Design a country work sheetDesign a country work sheet5 years ago in Settings More Like This
For those people who needs to design their own world.
This is a form I will use from now on to help me design it faster and more complete.
original from: droemar's journal
Edited by mayshing 2010
Colors: (An example would be red, white, and blue)
Symbol: (An example would be stars and stripes.)
calender measure (time table): (Does their calender go by the moon, or sun? Or other planets?)
Races: (The races that inhabit the area, whether or not they're native.
Physical: (The ethnic description of your race: skin color, hair color, builds, dress)
Preference to fashion and beauty:
Weather patterns: (Tropical? Stormy? Cold? Earthquakes? Climate in general?)
-how the weather influence inhabitants behavior, travel
Major river and lakes?
Any construction a
alannahlilting clouds in your glass of cabernetalannah4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
are imagined weather conversations
with people you used to know,
used to know pretty well and
whether you should have left
the way that you did
all carpet bags and old clothes
the fog funneled through
holes in the train windows like
burned down cigarettes
you light your own and think
remembering is muscle
stretched taut over bone
The Imperfection of Style 1. IntroductionThe Imperfection of Style5 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
When you sit down to read a piece written by Baudelaire you do not expect Dickinson sentimentality, nor a Shakespearean wit or Poe's possessiveness with phonetically eeriness. You do expect a Baudelaire experience. But what is a Baudelaire experience? What makes Baudelaire a Baudelaire in comparison with Poe - is it the tonality, details, sentiment, or maybe the vocabulary, sentence construct or themes; Might it be the concepts, or maybe a certain point of view or an angle? Can you create your own style by analytical and critical thinking, learning the hypothetical curve and scale of those degrees, or by comparing different styles and reaching a sort of virginity in style, that which is uniquely you. Who is that which you describe through your style if not a human being, the imperfect creature of them all, and can we, by describing the imperfect, reach perfection?
The chase for Perfection in the creative and artistic world became an
On ForgivenessOn Forgiveness3 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
After I went to Confession this morning I began to consider forgiveness. As I did, I returned again and again to myselfbut I don't mean egotistically. I reflected on when we sin, especially when it's that embarrassing, stupid, every-time sin, and how we tend to get upset with ourselves, feel ashamed, and many other things. For the one who has faith, he looks to Christ to forgive him. This in itself is not bad at all.
I then began to wonder: We reach out to be forgiven and we entreat God with sighs and tears. But the truest fruit of that forgiveness (and mercy) is a conversion, a change of heart. But I think there is another aspect, namely that we have to allow ourselves to be forgiven as well. If there is a gift that someone gives it must also be received. And how do we receive a gift? With gratitude, of course.
The gift of forgiveness, however, is no mere gift. It is one of the greatest gifts.
We should consider how the Lord sees us when He forgives us: he is like the bridegroom
Newspaper SuitI am a charlatanNewspaper Suit3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
peddling fraudulent wares
but nobody else can see
where adhesive didn't stick.
And you'd think the paper trail
from the newspaper suit
would give it away
but the pictures keep smiling
while underneath gangrene begins
and happy happy faces
mask the smell
the hungry look...the hungry look,the hungry look...2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the gully of your throat like wraiths,
we can feel you rusting, lost one;
i know that drainpipes and fenders
begin to crackle after winter wet
and that there’s a touch of snow
in all of us,
but no one,
no one could hold you as tightly as you do,
your whole body, bloodless in this arrest,
and if you will not let your fetters show
i will show you
there’s a place for going, and you haven’t gone there yet;
where quantum particles, once in contact, can retain a connection
even when separated
wander up to a stranger
with your shirt inside-out
and say ‘don’t mind me, i am just a deer come out to observe the world’
some strange magic, that once done, cannot let go
The Gentlemen's Alliance #1Mr SensibleThe Gentlemen's Alliance #12 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Mr Sensible likes his coffee flat and dark, the same tongue-searing temperature every single morning. He gets up before the birds do to have his shower, and thus always smells of a mix between roasted coffee beans and that strange almond stuff he uses for his hair. He is clean shaven, and his hair doesn't flop down over his face. He looks his age and acts his age.
When you first meet him, you don't like Mr. Sensible much. But he can carry good conversation and he admits he has a smile he saves just for you. He never has to chase you because unlike most men he can keep up. You go out together without the company of others as friends at first. He shows no romantic interest in you for ages, until one day someone tries to ask you out and he slips his warm hand into yours.
