The Writing Thread

[StreetAngel95]

Originally Posted by ButterCookie

I love the beginning of your song, StreetAngel95!

thank you so much! unfortunately, i'm pretty stuck here. found it's been hard writing about love if you've never had a boyfriend....

[chelluversu]

Originally Posted by StreetAngel95

thank you so much! unfortunately, i'm pretty stuck here. found it's been hard writing about love if you've never had a boyfriend....

haha i know what you mean..

here's one that i did for school..its a found poem that i made from Night by Elie Wiesel its called Shattered Alters but i made it a little different by adding lines that aren't in the book (guess its not a found poem then)

Why do you wear the yellow star?
I don't know.
It's not lethal...
Of what then did you die?
Why did i live?
I don't know.

In a world frought with peril
the joy in his eyes, gone...
He no longer sang.
They refused to listen.
Why didn't they listen?
I don't know.

He walks with his eyes cast down,
avoiding people's gaze.
Why do you pray?
Why do I pray? Strange question...
I don't know.

Oh God, master of the universe,
in you infinite compassion
have mercy on us.

Why did he do nothing?
Does he not love us too?
I don't know.

The alter was shattered.
The wall coverings shredded.
the walls themselves bare.
What happened here?
I don't know.

[daniellaaarisen]

.....I was gonna just keep lurking around here for a while and not post, but I absolutely cannot resist this thread. My blog, for anyone who is interested: http://danidennis.blogspot.com

Some recent stuff (no idea why they both end with "hour", but hey...):

_________________________________________________

My Eleventh Hour

I caught my own breath in my hands
and took the time to breathe it back in--
sweet and satisfied, stale and strangled,
spangled with lavender and sour milk
and what it means to be nationless.

Tell me you smell something different.

Tell me I'm bound to what I give
but never to what I am given;
that I can choose when the balloon pops,
when my corpse falls earthbound;
that the rushed and eager touches
I collect under my bed
can be quilted into
a sickening new height of love.

I can't remember who told me
that I wasn't young anymore.
It might've been the stout cashier woman
who proclaimed me a thief when I
slid a Snickers bar into my pocket.
It might've been my Playboy Mommy:
she warned me of the sins in my blood,
of her own obsession
with a woman's power to unveil.
Or maybe God told me on the day
when he made me suddenly
wretchedly
unequivocally alone.

On this ancient earth, I'm rarely glad to seem young--
until I'm tangled in sheets
and limbs I can't get out of,
until the simplest mechanisms of
a beating heart lose their intrigue
in my stoic desperation for blood.

Tell me you smell something different on my breath;
Tell me I can choose to be boundless.

_________________________________________________

Witching Hour

In September, he found his witching hour,
while the rest of the house was asleep
and I was the only one left
to switch out the records for him—

To sing “teenage wasteland” with him,
to top off his rum for him,
to light his cigars.

In September, it was cool outside
but his body stayed warm.
I sat in the cold with him,
rocked in the wind with him,
my eyes following the furious sway
of his body with him.

But he wasn’t furious with me.

Baba o’Riley excited my father.
“Doesn’t this get your blood going, honey?
“Don’t you just need to hit something?”

I watched him dance with it,
the heavyweight bag flying seamlessly
between his fists.
I watched him with frozen veins,
with all the need in the world
to sit still, to never hit anything
like he could.

He took his last swaggered punch
and I jumped to break his fall—
clinging to hands that know
my blood all too well;
haunted by a breath
that once kissed me goodnight.

[daniellaaarisen]

So I wrote this a few weeks ago and I don't really like it.... but I think its something a little different from me so whatever, I can post it.




Untitled

I broke my wrists and broke my spine and
the entire time that I lay in that bed
I wondered how I’d bend—

I wondered if I could melt the lines
off the clock, or the ones
on my face that I saw
in a familiar nightmare. I wondered

if I could still write with my tongue
if my mouth became dry and my
hands became numb. I wondered

if I ever had anything worth writing about
at all. Or if

the fire in my veins and in-
between my legs would surpass the
time I don’t really have, if
the moments of truth
that I keep in my breast pocket
were all that true at all. I wondered

if love beat tirelessly when
the gentle beat of the world was gone, if
the seconds that turned into hours that turned into
days were really as
wasted
as I once thought. I wondered

if I’ll miss what it feels like
to rock a baby to sleep while I am
falling asleep in the arms of my own baby, if
the systematic sway of the numbers
and figures that carry our world
would carry me
to the world beyond this. I wondered

if this world is so great after all,
if beauty can breathe in its own precious life,
if I can outlive all of these moments
of wondering where to begin.

[David]

Originally Posted by daniellaaarisen

if love beat tirelessly when
the gentle beat of the world was gone

Beautiful, just beautiful.

[daniellaaarisen]

Originally Posted by David

Beautiful, just beautiful.

I'm glad I'm inspiring you to write some lovely poetry on my Facebook wall, David.



To everyone else: thank you. But seriously, you guys flatter me...

the frustrating thing about art is that I don't know if it's ever possible to be satisfied!

[David]

Originally Posted by daniellaaarisen

the frustrating thing about art is that I don't know if it's ever possible to be satisfied!

