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Poetry
Jul 24, 2005 17:12:30 GMT -5
Post by Frodo on Jul 24, 2005 17:12:30 GMT -5
And besides writings, you can put Poems up too. Just a suggestion. i have to go now - I'm in trouble.
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Poetry
Jul 25, 2005 12:12:25 GMT -5
Post by Gimli on Jul 25, 2005 12:12:25 GMT -5
Spring of 98"
Not Good Enough
Staring at myself, The mirror glares Reflecting a person no one knows.
Looking in my eyes, I see my heart, That no one feels, That no one knows is real,
I pick the pieces off the shelf, Where the mirror is, (Oh I hate myself) It tells the truth, But yet they are lies, All of this before my eyes,
Outside I go to where I am, Looking, maybe someone will understand. The complex Matrix I call my heart, Most of all I can’t start crying.
I hear the whispers, The giggles, I see the stares, They think I’m just not aware,
Well I am, I’m aware I’m not enough, Not enough for you… But I’m enough for me, And enough for God, Even though its hard for me to understand
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Poetry
Jul 27, 2005 14:46:32 GMT -5
Post by Frodo on Jul 27, 2005 14:46:32 GMT -5
I have always liked the way you write your poems, becuase they aren't the usual children's book rhymes that people think have to be a "Poem". Yours are free, and go any where you want them to go, and they always express such a deep emotion that you feel as if you can hold it in your hands. This is a good one! You should put a few more up.
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Poetry
Jul 27, 2005 14:50:36 GMT -5
Post by Frodo on Jul 27, 2005 14:50:36 GMT -5
And now here's one of mine. A simple doo-dad I wrote about amonth ago.
Tending a garden, Walking afield Curiosities never yield Peaceful nature, Quiet voice (Unless it comes to food of choice) Small in stature, Big in heart (But not well known for being smart) Still wonders about the blue of skies Curly hair, Observant eyes Stories always in high demand Ready to lend a helping hand Hobbits.
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Poetry
Jul 27, 2005 17:36:10 GMT -5
Post by Fafmimbaki on Jul 27, 2005 17:36:10 GMT -5
Here's something that I submitted to the school lit. mag., The Red Feather. It got published, but they changed it!!!!!!! Made me very mad. There are still a couple of gramatical errors in it, but other than that they shouldn't have touched it.... grrrrr.
Silver Stair
Silently descends An elegantly dressed girl On a silver stair
Sarah looked around and sighed. She was bored, oh so bored. He was late – again. He was supposed to pick her up at six, and it was now six-thirty. She sighed again and got up from her chair by the window, she might as well change, he wasn’t coming – he never did.
Broken hearted child She climbs back to her refuge Up the silver stair.
For twelve months they had been friends, she couldn’t understand it. They understood each other; they were close, they were perfect for each other. She loved him like she had never loved anyone else, and he assured her that he felt the same.
Desperate for relief She trembles, fighting sorrow, but to no avail Collapsing on the silver stair.
The next day she went to school and went through her normal routine, but her heart was not in it. Lunch came and she sat at her regular table, alone in the corner. She remembered when they had first met. She was the new kid in school and didn’t know anyone. She was in the school lunch line when he came to stand next to her, he didn’t buy a n y t h i n g. People looked at her weird as she t a l ked to him, trying to convince him to get some food. He followed her to a table and they t a l ked. This routine continued for several months until summer came. He promised to visit her everyday, and he kept his promise. She would wait on her doorstep every morning for him to come strolling up her driveway.
Laughing together Sarah and the boy would sit Near the silver stair.
During their friendship they had discovered many things that about each other. Their personalities were remarkably similar. Everythin she liked, he liked. They had the same opinions, fears, and ambitions. He knew exactly what to say to make her laugh. Her parents had t a l ked to her about their relationship. They felt that she needed to spend more time with her peers. They had looked at her weird, just like every one else who saw them together.
Not understanding She contemplates her life Sliding down the silver stair.
At that moment a new girl sat down at the table. “H e l l o,” she said, “I’m Jill, is it okay for me to sit here?” “I’m Sarah, and yes you can sit here. I’m waiting for my friend to come.” That was when she spotted him threading his way through the tables to reach her. Her face brightened and Jill looked to see who she was looking at. Jill’s face became confused as Sarah greeted her friend, “Hey, where were you last night? There’s someone new sitting with us who I’d like you to meet. This is Jill, Jill this is my friend.” He sat down across from her and smiled at Jill. Jill looked at him and the weird look came to her face. She thought a moment and then turned to Sarah, “Sarah, there’s no one there.”
Everything made sense Now the world falls around her All except the silver stair.
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Poetry
Jul 27, 2005 17:48:24 GMT -5
Post by Fafmimbaki on Jul 27, 2005 17:48:24 GMT -5
Question, Why does a n y t h i ng turn into anything?
