steal into what is not hers and claim it.
"Come with me." Cicadas and bullfrogs. Finger-tendrils around my hands, dead grass tugging at my bare legs, and cautionary root
You Ever Notice?--part 2It was after school, and the bus dropped us off at the same place. Same high school because our scrap of a town only had two. It was cloudy, and I was trying to hold the rain back with my mind for the sake of this conversation. She was walking ahead of me, head down, arms wrapped around her book bag. She never wore it normal once she was off the bus. Picked that up a year ago. Anyhow, I caught up to her (she sped walked, I swear) and tapped her shoulder. She actually jumped. She spun on me and I saw how wide her eyes were. I probably would have laughed but she had freaked me out jumping like that. So for a moment we just kind of stared at each other. She recovered first though. Her shoulders hunched a little and her eyes thinned to slits.You Ever Notice?--part 24 years ago in General More Like This
"Hey." I said.
She kept silent, but her eyes didn't leave me. She looked like she was expecting a tr
PUMPKIN FAIRYThe pumpkin was strange. It gave him the creeps. It was as creepy as the shop he'd bought it from and the ugly woman who'd sold it to him. She was like the bad witches in fairy tales. He'd be happy to run out of the shop,but they were poor. They couldn't afford the beautiful pumpkins bought by other families. Mom was involved in witchcraft-at least that's what she pretended. She earned some money by telling fortunes,mainly by tarot cards. Sometimes she made love potions and cast spells.PUMPKIN FAIRY4 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
They had to buy a pumpkin, she told him. A witch's house had to be decorated with a pumpkin for Halloween.
But the woman in the shop was nothing like Mom. And the pumpkin was terrifying.Coming to think of it, it would be an excellent decoration in Boogyman's house...
Of a sudden the pumpkin was illuminated. An orange smoke came out of it. The smoke slowly transformed into an ethereal woman. She probably was a ghost. Or a fairy. Beautiful and fearsome. She was malevolent,that was for sure. The boy child
The Sabbats and LinksIntro into the SabbatsThe Sabbats and Links4 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Not all Wiccans celebrate the Sabbats the same and not all Wiccans will believe the same details as other Wiccans when it comes to Sabbats, it largely depends on the practitioner and how they feel comfortable worshipping.
The Sabbats were used not only for spiritual growth and Deity closeness by the Pagans but also for harvest and planting celebrations and is used more as the changing of the seasons for Wiccans.
Wiccans enjoy working their rituals around the Sabbats to help increase the rites effectiveness and to help bond them closer to their dedication. Each Sabbat comes with a wealth of strengths to help Wiccans decide how best and when to practice.
Wiccans also do very much what the Pagans did back in the day when it comes to connecting with our Divine on those special times when nature and our souls are so well in tune. Pagans would use what was available to them at the time to decorate their altar because, unlike us, they didnt have very ma
Each Other's CompanyIt grows in the daisy field just behind Old Man Valiant's farm. The great oak tree, with the makeshift swing hanging low above a patch of dirt, scrapped bare by generations of heels. It's bark has been mutilated with the shallow carvings of hearts and fragile letters. They are but memories, some of which have long since gone foul, etched over with X's and O's.Each Other's Company4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Here is where she is found most of the long hours, hours made longer still by the stagnation of the tiny rural village. Desolate and grey, the population choked by old public figures and even older morality. She sits on the old wooden swing, her fingers wrapped delicately around the thick rope. In her lap there is a book, the binding shoddy and old, but somehow charming in its disrepair. She wears a yellow sun dress. The homemade hand me down that her older sister had abandoned for big city fantasies five years ago. Her hair is let down, free to the mid-summer wind.
It is one of those days where the air is so clear that the sun s
For The BirdsSometimes I start writing stories and then find outFor The Birds5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that they're true
or somebody already wrote them, or nobody wants to know.
And then I have to stop and start again,
with something different.
You used to tell me about all these beautiful worlds,
and the beautiful white houses, and the beautiful white
and how they pranced along the sandy shore,
just waiting for us to ride them home
to our safe, warm house,
and I would ask you why not.
And you said white horses were for the birds.
I went looking for the birds, you know.
I left my house with a hundred dollars in my pocket
and a patched rucksack on my back,
and just started walking.
I didn't even have any plasters for my blisters,
and most service stations in Norfolk don't take dollars.
I kept walking.
I reached the coast. I'd never seen the sea before.
It was so blue, such a lovely shade of blue.
Just like you told me.
Do you remember those nights? We used to lie out on the
trampoline in your ga
REUNIONREUNIONREUNION9 months ago in Sketches More Like This
“Beautiful,” the village priest muttered, “but the sun's beauty will extinguish that come morning.” He rose and turned toward the constable, “Chain her here, double the guard, and be sure no-one touches her.” She looked at him and spat, “I will eat your still beating heart from your chest, holy man. Your children will be my spawn and your wife will know true horror!” The priest smiled at her, “I am unmarried, demon whore, and you will die at dawn.” She spat curses as he walked away, but it seemed to me her fight was fading. My heart broke a little.
