Abandoning PreciousnessThe most important thing about creating art is to create. If you want to be at ease with creativity, you have to immerse yourself in it, and do a little bit every day. Even if that little bit is only to take five minutes while waiting for the bus to come and do a gesture drawing of a man reading his book across the street from you. Or to take the moment to scribble down a thumbnail rough sketch of a concept that occurs to you. Do a little bit each day. Train your brain to think visually.Abandoning Preciousness3 years ago in Editorial More Like This
It can be difficult at first, accustoming yourself to make this small bit of time, because you’ll think:
“I don’t have enough time for it.”
“Art is hard!”
“I’m not good enough yet for that piece I’ve always wanted to do.”
“I’m stuck. Artist’ block.”
These are all excuses. Yes art IS hard. Yes, you might not be good enough yet to do that masterwork that you’ve been dreaming of, but let me le
Winter KingThe Winter King was born of ice,Winter King5 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
His cloak woven of frost.
Those who look into his eyes,
Will be forever lost...
So claims the legend, bold in the telling.
Perhaps it may be true.
For the tale I spin for you now,
Is of one who has beheld their eerie hue.
Each year as the Autumn died,
She'd dance on Barrow Hill,
To the beating of the Heartblood,
As the tired world grew still.
Her steps would turn and twist
Along paths long lost to Man.
Hair unbound to flow around her,
Like the wild grace of Pan.
She mourned the passing of the world,
Into the coming breath of Night.
Tears would slide down her cheeks,
As winter gained its might.
For around her the world was dying,
Flowers failing, their time now passed.
she saw their bowing stems, now dry,
Husks now, their glory in the past.
Winter's cruel breath stole across her,
Freezing in her bones.
Beneath her the grass crumbled,
Deeper still the earth moaned.
The passing of another year,
The death without the sun,
The fading of the day to nig
The Starting PointYou and IThe Starting Point4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Keep running in circles,
Fighting to not say
Those words first.
We don't just dodge
We dodge asking them.
It's not like
The two of us
Don't have enough
To talk about,
But rather, too much.
When you're crazy
Where do you start?
Dangerous WatersYou wriggle your toesDangerous Waters4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Deep into the sand.
The ebbing tide
Tickles your feet,
Begging you to join it.
You relent, and let it
Pull you in
Up to your ankles.
As little broken crests
Swell in your wake,
You start to skip
With the sea-foam,
And it begins to curl
Around your knees.
Each step you take
Draws you deeper
Into the water, until
The swirling suspension
Obscures the sandy floor.
You can hardly see the sea-weed
Begin to touch your legs.
The waves begin
To knock you off your balance
As you wade in up to your waist.
You begin to realize that
You are far away from
The familiar beach
Because you've drifted sideways.
As the water climbs to your neck,
Suddenly, there is a drop-off.
You are plunged beneath the surface,
And the salt-water crashes
Over your head.
Under-water plants start
Wrapping their hands around you,
Dragging you deeper,
Away from the halo of sunlight.
Breath escapes you in bubbles,
And the darkness closes in.
You wake up
On the shore,
It seems that
Someone rescued you.
Untitledwe are in Rome telling the dirt how it murdered its brother.Untitled2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
we are shouting at every historical monument from the books with affection and insult and nobody cares about yesterday.
"he wants to kill himself but he just writes a lot of stories with sad endings. don't talk to him."
i believe in love now. i don't know if i've grown up at all or learned from my mistakes or just lost and lost and lost. i'll write something. i'll write you stories. i'll mean it. i'll run away and never come back. some things never change.
"well the boy was found to have consumed the full body of a small mouse, a penny, broken glass, dirt, whisky... then hanged himself."
i am an abandoned house, i am here, i am still here.
See your Inward EyeIn an ever-changing world,See your Inward Eye2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
faster and faster every day,
you may have lost your way,
overwhelmed by the events;
We are busy the whole day,
thinkin about the bills we have to pay,
thinkin about the things we'll never see,
or what others want us to be;
In our minds wandering,
no time to play,
no time to create,
we just keep frantically running;
But there's something inside you,
something that can make a grey sky turn blue,
something that can make a dull city breathe,
that can make you stop clenching your teeth;
And I here begin to wonder:
"Have you ever stopped to drink some tea,
Have you ever stopped to simply close your eyes and see?"
No one would miss meRoxas "XIII" Strife had an expression that would break the hearts of millions. His bright blue eyes were darkened with depression, and dare his best friend think it, loneliness. The teenage heartthrob was known for his angelic voice with looks to match and wrote songs that broke people's hearts.No one would miss me6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
I didn't think you would leave
I never knew that you would go.
