Post all your writing compositions here. I was looking at the description of the Artist Corner and it says writing... but there is barely any writing in the Artist Corner. So I'm just gonna open this up and let people post there writing work here. I hope people do. :)

Here's some of the stuff I've turned in for school assignments. I don't do much writing otherwise sadly. :(
These were both thrown together really quickly (I procrastinated on them). :)
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Just post stuff you written here. Thanks.

Here's an old (and incomplete) one of mine. I started on it for NaNoWriMo back in 2008 and I've since tabled it due to college work and taking on another project that has higher promise (Reflect ~ The Other Side) which I have been working on for over two years now which will eventually be made into a Visual Novel by Studio Lycoris -- if I ever complete it.

Dagwood - The Light of Terra 13828



Also I have several poetic pieces that I wrote in the old poetry and prose threads that appears to have died. I'll post them here to centralize them.

My personal favorites are:
Another Place
Cleft
Forbidden Thirst
Moment -- My Absolute favorite
A Story


Another Place

An eternal bliss that plays upon the water,
as if just to tease the eyes,
it's nature's fodder!
As I sit there, it plays a reprise,
As I sit there, in my reverie.

My lust, my soul; please don't flutter,
The reverse I beckon, I shall never utter.
Thrise the song play,
And the sun brings a new day.
Will the third leave,
Or will it stay?
Just like a field of cotton;
Sky mauve sew,
Luna pricks her wiskers,
And then I shall see you.

Of blacken aura, the skys gray,
In that path the darkness only leads the way.
Of sandstone white, with stars smiling upon thee?
A crimson red,
the rose drinks the blood of my soul,
and the song begins yet again.

Steping forward now, the song remains true,
Not an echo, this dissonant tune!

Eyes are flutter, night sky high.
I see you now, about to cry.
I reach and touch your face,
Just to find I'm in another place.


Carbuncle

One that joins together and
Another that twines the rope to two.
Regardless of the glances and stares that follow in my path,
I shall take the next step.
Sorrows and pains shall shower upon me.
I will wear my shame as a badge of honor,
Then you will see what I can truly do.
Even though the rope is in two,
It can still be made as one.

Only from my past forgotten can you see what I am.
Stretching, meshing; the time wavers.
The smoothest of oil cannot aid these cracks that I have left.
The path dry and cracked, desolate.
I will carry you upon my shoulders,
And you will gently dust my mind.
I wish to forget these things that have long past,
The pain is unrequited, though shared inside.
These burns will never fade.

Now I sit inside my room.
The light pierces the stretching shadows.
The second rope long forgotten, and the floor underneath
No longer receives my feet.
I walk, an empty shell, no dream of pride.
In the solomon comfort, my melancholy upheave.
My eyes widen as the light goes through,
There lay the rope, that was one then two,
It became three in one; something new was born.


Cleft

It pangs my soul,
I feel it mixing inside of me,
Something that I cannot hold,
That which is someone else's decree.
A mindset I cannot fathom,
For it is not mine.

A mind that sends me to a chasm,
It only confuses me with signs
Of what I believe I should be,
That of which it should be,
And of that which it could be,
That which I do, yet can't be.

It doesn't make sense to me anymore,
this other me.
The voice I used to trust,
The body I used to move,
The eyes that lemed me the new world
A touch of what my miracle used to be.

Things we reach out for,
Things we wish upon in the future,
These things are what we search for.
From our borne cry, the birth of our creature,
Eventually, we'll become lost.
Only to be expressed in a daffodil,
Hidden in a white lily.

Who am I?
What am I?
Am I who I think I am?
Or am I who I reach for?
Or what I wish for?
Or am I lost?



Dagwood Kindling

This dream...

It keeps reoccuring. The inkling of spirit ... that is left within me trembles at the thought. The salvo of fire; not that of war, but of thought... The pure awe of the Hyle ripples downward to my feet and causes my body to purr with fear ... I try to sharp my breath, but it was as if I was stuck ... under the mire. Left force, right twitch; I work on my left, only to betide my own weird, and ... remain within my cloud. Right shift, left jerk; the muck that surround my feet slowly shifts, as the embers near my head...

