Setting SailSetting Sail10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I stretch to look upon an ocean
vast and bleak,
thrilled by the Asian face
to shed a shine of glossy varnish
and leave untrammelled beauty
still intact after so long.
Inside, the hauling up of cargo,
fresh oranges, limes,
and something surly to go with bread:
musty bookends prop charts uncanny;
luminance at the windows,
in dead of night deckhands sweat at work.
Stare down quickening tide, white with breakers,
no need to look further
while the foam of distance flails
and taunts with beckoning candour;
nostrils screaming the scent of bitter salt,
and thistles grow down to the beach
using space without reservation.
Put your shoulder to this buttress,
boys; the dam un-breached.
For every breathing outcast, learn to sail
and let's be turning South;
rope and sandalwood decks adrift
in unquiet fire,
shout Truth from each loosed tirade.
I look again to the sea amassing
strength to challenge.
My will to live breathes spray anew,
enough to gasp at Dachau.
As the Angels Cry, We FadeThere's a myth of why it rains,As the Angels Cry, We Fade7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And that's when Angels cry.
But now I have to ask myself,
For what reason?, Why?
I believe they weep for us
And the state of the world we're on.
For changes that are made today,
And things that are far forgone.
And now, as trouble swells,
So do the Angels' eyes.
The rain starts picking up
To signal our demise.
But now the question is,
When will the rain fade away?
And whenever it finally does,
Will we be there to see the day?
The Writing ProcessWhat is the Writing Process?The Writing Process7 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
_classy girls sometimes i'll watch you while you talk,_classy girls8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the way your perfect mouth seems
to form every
The Bookworm LamentsThe Bookworm Laments11 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
We all know the advantages of being a Bookworm – the richness of imaginative experience (a.k.a. day-dreams), the broadening of horizons (a.k.a. someone else's ideas), the constant friend always by your side (a.k.a. book) and vast built-up reserves of general knowledge (a.k.a. trivia). But who talks about the disadvantages, huh? Besides the all-pervasive semi-myth about geeky bookworms (Simply stated, the myth goes Bookworms are geeky), who can speak, off-hand, about the problems, the real problems?
Think about it – you excavate your nose from the Lord of the Rings (the one they made the movie on, yes) and realise that in the past hour, your mom has volunteered you for dishwashing duty, your boyfriend has left you (you're not sure why, you weren't paying him any attention) and a little dog has begun to gnaw on your ankle… It's just so easy to get lost in the make-believe worlds the authors lay down for you – for that matter, it's easy to lose yourself in a book
our sex. your hair.it's nights like theseour sex. your hair.7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when I love you most. when
you're gone but I swear
I can feel the tips of your fingers
on my shoulder blades
or pushing the hair
from my eyes,
my lips (my lips on
you leave me hot
and flushed, not sleeping,
not breathing but craving
your arms, your teeth,
your body. run my hands
over your trembling stomach
ragged and breathing
on top of me, like
I could burn imprints of
myself into you. to be all yours.
but you're not even here.
I want to give everything I have
I cry out your name like
angels sing (like
heaven came inside of
until I wake up wet and
collapse into the pillow and inhale
the smell of spring,
sex, and your
Shooting StarOnce I wished upon a star,Shooting Star8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
To fulfill my hearts desire
For I long for a maidens kiss,
Instilling myself in endless bliss,
So I would no longer tire,
When my heart is in fire
A star has fallen,
Over the hills of pollen,
Where the lions shall stride
And unicorns would ride,
Exclaiming my lifes swollen
Desire I must seek.
I journeyed out of the wall
Before the night sky will fall,
Over the woods so scary,
Where the creatures are merry,
For I shall answer her call
Into the woods I shall wander,
Beneath the moon I shall ponder,
Finding the star in a dense
Forest filled with trees so tense,
Full of the forests own wonder
And there she is
The star that I have seek,
Hiding in the shadows so meek,
Wondering what will be in store,
If I find myself and restore,
What my hearts desire could lead.
Because this is not the end,
For my heart will surely bend.
I Loathe the UndeadI Loathe the Undead11 years ago in Humor More Like This
I loathe the undead.
They're always whining about "brains" and "guarrrgh" all the time and they're clawing at you with their nasty clammy maggoty-infested hands and biting your wife with their rotten yellow teeth and trudging along in a big stupid horde, losing their limbs all over the place and blocking traffic like they owned the world. Would you believe there was a zombie stampede on the I-41 this morning? Yeah, they held up traffic for like an hour. It was a huge stampede. They made me late to work and I think they almost cost me my job. Never mind that the boss has been later for less important reasons than a zombie stampede.
Some day I'm going to stick him in a room with a zombie in it and see how he likes it.