Did you really ditch me?
Will I ever really know?
The people who truly knew Roxas, a number limited to less than twenty, were convinced the smile/smirk he wore in public was a carefully constructed mask that had the worst timing in falling off.
How can you believe that?
I can everything for you.
You threw it all away
How could you?
His bestfriend slash manager was unable to figure out his problem. The average celebrity had issues not being able to be with their family, or having friends. Roxas' family always stuck close by; his older brother Sora even travelled with him.
AkuRoku HalloweenAkuRoku Halloween-I just can't do itAkuRoku Halloween5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Roxas couldn't run anymore. He didn't understand why he was running in the first place. He had the stake; Axel had the fangs. It should be simple; just stick the pointy end in the vampire. It shouldn't be this hard, but for some reason, Roxas thought that maybe, just maybe, he could escape Axel and neither one would have to face up to being on opposite sides of the line. Roxas collapsed onto a bench, tired and sore from fleeing.
"Hey Roxy," Axel grinned, and his fangs glinted in the pale moonlight. Roxas sighed. Why couldn't he just stay away? Why couldn't he save them from their duties?
"Hi," Roxas whispered, sitting up.
"Why did you run from me?" Axel asked, sounding hurt.
"So we don't have to kill each other. We are enemies now, Axel. I love you. I didn't want to have to kill you," Roxas replied sadly.
"You don't have to," Axel prompted, pulling Roxas into his lap.
"Yes, I do," Roxas groaned when Axel nuzzled his neck. Roxas pressed the stake aga
Words"Can you whisper...?" murmured the Other.Words4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Why would you want me to whisper?" asked Speaker with words of concrete loudness.
"Because it calms me down when you whisper."
"Calms you down?"
"Yes," came the sighed reply, "It reminds me of trees whistling in the breeze, of serenity, of waves trapped in shells on the beach and "
The Speaker smiled, "Did you prepare that?"
"All of that you just said."
A puzzled expression flashed over the Other's face, "No, but.... why....?"
"Because," explained the Speaker in the requested whisper, "my voice may sound like trees and waves, but," there was a pause, "Yours sound like living poetry."
"Is that good?"
"No." Smiled Speaker.
nerudai want to read your bodyneruda12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like neruda poem
written in braille,
my fingers searching
the pages of your skin,
gently brushing away
the hair that falls
like a silken bookmark
across your face.
i will work my way
down the page, hands
trembling with excitement,
anticipating which words
fingers will linger
in some areas, reread,
so that on lonely nights
like this one I will
be able to recite
the subtle nuances of
your neck or the mystery
surrounding your navel.
I would try to interpret
the verse for others,
but there is no translation
for your lungs breathing
into the palm of my hand,
or your heart, beating
its ancient tribal rhythms
in correspondence with mine.
Show No Mercy"Show no mercy," she purred. "I'll do it again."Show No Mercy4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He held the blade closer to her throat, it's edge glistening.
Snickering he said, "Not if you're head."
She smirked and brought her neck closer to his knife until it was pressed firmly to her porcelain skin. He searched her eyes for the tiniest hint of fear and found none. It was frustrating, after all she deserved this.
"Fear me!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the empty warehouse. Laughter followed, she was laughing at him.
"I fear nothing. Especially you, Trace."
His grip faltered and the knife hit the cement floor loudly.
"You're evil Natari," Trace whispered.
Natari shook her head.
"You kill people," Trace growled. "You are fucking evil."
"I do recall you threatening my life not two minutes ago," she said.
Trace got off his knees and headed toward the doorway.
"Yeah somehow that's different. You warrant this punishment. Those girls did nothing," he said.
Natari pulled herself to her feet, wiping the dirt off of h
Meeting Prowl's Parents"Calm down Bee," Prowl said softly, rubbing his bond mate's helm, "Your making me feel nervous with all this fidgeting."Meeting Prowl's Parents5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"Calm down?!" Bumblebee hissed, "How can I calm down when your parents are coming here? Incase you forgot Prowl I'm not the best standing mech on Cybertron."
"You've already met Bluestreak and you weren't this nervous," Prowl pointed out.
"But Bluestreak is your brother," Bee said, still fidgeting, "Not your parents. Besides, Bluestreak is a lot like Sunny and Sides sometimes, so I'm used to that. I don't know what your parents are going to be like."
"Then you'll be fine," Prowl said softly, giving him a kiss on the cheek, "If you can handle them, then you can handle my parents easily. Don't tell me now the big brave Cyberwolf is afraid of a pair of Cybertronians?"