...[T]hick is the night air as I part my hand on my face...

Dreams

Dreams come and dreams fade,
Waltzing about in a serinade.
The Mist arise,
And the focus dies,
The color white arives.

The dew drops and falls up,
Serching of an ever deep cup,
"The simplicity of complexity!"
It says to me,
When the thought leaves reality.

The rising sun, and falling moon,
It seems like an everlasting June.
Darkness arrives in the brightest of days,
Leaving a maze,
That one cannot a-raise. (doh! that word doesn't exist...)

The white and black turns to grey,
The music whispers to dismay.
The Mist dissolves,
To reveal a grand hall,
That exists for all whom falls.


The Kingdom

Come ye soloist, bring a song,
A lyre, a tome; gather quickly now.
A spirit do take on my lips and my words,
A story be told, the waltz begins now.

The full moon doth lasteth upon thine great sea.
The waltz in three moves with unity.
There's only one spirit can move freely,
But shadows of light reflect upon thee...

Come ye warrior, sword with bane,
Thy spirit, thy quiver, thy arm, thy queen.
You live by the sword, you must not be sane,
Your heart rest asleep, your soul is unseen...

The full moon doth lasteth upon thine great sea.
The waltz in three moves with unity.
There's only one spirit can move freely,
But shadows of light reflect upon thee...

Come ye mage, mind set afree,
Through scripture you etch upon the fiend.
The book at hand, burns o'er your soul,
The will-of-the-wisp doth eat of it whole...

The full moon doth lasteth upon thine great sea.
The waltz in three moves with unity.
There's only one spirit can move freely,
But shadows of light reflect upon thee...

Come ye maidens, 'dowed in pain,
You're hopes and your dreams lie still in the cage.
You give of your body, your not the same,
The memory impress did on the mage...

The full moon doth lasteth upon thine great sea.
The waltz in three moves with unity.
There's only one spirit can move freely,
But shadows of light reflect upon thee...

Come ye shadows, embrace the mind,
Drink of the blood, and bathe in my voice.
My wish is to curse this land of vine,
I have no wish to remain in solace Boyce...

The full moon doth lasteth upon thine great sea.
The waltz in three moves with unity.
There's only one spirit can move freely,
But shadows of light reflect upon thee...

Come ye party, defend the hold,
Reflection through two, ripples unfold,
The bane, the beauty, the scribe; now cold.
The destined meeting has now fixed the mold...

The full moon doth lasteth upon thine great sea.
The waltz in three moves with unity.
There's only one spirit can move freely,
But shadows of light reflect upon thee...

Untwine the lyre, and
Strum a chord.
The story is done,
The legend is told...



Memory

The wind blows,
A light blooms,
A desire wanted,
Never consumed

The dream lived,
The memory faded,
Fate lived,
The mind resides

A rose blooms,
Courageous yet,
Wilt its stem,
The gem betrayed.



Moment

There she was; sitting.
Everywhere I look,
The walls stand bare.
It really is befitting.
The only thing I could do is stare,
For at the centre was a book.
And a girl with long hair.

And in this book was a story.
It was a story written for the girl,
For she was the only one that could read.
On the floor, next to a morning glory.
She adjusted the bookmark, covered in beads,
And took a locke of her hair and gave it a swirl.
Pondering her deed.

I reach out to her; arms wide.
But it seems that there's nothing left for her.
For in this barren room, lacking colour,
She remained where she was, with pride,
Even though the walls grew taller.
The moment was but a blur,
Growing duller.

Then, at final peak,
The flower withered and died.
The book flung open with a gust.
There was a visitor for me, he seek.
Argue I did, but he told me I must.
And with the girl right there, I sighed.
Her memories will only be bleak.