Anyway. I would have been later to work this morning ('cause I think that stampede's still going on, I mean they just said on the news half an hour ago that the last body count was like sixty, and that's way too many for just an hour-long stampede) if I hadn't gone and inst
8th April, 19738th April, 197310 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Avignon knows that April has arrived;
a week has passed, and perfection closed -
who has seen the crazy life inside?
The Man recants, his life deformed, perhaps,
should shelter become intensified
and an easier existence found for tortured Art.
When War came, and open flowed expense,
can curling pleasure hurt the Earth
now that pain is documented?
In Heart's true strength the burden passed
into quiet ceasing moments; years;
fragrant pastures blaze in golden light.
She is softness, your Renaissance, old man;
ninety famous stretches, fulsome workaholic -
pretty Jacqueline, clothed at last; your love.
Existent Part 1Only his eyes were different.Existent Part 16 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Everything else about the boy was all too familiar to Alfons Heiderich.
He sat upright in his hospital bed, staring distantly at his roommate Edward and his younger brother.
The one called Alphonse Elric.
He hadnt believed it to be true, but sure enough, Edward had been telling the truth all this time. He did have a younger brother who looked just like himself, which also meant that Edward was truly from another world. The thought sent shivers down Alfons spine. He gave a whole new definition of the word foreign.
Of course, since he and Edward had met, Alfons had initially noticed Edwards eccentricities. His unusual golden eyes had drawn him in like none other, and he couldnt have abandoned him back then, when the boy was so lost, his only relative having left him not long before. His brother Alphonse was equally as exotic, with features just a touch darker than Eds.
Despite sending Edward through the gate an
I remember you from trainsI remember you from trains11 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The next train to depart from Platform One will be the four-thirty-two, Flinders Street, stopping all stations to Flinders Street except East Richmond.
...And right on time again, she shows up. Yellow t-shirt and denim skirt. Today, she's wearing glasses that I haven't seen her with before and they make her look like a librarian, especially combined with the long, deep, deep, brown hair. I don't need to look her up and down like I have in the past. I have her memorised. After seeing her every Sunday at the same time for six weeks, I could almost convince myself that I know her. After all, I have seen a multitude of her moods. I know how she looks when she rubs her eyes, when she walks, when she smiles, and when she closes her eyes. I could nearly fall in love with her for real when she's asleep.
The train arrives, I open the door for her and sit down about six seats away facing towards her. I have to do this surreptitiously though. I can't let her know that I've chosen t
Star-SentOnce there was a girl who was in love with the night sky.Star-Sent5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She had visited planetariums and read children's books on astronomy. She had learned to identify nineteen different constellations and would always look for them on dark, clear nights. She had gotten her father to stick glow-in-the-dark stars and planets to her bedroom ceiling. She had eaten freeze-dried astronaut ice cream and thought it tasted better than anything else in the world.
As time passed the girl began to learn about the universe, about things like asteroids and black holes. Little by little she came to know the invisible forces that governed outer space, and the night sky became more than just a sky to her. It was a giant treasure box, filled with the secrets of the places beyond earth.
The girl's love slowly turned to longing. She wanted to know the stars through more than just pictures and models, because deep down she believed that there was something in the universe she couldn't find on her own planet. The thoug
Anti-Twilight ArticleThe Twilight series, written by Stephenie Meyer, has become a smash hit all over the world, selling 25 million copies worldwide and 20 million in the United States alone. Twilight, the first book in the series, has been named a New York Times bestseller and Publisher's Weekly Best Book of the Year. Quite a shame, considering the substandard quality of these novels. In asking fans what precisely they loved about these books for the purpose of trying to discover exactly how such novels have become fabulously popular, it seems to boil down to three reasons: One, Twilight is entertaining simply for a fun read, with a rather unique plot line. Two, the fluffy love story appeals to the inner romantic in many, many girls and women. Three, Edward Cullen.Anti-Twilight Article7 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Twilight in a nutshell: Isabella(Bella) Swan moves to Forks, Washington and meets the Cullens, the impossibly beautiful vegetarian(meaning they only suck the blood of animals) vampire family. Edward Cullen, the only single vampire out of the lo
Coping With OCD I suffer from obsessive-compulsive disorder. It is my belief that obsessive-compulsive disorder is misunderstood by the masses. People have a tendency to use it to describe their organizational habits or their fandom obsessions, but it is a genuine affliction, and while it is based on trivial thoughts, the effects of it are far from trivial - they are destructive and powerful. I was officially diagnosed with OCD a few months ago, but I have suspected it nearly my entire life.Coping With OCD7 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
OCD is an anxiety disorder. It is based on obsessive thoughts that cause great anxiety, and in order to relieve those thoughts the sufferer performs compulsions, or in other words: rituals. Each sufferer goes through different rituals, but we all have one thing in common: anxiety. Each individual has their own preferences and their own ideas of how things should be in order to relieve anxiety. Most of us realize that these thoughts and anxieties ar
I Have HopeI have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I have to remember to breathe every time those words come, I dont want to believe it. I still cant believe it. I remember the first time my counselor looked at me and told me that my depression and anxiety might be something more. Great, I thought, What could possibly be worse than this?I Have Hope6 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
Firstly, PTSD is not a disorder that only affects our war heroes, though that is what its commonly associated with. My own first thoughts were: isnt that a disorder for war veterans or someone who witnessed war first-hand? The truth is there are many causes for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, for example: witnessing or experiencing incidents, such as mugging, rape, child abuse, drug abuse, illnesses, car accidents, plane crashes, or natural disasters such as hurricanes or earthquakes can all trigger PTSD.