"I'm more worried about them and how they'll react," Bumblebee said slightly calmed by the kiss. Prowl couldn't answer that, because just as he was about to, his parents ship landed infront of them.
A new threat - Brothers asunder - ep. 12A new threat - Brothers asunder - ep. 123 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
So… hard. It was like I had been freed from a cage of naught, hung over the gloaming.
I would have screamed, I would have torn everything apart, but my body did not move.
Then, a muffled sigh lit the silence. It was streaming beside me. I turned my head. My neck lamented, blowing gales of pain and fatigue.
Yes. It was my body. Numb, broken, heavy. But unrestrained. The memory of my fight with Pitch yelled, but the touch of my friends, of my family, chased it away.
I drifted back to the past. She and I, sharing in the same bed, taking turns to warm it in the evening when winter was too cruel. All the times I felt her jerking when she couldn’t sleep, or when she had a bad dream. Her tears, her smiles, her whispers when she sought comfort. We were brothers under the moonlight, when everything got thin and pale, and feels flowed out.
Her stern gaze whenever I lied, or pulled pranks. Her lips would stiffen, and I would look dow
En el tiempo que queda hasta medianocheEn el tiempo que queda hasta medianoche,En el tiempo que queda hasta medianoche2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
podría el sol esconderse en los pliegues del cielo,
podrían caminar las aves sobre la cresta de las olas
y podría soñar el aire los sueños que tú sueñas.
En el tiempo que queda hasta medianoche,
las estrellas podrían dormitar al pie de nuestra cama,
podrían las nubes hacer nidos en la tierra
y podrían extraer ambrosía colorada de las rocas.
En el tiempo que queda hasta medianoche,
no quiero que me digas cuánto tiempo queda.
¿Acaso las llamas no se apagan al cabo de unas horas?
¿Acaso no se encienden y duran para siempre?
En el tiempo que queda hasta medianoche,
podría correr mil leguas por tu pecho llano,
podría coronarte como rey de mi único reino
y podría hacer que vieras con los ojos el aroma de un cerezo.
Tú, señor de la hermosura, que guardas las nieblas,
¿allá en tu escéptica pupila, dime si no han brillado
alguna vez los versos de un poema como este
que hoy, inquietos, destilan mis labios temblorosos?
Lloverán briznas de pinos, robles, en
The Dragon In My HeartBroken again today.The Dragon In My Heart4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Think I should go away again.
I think it'd be nice.
Away for ages.
Ages and ages.
And you wouldn't care.
You never did care.
Tonight it is then.
Tonight it is.
Handprints of my misgivings.
Cover my form with love.
Form of black and blue.
A feel I never ever missed.
Grey and white to spill my red.
What is this, dread?
My will is now.
I feel no dread.
My heart is dread.
Red splayed out before me.
Like the form of my loss.
You are my loss.
Misgiving is true,
I thought that you knew.
Red to grey.
Grey to black.
Black did rise?
I feel alive?
Black grew wings like branches.
Wings like firey leaves of the sand.
Scales black like the love I knew.
Why do you look so familiar?
The claws, they dipped in the red.
Red is black,
I cannot understand.
Black grows above me,
The mirror's refraction becomes you.
Black breathed upon my splendour;
Red returned to my form,
Green and blue soon followed.
The weight of past,
What fell from me?
I cannot recall,
Will not recall.
You are not alone (A Jack Frost fanfic)You are not alone (A Jack Frost fanfic)3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A Jack Frost short story
(This is my first time so please if it's not the best take it easy on me )
Sometimes, it’s said that being invisible can be the loneliest idea ever. I mean, that’s true, but what if you are visible, just that you are not noticed? I’m a teenager who doesn’t yet feel like one, my heart still wants to be a child. When I think about growing up into an adult and a life with only a one direction meaning, my heart is in pain. I think what I’m trying to say is, I never want to grow up.
And because of my childish acts, I end up not having to be the most popular girl around. While others are reading teen romance, I’m still reading about Peter Pan and Neverland, or Alice in Wonderland. How could they have interesting lives, while I still believe yet I do not see anything! It’s not fair!