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Poetry
Jul 27, 2005 17:52:07 GMT -5
Post by Fafmimbaki on Jul 27, 2005 17:52:07 GMT -5
Here's a story I wrote a few years ago, I'll give it to you in chapters. We had to write a story simillar to an already existing fairy tail. It's called, The Ugly Unicorn.
Chapter One The Egg One day in a nest high in the cliffs of Claxima, an egg snatcher was slyly stealing eggs. As he was leaving, the mother of the eggs suddenly appeared and pushed him off. As he fell she snatched the bag from the little man. But the snap on the bag was not closed well and one small blue egg fell with him. The egg rolled down the cliff side until it fell into the river. Soon it arrived at sea and drifted out with the tide. Days later it arrived at a sparkling beach and floated with the tide into a cave stream. Soon the darkness lifted as the delicate object glided out into a low valley stream. A young unicorn was playing with her friends on the bank when she saw the bobbing ovoid. After she pointed it out they carefully brought it to Calpists’s nest. Calpist kindly agreed to take care of it and deftly placed it in the nest.
Months later on a beautiful spring morning the unicorns’ eggs began to hatch, including the new adopted member of Calpist’s family. The entire unicorn community gathered around Calpist’s nest to witness what was in the strange egg. It was the last egg to hatch, and when it did hatch a heavy silence blanketed the area. Finally someone broke the silence. “Well at least he’s adopted instead of some faulty progeny.” “He must be very oriental to not even have fur!” “I don’t think that he’s from the unicorn line.” “His wings are too large to belong to any unicorn.” “He has tree horn snubs instead of one!” “Look at his hooves! They’re not like ours.”
“Well that doesn’t help me any about raising him, and he still hasn’t told us his name.” Calpist said and turned to the quivering hatchling, “Tell me your name young one, don’t keep words from us, speak child, speak!” At first the deformed creature seemed overwhelmed at the sight of the unicorns towering above it, but it eventually found its tongue. “Bobdle! Who are you to insult me, why I should call my mom and she would sorely punish you for speaking like that! Where is my mom anyway, you can’t keep her from me! Hey are you raiding my nest! I can take you all on. I plan on being champ in this battle, I will make you all turn to cinders!”
After that remark he turned to face each unicorn, but they return his gaze with a disapproving air. By the time he turned to look at Calpist he was shaking like a rag doll and all four of his knees were trembling. “Now Bobdle, I am your mother now. Young Lipstit here found you and brought you to me. You are special to be raised on Unicorn Isle.”
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Poetry
Jul 27, 2005 17:59:27 GMT -5
Post by Fafmimbaki on Jul 27, 2005 17:59:27 GMT -5
Chapter Two A Long Life It Seems, Though How Short It Is “Yah, ha, ha, ha, ha, Boodle how you amuse me. You are such a jerk.” That stinging remark was made by one of Bobdle’s “siblings”. Shamefully he hung his ugly head and trudged home through the rain, humming a tune the way Calpist had taught him. After the Matriarch Unicorn’s death little seemed to matter to him. After all she was the only one who treated him as though he was a person instead of an animal, and Lipsit seemed to care too. Calpist’s death had affected the whole community; unicorns often were rude and unkind after a high unicorns death. That was mostly because they were reluctant to change to the way of a new ruler.
“Hey look it’s Goobdle.” Remarked a youthful unicorn with blue tinged fur. As he passed a hatchling of no more than two years it cried, “Doodle, when can we play Dungbung?” “How about now, Tootlefruitle.” After they had played for no more than five minutes Tootlefruitle’s mom came galloping along the path and called out to her hatchling, “Tootlefruitle, what have I told you about playing with that thing!” “It can bite and give you a fright, it will haunt me in my sleep and give me a creep. I wouldn’t play with Calpist’s pet freak ‘cause he’ll beat me to next week. But MOMMM! We were only playing Dungbung.” he replied as he reluctantly followed her home.
That was it, hearing that children's rhyme recited by his friend made Bobdle suddenly feel a longing to leave and go find his own life. A life in which nobody would think he was a glitch from nature. He was thirty now, he should be out being independent. That was what he would do, he would leave. Nobody here cared. That night he traveled to the mountain ridges surrounding the valley. He took one last look at the nesting site where he had hatched and grown up. Calpist had done her best to raise him, and done her best to get him to use his talent of speech. No other hatchling had said as many words as he on their hatch day. His thoughts were random as he traveled across the mountains. When he reached the sea a new day was dawning and the ocean breezes were perfect for long distance flying.