Mr Sensible always has time for everything because he's always a little bit early. He has time to zip up your dress and compliment you on your looks. He doesn't shower you with affection because he knows it si
Bronze JohnBronze John3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's fever season
and the city shutters
its walls and streets,
closes up shops
and drops an awning
over the river.
Pontchartrain is clogged
with yellow flies again
and the soft warning
of women's skirts
disturbs the dust.
Breathing does no good here -
the lungs still sag
in the heat
and skin is soon pocked
by travelers in the dark.
Each brick shifts and protests,
wondering what is wrong
and why no one
is growing old.
Only the doctor moves,
stepping on cracks
like a criminal
in search of miracles
WhisperI want to create an aromatic sea of jasminesWhisper3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and stardust mountains of silver and —
Inkblot skeletons with paper mache
hearts, whose bones shall burn with one glance at the
sun; gravestones of blood diamonds and tears of thistles...
Harp strings ringing in grotesque harmony, screaming
for slender fingers to pluck and caress with devotion.
I want to write
All Falling in the EndYou start with yourself.All Falling in the End3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Before anything grand can happen, you have to make a decision. A vow of dedication to your cause. Your ideals. Your path to reforming the world. The one that won’t forget you to the last seconds of your life and far beyond in neither heaven nor hell. Now that you have picked your door in the corridor of choices, you walk in, and the door locks itself behind you. The exhilarating click of devout commitment.
You start with a person.
It’s surprisingly hard to wield a knife properly, but your palms aren’t sweating. Cool and clenched and excited. Confident, too, that you can achieve what you set out to gain. You finish, and the curtains are raised on the show you’re about to steal. The things you do are nothing short of theatrical and grand, just like a musical with marionettes as actors. You are the planet’s new puppeteer.
You work with the world.
They’re afraid. They’re amazed. They’re in love. Their cries of pain an
THE UNDERWEAR MAN"Hello?"THE UNDERWEAR MAN5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Hi, my name is Buddy and I'm a representative of Smith & Winston Enterprises. We're a company that conducts surveys geared towards females and feminine products. Do you have the time right now to participate in a short survey, miss?"
The voice at the other end was steady and professional. I, too, work for a company that makes phone solicitations, so I immediately sympathized with the guy, figuring he had goals to meet and people to please. They probably wouldn't let him go home until he reached a certain participation percentage or something of the sort.
"Sure, Buddy, question away."
"Great! Thanks. How old are you?"
"Okay, and what brand of underwear do you wear?"
Poor guy. It takes a brave male soul to call up women and ask them about their underwear. I figured this job must have been his last resort. Perhaps he was laid off at his other job and had children to feed.
"Exactly what kind of underwear is it? Tho
Born AfarWe would beBorn Afar7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Matter of fact.
I'd turn into Penelope.
Pen-e-lope, like cantelope;
she was ripe, over ripe perhaps,
withered with the waiting years,
Penny parched from rolling tears-
enough to swim him home.
If he was water you are stone.
Sandstone. Solid. Something -
young boys need to cling to, something -
a bow to fit the string to, something.
That's not me but it's something.
You would be
weighted and one.
Entirely a second son,
a second son and quite undone,
Stay. Smile upon my
wasted weaving fingertips,
shun your father's treasure ship
and hold me close, alone.
JarsMy childhood home, a gray, old farm house, sat nestled near the small town of McKean Pennsylvania. My father moved us there from Pittsburgh in 1954 when I was no taller than a limp potato sack. I was their only child at the time. He said the city was no place to raise a family. We needed room to run and explore and my mother needed a quiet place to work on her writing. However, in three years of living there she gave birth to four of my brothers. So much for peace and quiet. There must have been something in the water.Jars4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Folks in town liked to whisper about that house like it was some kind of architectural Jezebel. By the time I could spell my own name I had heard dozens of rumors and stories surrounding our home. There were certainly enough to keep my young mind racing through many sleepless nights. Some of the more elaborate stories suggest a mass murder of the previous occupants by their deranged
ObservationObservation3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
You just need focus,
the tree is the simpler task.
One must expect blurred edges,
truth inferred rather than seen.
C'est Amour, Vampire StyleMy Darling,C'est Amour, Vampire Style8 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Please, visit me again. I die a little more each night you arent with me, each time I turn, restless in my sleep, to find myself alone.
I know that you are scared, and I cannot blame you for that, I too was scared, at first. But I have come to terms with this affliction, and I hope you too will accept it soon, and return to me.
