Hey all. This is my first post in the art forum. Which says a lot.
I write poems, mostly love poems, but I also write rants on different topics. I like to write creative writings, but you probably ownt find those here. For now, I'll post a work-in-progress I am writing for my girlfriend. Comments, please.

The beauty unsurpassed,
Of starlit glade and glen,
The cheery smile that flashes,
As fleeting as the wren.

Your light footfalls
As you softly advance
The gay laughter calls
Me wishing for just one chance.

I look at you and see
All the glory of life
What I hoped would be
Now alive without strife

The long strands of hair
So beautiful in the light
I long to touch, if I dare
Your beauty on a cold night

I look upon you,
And,
Contained in my breast,
My heart quivers,
Then stops.
I love you.

This is a short story I wrote. I personally dislike it. It is extremely short, and basically just sets up a world. Any tips on how I could improve would be appreciated.

Alexander shuffled along the dark alleyway, keeping to the middle of the path lest shadows obscure his form. The guards at the other end of the passage aimed their rifles at him, making sure he made no false moves.
Alexander could only dimly remember what it had been like, just two months earlier. He had been walking through Central Park, enjoying the light breeze and the fresh scent of the trees. He stopped to eat an apple next to one of the larger oaks, and looked up to the sky. After a little while, he saw small shapes in the sky. Curious, Alexander squinted, trying to identify the objects. They looked like very small and far away birds. Then, a shape fell from the sky. The bombing of New York had begun.
After the hell of the first few days, Alexander began to be used to the idea of being under attack. Every day he would see the propaganda posters lining the streets, the loudspeakers blaring messages like “We can hold the Red Tide!” If anything, Alexander felt that he was in a dream world. How could any of this be real? How could someone attack America?
Then, they landed.
Boat after boat of Soviet troops landed in New York harbor, with nothing standing in their way. Absolutely nothing. No troops, no tanks, not even a police force. Unopposed, the Russians immediately set up management offices and detention areas. People were pushed through the quos, documented, and sent on. Anyone with a military record was immediately drafted as a conscript. Luckily, Alexander had managed to hide from that part of the inspection.
Just seeing the Soviet flag draped over every building, in every doorway, and on everyone’s clothes disgusted Alexander. The Russians were even assembling engineers to replace the Statue of Liberty’s book and torch with a hammer and sickle. Finally, Alexander couldn’t take it any more. He gathered up any weapon he could find and went underground, helping the resistance fighters. And now, after all that hard work, he was caught, helpless, and would be executed.

C&C RA2
I love bombing of NY! Makes me all happy inside(no-I"m not a terrorist!)

The poem is very nice, it's sweet. I'm sure she'll like it!
One thing, though, that I would have made different.
This is how I would've made it:

but of course it's your poem ;) do what you think is best.


The story is interesting, but does it end there? If you have time and will, I'm sure you could write something about what happens after he was cought and before he's executed (unless he manages to escape :D which I hope, becuase I kinda like Alexander LOL )


Well, you should definitly post some more here :ok:

Worthles ally's scum - there is NO way he'll resist mind control technology!

You Were You


At a glance,
Delicate, fragile.
But in your stance,
Strong, virile.

Against society you fight
But in reality you battle a reflection,
A battle futile, trite.
Yet you stand strong, with direction

The direction to clash;
The direction to yearn;
The direction to spurn;
The direction to hate.

In your quest to be unique
You abandoned hope for a crown.
Most turn the other cheek,
But in their hearts, pity is found.

In your rebellion
You break, burn
Steal, destroy
But in your heart,
You cry

You strive to be different,
But, lo, all along,
You were different.
You were you, where you belong.



Comments?

But, lo, all along --> I don't get that line
Otherwise it's pretty good...

"But, lo, all along"



The "lo" refers to "Lo and behold". It likely originates from the word "Loke" in Middle English. (Go google! :ok: )

haha nice..poem yobor perfect 100%

hmm I didn't get more lines than simply that Lo one.

but for what I understand and think of it is a very nice poem!
:ok:

Hmmm, missed this thread at first...
A pity, they're really quite good :ok:

The way I used "Lo (and behold)" was just as "But, Look"
Poetry can be a pain with the language difference.

Wow, this is nice stuff Yobor!

Looks like you found yourself another brain-child hehe...

My own poetry


And today as I look into your eyes.
I regret that I was circumcized.