Heck for all I care, take me to a world with a beldam I can defeat so that she won’t sew buttons into my eyes. I don
TarrantI am a man of characterTarrant2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A man of kindness and generosity for her
A man of nobility and rank to my court
I am a Gentleman
I am a dancer
a man that can sing at moments notice
a seamstress with skill and time for it
I am talented
I am a man with beautiful tea cups
a man with a Hare and a Dormouse
a man that drinks with a talking cat
I am a drinker of tea
I am a man with nothing left to lose
a man thinking of things that start with certain letters
a man that served a horrible Queen to save my life
I was a prisoner
I am a man who can make clothes
a man that can dress her head
a man that accents her hair with fabric and pearls
I am a Hatter
I am a man of fiery orange hair
a man with a poisoned mind
a man who's sanity died long ago
I am Mad.
The Book-TravelerI have seen through the eyes of kings,The Book-Traveler2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Through the eyes of beggars,
Through the eyes of saints,
Through the eyes of rogues and knaves,
Through the eyes of milkmaids and warrior queens.
I have knelt before kings and emperors in palaces of wealth untold but folly ruled
And crawled into hovels and huts of the sorest penury but where wisdom abounds.
To the ends of the earth my feet have tread upon
And to the far reaches of both heaven and hell did I traverse,
And all ‘round the universe.
There were wars, but peacetimes, plagues but prosperity,
Oppression but freedom, ignorance but enlightenment.
I saw man kill man, but then I saw lovers united.
I saw more than word can tell or eye can see in a life-long glance.
All because we have books.
Sometimes It's LoveThe soft sound of the rain falling to the ground was soothing to my ears, as was the cool warm breeze that seemed to wrap around me in a cool emerace as I sat on the back porch holding my steaming cup of tea. I was wearing my favorite outfit when ever my man was away on nights like this, his warm large t-shirt holding my body loosely to me, wearing a lose pare of boxers of mine complete my ensemele. I sat in the porch rocking chair with my feet tucked up on the set, making my body rest comfertly to the left side of the chair.Sometimes It's Love6 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Taking a soft sip of my tea I hear the crack of the back screen door opening. I look over and see my son Beau standing facing my direction in his white t-shirt and shorts pjs. He rubs his eyes groggily as if he just got up which was the case since it was ten pm and he's only three years old and I laid him down two hours ago. "Daddy?" he says softly more a tone as if making sure I was out here.
"Yes sweetie? Come here." I said slipping my feet to the soft wood floo
Performers of Ancient IrelandDiodorus Siculus once said of ancient Ireland, "Among them are also to be found lyric poets whom they call Bards. These men sing to the accompaniment of instruments which are like lyres, and their songs may be either of praise or of obloquy" (James 163). Modern bards are different than ancient performers. Today the idea of a bard is typically anybody who performs and leaves a lasting impression. This can include singers, songwriters, actors, playwrights, instrumental players, poets, writers, and even journalists and people in news media. Ancient poets were more interested in teaching lessons than entertaining.Performers of Ancient Ireland12 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
The ancient poets and storytellers of Ireland influenced modern entertainment in many ways, including style, subject of common tales, and the way entertainers are treated in society.
Contrary to popular belief, bards weren't master-poets, nor were they held in high regard as Diodorus Siculus believed. Bards were low-class poets, uneducated in the "true path" of a poet. The filidh
TormentaLos truenos del silencio quiebran la noche. Llueve tristeza, puro queroseno que alimenta las llamas de un dolor que acaba de estallar en lo más profundo de su pecho. Siente cómo su corazón, desesperado, intenta escapar, golpeándose frenéticamente contra sus costillas. Pero no hay escapatoria. No puede escapar. Un ejército de emociones lo terminan descuartizando sin piedad, mientras que un aquelarre de pensamientos torturan su mente hasta enloquecerle. El silencio devora sus lamentos, la oscuridad anula sus sentidos, la noche se bebe su mirada de un trago apasionado. Su cuerpo se marchita envenenado por una ausencia, el verano y el invierno se turnan para violar su memoria. Sus labios articulan un sueño. Sus ojos se ofrecen desnudos a un recuerdo. La locura baila con el caos, burlando a la razón. Gritos que sangran su boca, lengua viuda que la consuela con lascivia.Tormenta2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
The Immortal Regret.The Immortal Regret.3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I see upon a hill,
the setting sun, fleeing from the night...
The moon coming above that horizon for the kill,
to rise and banish to darkness all light.
Though time brushes over creation,
I live on, a slave to immortality.
Though I was the choser of my own damnation,
Twas humanity that was the cause of my brutality.
Now the world around me decays,
unlike my flesh and mind...
Time has left my future in a haze,
and the changing world has been unkind.
I see upon a hill, but another slope downward,
where the pointless journey continues on...
unto to no end is my existence forever moving forward
Nostalgia is dead, as my past is forever gone.