However, not every person who survives a traumatic event develops PTSD, as we all
Roxas Gets THE TALK"See Roxas," Axel began, "Sex is like Struggle ..."Roxas Gets THE TALK8 years ago in Humor More Like This
"Why is he comparing it to that bloody sport?" Luxord whispered to Demyx as they both play poker nearby.
Ignoring The Gambler of Fate's comment, Axel continues his lecture to Roxas. "Sometimes you score, sometimes you don't.
"And Axel didn't most of the time. With sex that is," Demyx grinned. "Come to think of it, he didn't really with Struggle either ..."
Axel turned red and faced the Melodious Nocturne.
"Now wait just a minute, I scored more than you did!"
"Really?" Roxas asked.
"Uh, no... I mean yes! I mean argh! Ignore him, Roxas!" Axel sputtered slightly.
Youre not doing a good job, arent you? Luxord asked, gathering his winnings while Demyx pouted across him.
Hey, gimme a break! Its not every day I give someone the talk! Axel complained.
Excuse me? Marluxias head pops from doorway. Do my ears deceive me? Youre giving someone the
The Arrogant Open Letter dA VrDear Lavender-Ice, Rimfrost, Kaze-Hime, frzdragon, JohnSu, tickledpinky, teruchan, justflyakite, and to whom else this concerns,The Arrogant Open Letter dA Vr8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'm sick and tired of the things ran here
You guys get to rule the front page all day,
while I see it only for a submission to dA
While you guys get the first pages of the popular section
I strive just to get recognition
I have to come up with something amazing just to get minor credit
you can draw honey and already have journals embedded with it
I know people that get slammed for tracing they didn't do
and others reported for offense they didn't mean to
you all can get away with arth then and your fans will protect you
and shield you from the dA mods like Spitfire of Kazu
I send notes and emails hoping to just get a minor reply
sometimes it's not even about me but about helping someone else
I can't even get a reply or at least a minor excuse
on why you are not responding to me
Well I've had it and I'm offically done.
I'm getting on my soap box and equiping i
Damn that sunDamn that sun10 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
You may think the sun is all good, but I beg the differ.
I say damn that sun!
It was a plain, regular morning for me.
Woke up, drank some coffee, a latte.
Read in the newspaper of the disaster in some third world country, the murder in a local club, some terrorist bombing and a few killed nothing much. I was beginning to feel pressed with time, and so I ran out to the car, when the strong sun outside caught me by surprise. I was blinded for a second, when I bumped into the elderly man walking the street.
I couldn't apologize more, when he fell down, probably breaking some ribs on the sidewalk, just outside my home.
Damn that sun.
I would have stayed, to see he is Ok, or even called an ambulance from my cell phone, but I was late for work. It's a silly excuse, but it was the sun fault.
So I was driving with the damn sun in my eyes, cursing that ball of fire to the best of my knowledge, when I came to the junction of streets I had to cross, to get into my office parking. It was the
How To WriteAbstract: an analytical approach to plotting and writing fiction upwards of 1,000 wordsHow To Write10 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
listenif i don't make itlisten5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
to heaven, promise you will
visit me in hell
Meeting EveMeeting Eve10 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
The alarm rang, its harsh shriek shattering Lucy's uneasy slumbers. Opening her eyes she glanced across at the numbers on the dial. Ten to nine. She read the clock face again. Still ten to nine. With an exhaled profanity she threw back the covers and jumped from the bed. Bare feet hitting cold stone. She glanced wildly around the room for any moderately clean garments and sighting a pair of semi-laddered tights and a black work dress draped rather forlornly over the door handle, she scrabbled to put them on. Glancing over to the clock again Lucy uttered another curse. She was going to be late. She'd have to tell them there was a bomb drill in her building. She wondered briefly if anyone would bother to check up. Probably not.
Once dressed, Lucy made her way into the kitchen, no longer feeling the need for urgency. If she was going to be late she might as well make the most of it.
The apartment was small but adequate; one bedroom, one kitchen and living area, a small bathroom with a sho