Days later after flying towards the rising sun, he stumbled on a land that was alive with the sound of trumpeting, roaring, and many other unearthly sounds. As he came in for a landing he saw two large male creatures like himself, bickering and wasting their time yelling at each other. Bobdle went and stood by a gaggle of females and decided to ask them some questions. “How are you beautiful young ladies doing today? I’m new to the world and don’t know what is happening. Could you enlighten me?” They chortled and replied, “Where were you raised to not know about the Challenge Dutien, or the Challenge Duty?”
“I was raised on Unicorn Isle, and by gorge, I forgot the manners they taught me there. I’m Bobdle named after the first word I said. What could the names of your beautiful individual minds be?” “Mine name is Calranka,” said one particularly beautiful dragon, “welcome to Dragons Haven one of the most populated dragon villages in the world. If you don’t know about the Challenge Dutien, the point is simple, see who can out challenge the other. But I advise that you not sign up for the challenging because you were obviously brought up better than that. I think you should sign up for the intellectual challenging, or the Intel Dutien. If you win our government might change to be based on your ideas, you might even be elected Dragon King.”
Intrigued at the idea, Bobdle did sign up for the Intel Dutien. His first competitor was an elderly dragon who had won twice before, and was currently the Chief of Dragon Security. Their debate was strongly based on the idea of having a war every ten years as a tradition, which he squashed quite quickly. They then smartly argued about whether the idea of choosing your king from these “debates” was a wise idea, and Bobdle wisely never chose a side. He bested his every opponent and won the golden claw of the Intel Dutien. Later to find out he had been elected as the King’s most trusted counselor. After spending ten years at the King’s side, and courting his daughter, (who just happened to be Calranka), he married her and was promoted to King when her father retired.
Fifteen years had passed since he had left Unicorn Isle, and he had definitely matured a lot since he had left. He had grown in height as well as good looks. Calranka persuaded him to visit Unicorn Isle, for surely they had found a new Matriarch and their grudge had probably worn off by now. Finally he consented and took her and his five hatchlings on vacation to Unicorn Isle. News of his great success traveled fast and the Unicorns on Unicorn Isle were sorry they had treated him badly. They even had a welcoming party there to greet him. They now realized what a handsome Dragon he had grown to be and gladly let him use Unicorn Isle as his capital, and told his story to their progeny for generations to come. When people heard this story they found it to be to complex and changed it to the Ugly Duckling story.
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Poetry
Jul 27, 2005 18:18:08 GMT -5
Post by Fafmimbaki on Jul 27, 2005 18:18:08 GMT -5
And woops, this is for poems.... Oh well!
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Poetry
Jul 28, 2005 15:32:26 GMT -5
Post by Frodo on Jul 28, 2005 15:32:26 GMT -5
Yeah . . . Just poetry. And I think it would be great if someone (other than the author of course) puts in opinions and suggestions on your work before something else is brought up. That way, things don't get jumbled. I'm trying to make this easy, but it could get complicated fast.
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Poetry
Jul 28, 2005 15:48:38 GMT -5
Post by Frodo on Jul 28, 2005 15:48:38 GMT -5
LOVE the silver stair by the way. It's absoloutley STUNNING! It's part poetry/novella or something. What a beautiful blend - and the ending is so perfect. I'm glad it got put in the red feather.
The other one, though - its confusing, and lacks detail. Plenty of imagination, though. And a classic idea. You could definently elaborate on the colors, scenery, and even facial expressions or tone of voice of the unicorns and dragons. You've probably heard it loads of times in English class, but when it comes to writing something like that, especially fantasy, it's always better to show the reader what is going on, and not tell them. Let them go through the experience themselves, instead of explaining it to them.
Now that I've rattled off like a elderly language arts teacher, I need to go find a rusty poem and tack it up here . . . see what you think . . .
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Poetry
Jul 28, 2005 15:50:44 GMT -5
Post by Frodo on Jul 28, 2005 15:50:44 GMT -5
Speaking of red feather, there was a short story I wrote called that. Do you think I should put that in the other thread? (Has anybody read it?)
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Poetry
Jul 28, 2005 19:42:03 GMT -5
Post by Fafmimbaki on Jul 28, 2005 19:42:03 GMT -5
*waves hand in the air* I've read it, and I LOVE it!!!! You should deffinitely put it up!
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Poetry
Jul 29, 2005 16:33:45 GMT -5
Post by Frodo on Jul 29, 2005 16:33:45 GMT -5
Okee-doke. *runs over and scotch-tapes it to the wall* All done!
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Poetry
Jul 29, 2005 16:39:42 GMT -5
Post by Frodo on Jul 29, 2005 16:39:42 GMT -5
Open the door See what you find A drop away floor A symbolic sign A skeleton closet An endless abyss A blood-dripping faucet A figure in mist
Don’t turn the handle Resist walk away save the curiosity for another day
Close the door Come back to earth Roam the cloaked moor Breathe death and birth Begin life in wonder Revive the dusty clock Tear the fortress asunder Deplete every stock
But save the curiosity for another day
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