[LawlWorthy]

I dabble in poetry, and I havent written anything in what I consider a while. The link below has pretty much everything Ive written. If anybody would like to check it out an leave feedback, that would be cash. Also, if anybody has anything they want anybody to check out, go ahead and post it here. I'm more than happy to read works from everybody [if it isnt like 9001 pages long or something along those lines]

http://www.writerscafe.org/Sayre

I most definitely like my more recent stuff
The Conservative Party
My Bright Blue Eyes
It Isn’t Always the First Impression

[list of my favorites [most to least]]

Id really enjoy some feedback :D

[Arialle]

^_^

[Serah.]

I really liked your Lust to Love poem annnnd the stuff I write fails so I'm not posting it here. :3

[Yukarasaki]

sm'awesome stuff!

I miiiiiiiight consider ramming some of my stuff...depending if I can find it in my external hard drive =3=

[kolosos666]

http://kolosos666.de...2F14727546&qo=1
http://kolosos666.de...2F14727546&qo=2
http://kolosos666.de...2F14727546&qo=3
http://kolosos666.de...2F14727546&qo=6
There's also another story in my gallery called Land of Eden but i hate it...dun read it...srsly, don't!

[dropship]

I wrote this about 2 months ago. It's the only thing I've written in 2010 that I'm content with, so I'll post it here.
---
An Impressionistic Perspective

Contemplation.

Her destination was a thousand highways below, lined with a gradient of what could well be compunction and remorse. Her hands shook, ripe with anticipation, faltering not against the wind that edged her ever away from her little niche. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, she thought—not a burden; never a burden. But maybe, being the burden that she was, that couldn't be helped.

The mouths of a thousand and one paved stones, the screams of a hundred standers by were all that awaited her. Her head pulsed fiercely, yearning to just glance down, mind eager to gain some insight. Emotion showered down on her, looming and lingering around like a low coastal rain. The sky was blinding in high daylight; the sun poured its radiance on her, brushing tirelessly off of the transient wisps of hair that danced freely beyond her midst. The wind abounded with ozone—pure, weightless, inviting. Monotony from below stumbled and tripped to the soles of her shuffling feet, sounds once characterized by distress and apprehension. But up here, it was nothing; up here, it was silent.

Her heels toyed with the fathoms beyond her crude sill. Her heart tensed forebodingly, blood rushing through swell strings like a river of astriction. Blocks of anxiety and anticipation stacked high into her brain. Waves of innumerable incertitude crashed in her mind and jarred her ears, lingering like a flashbang. Question towered and piled torrentially in her head like mounds of debris, unyielding to any sanity that might have remained. Her feet took blows to their stability; writhing, pulsating. Quivering. Trembling.

Had it not been this flurry of vehemence that sent her off, I know not the cause of it.

Backward motion gracefully washed away the grime of moments past; she fell freely and eloquently, nimbly sinking into the inviting linen of blind intention. The wind carried her blithely down the length of a thousand highways, down a gradient lined with evenness and decorum. Euphoria and insouciance danced hither and to in wavelengths, bounding from one pole to the other like phases in a sonata. A bird's eye would've laid vision upon her face, hair fluttering upward like flowing ribbons. She fell, aware and enlightened; enveloped in freedom, cleansed from worry. Her eyes and ears opened themselves to jeers and voices, honks and screams. All the compunction she felt rippled back into her head. Suddenly, for a split second, she found herself back on earth.

And then, it was over.

This post has been edited by Boneface: 22 July 2010 - 05:42 PM

[Rudette]

Chrome � _�, on 29 May 2010 - 11:39 PM, said:

I wrote this about 2 months ago. It's the only thing I've written in 2010 that I'm content with, so I'll post it here.
---
An Impressionistic Perspective

Contemplation.

Her destination was a thousand highways below, lined with a gradient of what could well be compunction and remorse. Her hands shook, ripe with anticipation, faltering not against the wind that edged her ever away from her little niche. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, she thought—not a burden; never a burden. But maybe, being the burden that she was, that couldn't be helped.

The mouths of a thousand and one paved stones, the screams of a hundred standers by were all that awaited her. Her head pulsed fiercely, yearning to just glance down, mind eager to gain some insight. Emotion showered down on her, looming and lingering around like a low coastal rain. The sky was blinding in high daylight; the sun poured its radiance on her, brushing tirelessly off of the transient wisps of hair that danced freely beyond her midst. The wind abounded with ozone—pure, weightless, inviting. Monotony from below stumbled and tripped to the soles of her shuffling feet, sounds once characterized by distress and apprehension. But up here, it was nothing; up here, it was silent.

Her heels toyed with the fathoms beyond her crude sill. Her heart tensed forebodingly, blood rushing through swell strings like a river of astriction. Blocks of anxiety and anticipation stacked high into her brain. Waves of innumerable incertitude crashed in her mind and jarred her ears, lingering like a flashbang. Question towered and piled torrentially in her head like mounds of debris, unyielding to any sanity that might have remained. Her feet took blows to their stability; writhing, pulsating. Quivering. Trembling.

Had it not been this flurry of vehemence that sent her off, I know not the cause of it.

Backward motion gracefully washed away the grime of moments past; she fell freely and eloquently, nimbly sinking into the inviting linen of blind intention. The wind carried her blithely down the length of a thousand highways, down a gradient lined with evenness and decorum. Euphoria and insouciant danced hither and to in wavelengths, bounding from one pole to the other like phases in a sonata. A bird's eye would've laid vision upon her face, hair fluttering upward like flowing ribbons. She fell, aware and enlightened; enveloped in freedom, cleansed from worry. Her eyes and ears opened themselves to jeers and voices, honks and screams. All the compunction she felt rippled back into her head. Suddenly, for a split second, she found herself back on earth.

And then, it was over.

That was an incredible read~ thanks for sharing such a powerful piece of written English!

[dropship]

y u guise dont like 2 write :(

---

The Fireplace

The orange glow of the fire slowly coalesces with the red and green you've come to love over the years. You can hear the murmur of voices rounding the corners of hallways, the sounds fading and being reduced to a quiet sensation as you're able to perceive them; giving to the warmth of the fire. It seems all monotonous from here, the sounds of reminiscing becoming one with the sounds of catching up; pleasure in pain...two ends of the same string meeting at a midpoint. Of course, you wouldn't really know, as you're nothing to do with this conversation; it might as well be silent.

The cold is slowly leaving your hands as they sit, being heated gently by the dancing tongues of fire before you. You notice the windows are shut, locking out the biting winds of the winter night, quelling the shivering and algor that would have been. In the summer months before, you might have welcomed the cold; now, it's unquestionable that you'd want nothing more than to sit here, in the midst of this warmth; you're comfortable.

The heat slowly spreads, gently expands to the rest of you. You're alone here, with nothing but the familiar red and white embroidering the walls. Far enough away from the crowded conversation that's still rounding the corners of the house. Conversations of memories, some talk of what's to be done in the future, maybe plans for next year. Maybe now, you'd like to be a part of it...a lot tells you, however, that you would regret it.

The flames still flicker before your eyes, enticing you to stay. You've got memories of your own to ponder about--those of experiences, friendships, family...some that you know will never be again. The room is empty still, ironically synonymous with your recollection of these things of the past. You've come to associate the red and green hanging over the fireplace with joy and happiness, the kind that you might only get for such a short period of time...

It might do to leave now, to leave the fire and the colors, all the motifs of this joy behind for now and become a part of the bigger picture; you never know what might change from now until next year. It might well do to be a part of all of it.

After all, when you let the desire grow, it's all the more to be savored.