I've been looking for her for over a decade. I've taken many forms and ended many lives in my search. Moving on is necessary, and easy. Then again, integrating myself into a society comes much easier to me than most. Here, I am Dalgud Horscht, the trusted and well respected captain of the guard, I am the eldest son of one of our fine communities founding families,
Dicewood - ElienThe dice brought her success. She'd needed it. She'd worn out every other option, it seemed. The good king's levy would soon be due. When she found out she'd won plenty enough to write it off, in her joy she sold most of her furniture plus other non-necessities.Dicewood - Elien4 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
But why did it work? Her wins confounded her. "Success to the pure, upright in soul?" She knew keenly those words didn't describe her. She knew she tended to gossip, so she promptly resolved to mend herself, trying to mollify the dice, to preserve the luck they'd brought her. Possibly the truism should be reversed - the dice influence one's soul.
She remembered her neighbors. Like her, they were unkempt, skinny. She felt compelled to help them. She wondered if she could, the next night, use the dice for good.
Trying to expel every wicked motive from herself, she returned quickly to the wooden, noisy pub under the blue twilight. In one opponent's spot stood some fine young fellow. His undershirt sported pinstripes whi
W.W.B.-Necromancers TaleHave you ever missed someone so much that it is physically painful, or been so terrified that you could hear your own heart pounding in your ear drums like thunder? To be curt, that’s me every day of my life for the past ten years, and my anxiety doesn't seem to be improving anytime in the near future.W.W.B.-Necromancers Tale4 months ago in Settings More Like This
Oh, where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Pheakdei Chey. I’m a business man of sorts. Ah! Come in, come in, and don’t be shy. Sit, sit! Allow me to tell you my tale; it shall not take too long. That’s what you are here for, right hero? You came out of curiosity and the desire to know more of the man who messes with the dead. No, you brute! I’m not a necrophiliac, how disgusting! Anyways, let us not tarry too long, this is a contract, understand? In exchange for my story you will give me payment equal to the value of the information. Now, let us begin.
Most of my family is dead, I’ll have you know. Wiped out by a plague, just li
Quick the DonkeyQuick the Donkey8 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
The donkey's name was Quick.
His front hooves were neat and dexterous and opposable, and his back hooves were the size of dinner plates and had unassuming steel shoes. He had a pale grey hide and pale pink nostrils, and ears like enormous fringed fans, and if you lifted up his cowl far enough, you would find large, slightly worried brown eyes, with the devastatingly long eyelashes reserved for beauty queens and large ungulates. He was a small, neat-footed donkey who kept his elbows tucked in and could vanish into a crowd much more easily than a bipedal donkey wearing a yellow robe with checkerboard edging had any right to do.
He had a goldfish in a plastic bag. She was a small, neat-finned goldfish with kinder eyes than are usual among fish. Quick was only guessing about the "she" pronoun. He wasn't sure how to tell the difference, or if it mattered one way or the other. Well, it probably mattered to another goldfish. He wasn't sure if the kindness of the goldfish's eyes was really the
Show and TellShow and TellShow and Tell7 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
The idea behind what constitutes 'telling' is probably the most often confused by critics who are new to poetry.
The general notion of it has been around for centuries in all types of literature, but the approach to it was tightened considerably in the 1920s by those of the Modernist school of thought – most notably TE Hulme, HD and Ezra Pound who adapted many tenets of the French school of Symbolism into Imagism.
This leaves us with the current poetic climate, which shuns the idea of a pseudo-poet narrator (as favoured in lyrical poetry – Shelley's Ode to the West Wind, for example) in favour of less intrusive accounts.
The guidelines that it encourages are pretty logical, and mostly just serve to crystallize a critical paradigm present long before it was given this name. It's simply a matter of narrative viewpoint.
If I say 'The man is sad' I am intruding upon the narrative with my own opinion.
If I say 'The man is crying' then the reader makes up their own mind
AbstractionAbstractionAbstraction7 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Abstract, abstraction and so on are words thrown around all the time in poetry, and often without much solid – or at least congruent – meaning.
An abstraction is literally a 'taking-away' from something, a vaguer look at a solid concept. For example, we could say that 'animal' is an abstraction from 'cow', or that 'person' is an abstraction from 'telephone repairman'.
An abstraction may also be an abstract noun, though, such as 'love', 'peace', 'death', 'fortune', etc.
Or it may be an abstract verb, such as 'eat' or 'move' or 'take'. More concrete verbs might be 'chew', 'walk' and 'grab', or might entail phrases such as 'eat with cutlery', 'move on foot' or 'take in his hand'.
The logic is that the word is a non-specific generalisation based on an observed event or series of events. All you need to know is that an abstract word is like using a generic template. Saying 'it was love' calls upon well worked, common (trite) concepts of what 'love' means. It contains noth