The girl, once sitting, now stood.
The book, once read, now blank.
The flower, once bloomed, lay dead.
And wonder she would,
Of this day, where she saw red.
And when she sank.
For her father lay without his head.



Presence

I am everywhere, yet nowhere.
I am within everyone, but separate from people.
I exist within the memories that lie within others,
Yet those memories are mere fabrications that the emperor plays with,
As the children tickle his feet.

My Blood, My Flesh,
My Mind, My Dream,
My Hand, My Foot.
None which to call my own.
Be it not the Phoenix that captivates the soul,
But a mere ember that burns.

Why is it that dreams feel real, and reality fake?
Everything's so transparent,
So clear.
It's like my eyes cannot adapt to the surroundings;
My fingers--hollow--as I reach.

If so,
Where is here,
And here is where?
Step one, left foot--I move forward.
Cross.
Step two, right foot--The road quivers.
Cross.
The path is gone.

There is no left,
There is no right.
Both up and down diffuse,
And all four corners meld to one solid square.

So I toss the Iris to the left,
And the pedals scatter to spread it's trinity meaning,
Only for naught....



Rosa

The wind that climbs the mountain;
It moves to the reflected light.
The pale leaves dance whimsically;
Twirling, Twirling, Twriling.
The sea swells a brilliant crescendo;
It's symphony building.

How long must this night exist?
For I have committed sin.



Shangri-La

And so Shangri la split in two with the flames of a human soul.
So that nothing shall remain of the paradise but sand and glass.
As you pick each shimmering piece up to the light, and not a shimmer, nor glisten, shall spawn.
A paradise lost.
A punishment served from the few to the many.
Know that we once existed.
We existed in in the land of Shangri La.



A Story

Tell us a story.
Make it a good story.
Will the story be a happy one?
Will the happy story be a sad story?
But is the story true?
Is the truth a story?

Will the story have a knight?
Will it be a white knight?
Will there be a black knight?
Knights are very nice.
And very nice is the Knight.

So this story,
A very true story,
There is a knight,
A very nice knight.
If there's a knight,
then is there a princess?

Tell us, is there a princess?
A lovely princess
Is the princess a princess?
Who did you make the princess out of?

Is the princess dressed in white
White like the Knight?
Or white as my skin?
White like a light?
Or as sweet as me?
Or as me?

Did the princess come from your mind?
Is this princess made up?
I love princesses.
and I love the princesses too.

Did you make the story up?
The story that is true?
Who did you think of
When the story came to you?

Was it me?
Or was it me?
Or possibibly was it someone else?
Some one other than us?

Are both of us in the story?
Did the story make us?
Please stop teasing.
Please tell us!
Tell us the story!
A good story.



Whom shall hold my sanity?

So gently the tongues licked on the tail of my feet.
Proceed forward or reduce ten-fold?
As melody continues on, as the harmony defeat;
The stardust wish that the dreamer hold.

With every step I take it ripples,
And my image follows suit.
Perhaps Kipple?
Or of moot?

Desprately I try to reach past,
Only to redirect to a suit of different mass.

Forever watch,
Forever date,
Forever wish,
Forever neigh.

Untrue, and unjust--my dream shall ever be.
The dust falls without gilitter, see;
No melody exists,
The Harmony permiss.
-To whom shall hold my sanity?

And there the glass shatters,
And the world opens to the matters.
I reach out and grasp the light,
Only to be burnt by my desire so white.

I didn't know you write M... then again... I never asked.

cablecar1... I actually enjoyed The Highwayman. It was poetic, witty, and very well composed. I'm not too sure about the other one though. It was too ambiguous for me. I didn't know who was speaking. Anyway... good job with The Highwayman.

M... you definitely seemed to have been writing for sometime... or at least know what you want to illustrate with your imagery and words. I'm not expert in writing so that's pretty much all I have to say.

Thanks Ander!
I wrote The Highwayman a few weeks ago. The other one wasn't very thought out. I just threw it together because I had to turn it in as an assignment. I wrote that one near the beginning of the school year.