Beethoven was often dissatisfied, especially with his early compositions; but was also often very satisfied, as he was with his Missa Solemnis.

[equeen102289]

Originally Posted by daniellaaarisen

So I wrote this a few weeks ago and I don't really like it.... but I think its something a little different from me so whatever, I can post it.




Untitled

I broke my wrists and broke my spine and
the entire time that I lay in that bed
I wondered how I’d bend—

I wondered if I could melt the lines
off the clock, or the ones
on my face that I saw
in a familiar nightmare. I wondered

if I could still write with my tongue
if my mouth became dry and my
hands became numb. I wondered

if I ever had anything worth writing about
at all. Or if

the fire in my veins and in-
between my legs would surpass the
time I don’t really have, if
the moments of truth
that I keep in my breast pocket
were all that true at all. I wondered

if love beat tirelessly when
the gentle beat of the world was gone, if
the seconds that turned into hours that turned into
days were really as
wasted
as I once thought. I wondered

if I’ll miss what it feels like
to rock a baby to sleep while I am
falling asleep in the arms of my own baby, if
the systematic sway of the numbers
and figures that carry our world
would carry me
to the world beyond this. I wondered

if this world is so great after all,
if beauty can breathe in its own precious life,
if I can outlive all of these moments
of wondering where to begin.

I love this.

[Zombie]

^^^^

Seconded.

You've a gift, Dani. Don't stop writing, yeah?

[Sleepless-Child]

Untitled

I broke my wrists and broke my spine and
the entire time that I lay in that bed
I wondered how I’d bend—

I wondered if I could melt the lines
off the clock, or the ones
on my face that I saw
in a familiar nightmare. I wondered

if I could still write with my tongue
if my mouth became dry and my
hands became numb. I wondered

if I ever had anything worth writing about
at all. Or if

the fire in my veins and in-
between my legs would surpass the
time I don’t really have, if
the moments of truth
that I keep in my breast pocket
were all that true at all. I wondered

if love beat tirelessly when
the gentle beat of the world was gone, if
the seconds that turned into hours that turned into
days were really as
wasted
as I once thought. I wondered

if I’ll miss what it feels like
to rock a baby to sleep while I am
falling asleep in the arms of my own baby, if
the systematic sway of the numbers
and figures that carry our world
would carry me
to the world beyond this. I wondered

if this world is so great after all,
if beauty can breathe in its own precious life,
if I can outlive all of these moments
of wondering where to begin.

This is beautiful, I can't even believe you don't like it ! You really have a gift, but I think you already know that, right?
Makes me want to write. Thank you.

[jaycee]

Originally Posted by daniellaaarisen

So I wrote this a few weeks ago and I don't really like it.... but I think its something a little different from me so whatever, I can post it.




Untitled

I broke my wrists and broke my spine and
the entire time that I lay in that bed
I wondered how I’d bend—

I wondered if I could melt the lines
off the clock, or the ones
on my face that I saw
in a familiar nightmare. I wondered

if I could still write with my tongue
if my mouth became dry and my
hands became numb. I wondered

if I ever had anything worth writing about
at all. Or if

the fire in my veins and in-
between my legs would surpass the
time I don’t really have, if
the moments of truth
that I keep in my breast pocket
were all that true at all. I wondered

if love beat tirelessly when
the gentle beat of the world was gone, if
the seconds that turned into hours that turned into
days were really as
wasted
as I once thought. I wondered

if I’ll miss what it feels like
to rock a baby to sleep while I am
falling asleep in the arms of my own baby, if
the systematic sway of the numbers
and figures that carry our world
would carry me
to the world beyond this. I wondered

if this world is so great after all,
if beauty can breathe in its own precious life,
if I can outlive all of these moments
of wondering where to begin.

Well, this may not be your best work, but it's so far and away above anything most people will ever write in their entire lives that it doesn't really matter - yet another pleasurable read from The Ledge's most talented writer!
As a side, I posted Jim Morrison's "The WASP" a while back, which often garners very mixed reactions (unsurprisingly). Would you ever consider doing a poem as erratic as that?
(Oh, and I'm glad to have found a Poe fan on this thread! I'll get right onto those stories you suggested - and "The Raven", for that matter!)

[daniellaaarisen]

Originally Posted by jaycee

Well, this may not be your best work, but it's so far and away above anything most people will ever write in their entire lives that it doesn't really matter - yet another pleasurable read from The Ledge's most talented writer!
As a side, I posted Jim Morrison's "The WASP" a while back, which often garners very mixed reactions (unsurprisingly). Would you ever consider doing a poem as erratic as that?
(Oh, and I'm glad to have found a Poe fan on this thread! I'll get right onto those stories you suggested - and "The Raven", for that matter!)

Well thank you for such a huge compliment! I've said it before and I'll say it again... you guys flatter me.

I'm actually going to start doing some really experimental stuff within my writing. I'm starting to bore myself so I need to get creative!

[Meowi]

Originally Posted by daniellaaarisen

Well thank you for such a huge compliment! I've said it before and I'll say it again... you guys flatter me.

I'm actually going to start doing some really experimental stuff within my writing. I'm starting to bore myself so I need to get creative!

Doing the Lindsey? I presume
TUSK!