Do you remember our vows? I swore that I would stand by you, protect you, love and worship you with every fibre of my being. I know I failed you, my love, and the weight of that blame lays heavy on my shoulders, but I still stand, and I shall not fail you again, I swear to you with all my heart and soul.
Please, when you receive this letter, when you have read these words, remember our life together, the good times, when we laughed with one another, the sad times, when I held you and rocked you as you cried. Please, please remember me, and remember yourself.
I know that you have fled to protect me, but in doing so you have hurt me more tha
haikuwrimo summer 2008haikuwrimo summer 20087 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
sayokaze ya kareha hitokire michiwatari
the gentle night breeze-
a dried leaf
ventures across the road.
iro aseta shashin wo terasu nishibi kana
upon a faded photograph,
the westerly sun.
nodokeshi ya sharin no mae de hato tudou
in front of car wheels.
kasa no iro ooku ni ame wa furituzuku
colorful umbrellas on the walkway,
the incessant rain.
yuuyake no furui rouka ya meshi kaoru
old corridor in evening glow-
rice fragrance wafts.
I've Lived Too Late, Too LongBefore I die I want to feel tears of happiness on my cheeks and taste deprived laughter on my tongue. I want to have lived a strange and mysterious lie, but I hope that I've planted the truth in every child's head I've touched.I've Lived Too Late, Too Long4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
In my heart I know that I wish to experience hate and tip toe along the lines of love. There is no point in living a bland and unexciting life for that is not living at all. For my right to breathe and survive I'll have fought disease and vanquished those who would put me down. In my hand I'll hold a swatter and squash mosquitoes carrying vanity and meekness because I refuse to be infected.
In the evening I'll walk in copper fields whilst the sea laps at my feet. My mind will remain open whilst my soul curls in to protect itself. Straining, I'll listen for your voice, hoping to hear it one last time before the rot within me finally conquers my strength and determination. I need to hear your tenderness hugging tightly to w
Even ThoughThere will be no caged fingers,Even Though4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
no tendons finely tuned to A from tension.
There will be no clenched teeth, gritting rosin,
to make the final singing note growl.
There will be unwinding bed-sheets,
hands slowly releasing the tuning pegs.
There will be slowly sliding scales
as the four limbs loosen past playing.
There will be a simple, quiet exit,
not to ovation, but to a hushed audience
who anticipate an encore,
even though it is uncertain.
placing you in picturesI dream such small dreamsplacing you in pictures7 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
skin to skin upon waking
please say you'll come home
October EyesSuch gentle colors drip across your freckled shoulder blades.October Eyes3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A quilt of puddled watercolors soaked in auburn shades.
Spun of golden rivulets and rinsed in autumn skies,
So many endless currents swimming through your lonesome eyes.
Brushing under fingertips and over shattered songs,
Unraveling like morning glaze against my paling palms.
With beauty like October hills and hollow as the skies,
The water drops against the earth will be our lullaby.
2.28.12today, i deposited the2.28.123 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
contents of my stomach
into an open, wanting
i, a liquid solid
am readily taken down
into its belly
where i decompose.
my throat is a raw
i use to
sing off key
i have a fever.
my temples are
and my skull
trapping the heat
it's like i have cysts
between my bones,
in my veins.
i lost my legs along the way
down into the abyss.
but i don't mind.
their muscles ached
i'd often thought of
still, i am left with
and they all creak,
and they won't shut up
and let me sleep
that must be why i never
can never be deep enough
to submerge me.
tonight, i'll sweat
myself out through
my pores and
always about the
same bones &
The Opus TyrranopteraPhotographer: SAY CHEESE!The Opus Tyrranoptera2 years ago in Drama More Like This
FLASH! The photographer took a picture of a group of students dressed in robes and mortarboards, and they were the entire creative writing group, including Caolan. They each had their degrees with them, all rolled up. They each then disbanded, and Caolan met with Keeluna, who was also in a robe and mortarboard. They both hugged.
Keeluna: Aww, I’m so happy for you!
Caolan: Me too!
They both kissed.
Keeluna: Can you believe it?! Three years already!
They were at Callufrax University, with many other students getting their well-earned degrees and meeting eachother, saying goodbyes, crying and hugging.
Keeluna: Come on, let’s go and meet the others.
They then walked to the student restaurant, where they met with the others.
Chris: Hey guys!
Each of them shared hugs, handshakes and pats on the back.
Caolan: Congratulations to all of you! We done it!
Hypno: Indeed we did! Although I don’t quite know where the sandwiches are…Oh!