:ok: , i like very much your first poem here, i think i will tell to a girl, thanks... :D

Here's an extremely depressing poem. I also have a story that I'll put in my next update.

“The Innocence of a Child”

Walking home on a dark night
From the sweatshops of the city.
The innocent child.
The casual stranger.

He stops her in the last alley.
Closer to home than ever before.
The innocent child.
The familiar face.

“Would you like some candy, darling?”
He grabs her hand just as always.
The innocent child.
The loving father.

Without emotion she stumbles to the place
Where he takes from her the prized possession.
The innocence of a child.
The betrayal of the protector.

I wrote it in five minutes, to don't expect to be awed. I have no title for this.

The sun sets. Like a whisper, the shadows flit through the streets and alleys. A tussle with a hobo, a midnight rendezvous beautiful in its monstrosity.
The creature’s head and face glistened with fresh blood, the elongated skull protruding into the air. Spikes gleamed in the moonlight, massive claws retracted, and a mouth of fangs closed.
The thumps of the body could be heard not at all as the creature dragged the corpse. Soon, he would have new materials for his construction. The haven came into view, an old run-down mansion on the outside, a catacomb of pulsating flesh, blood, bone, and sinew on the inside.
The creature’s nose perked up. Wait! He had been followed. Quickly, he summoned up all the strength he could muster, and vanished. The hobo’s leg, from where it had been suspended in the air by the Tzimizce’s hand, fell to the pavement.
Silence, broken only by the quiet *pit pat* of blood dripping to the pavement.
Then, a small coterie of the Kindred crept into view, equipped with assault rifles and phosphorous rounds. Their leader, a Gangrel, sheathed his claws and approached the deceased bum. Hesitantly, a hand reached out to touch the lifeless form…
The 97’ Honda Civic flew through the air at a miraculous speed, inducing Final Death upon three of the five kindred. Their ashes dispersed into the wind, soon joined by those of their two impaled brethren.
The Tzimizce continued on his way home. Opening the door, he lay the hobo next to his other kills of this night. Walking calmly to his bedroom, he took a relaxing blood bad, lay in his coffin, and went to sleep.

:omg: this is some deep stuff dude, and not a bit too lucid. Just great :D keep on :ok:

I like very much keep this work as good as now.. :cheers:

Hmm a poem about pedophiles, now that's something new...

Oh my, emotional problems! :eeeeeh: Better attend the shrink! :blink:
Nah :bleh:

Looks nice, I guess :ok:

I submitted that one about the pedophile to the school magazine. Heh, it didn't get in. I have a different poem already on the magazine, which I'll put up when the magazine comes out. I don't have a copy :-)

A world without beauty
My mind was barren
Devoid of comforts
An abyss of nothingness

My glazed eyes shifted
Across the room lazily
Suddenly,
Beauty filled them

Beauty of the gods,
The beauty of an angel
Of a marvelous flower
Of a sleek cat

Eyes like pools of deepest sheen
Sparkling in the sunlight,
Soft, round lips
Slightly parted, screaming at Lizz

I had no realized
That the people of Peru,
Could spawn such beauty
So I figure, it was a fluke.

Happy Valentines day

I see your face
In my empty mind
Your sad features
On a face so kind

What could trouble one such as you?
Surely not yourself, or your toils
For in themselves, they are divine
So beautiful as to defy description

But described they must be
To share in their glory
The rest of the world
Shining under such magnificence

Be not sad or troubled
For in thyself
Lies everything good
Everything pure

Everything wanted in the world
Everything sought after
By the multitudes of many
Acquired by none but yourself.

Undying beauty
Undying grace
Unearthly presence
What makes my heart race

Be not troubled
But know that in you
I have found peace
And love.

Ooh, I like your poems.
The one bout the Innocence o' deh child is coo, not dah topic but dah way it speaks man.

Check it.
I made a poem for you, :P

Yobor so fine
Hope he'll be mine
If don't comply
I will pick out his eyes
Then he'll be mine
Once I break out his spine


Like?

LOL that was funny pigggy...yobor i'm so upset i can't understand your poems(i can translate them but it's not the same)..maybe you can write one in romanian :P

Ne’r hath such beauty crossed the world before
Its magnificence a boon in world cold
A thing above the words of man or more
Heard only in the tales of ancient old
Thine eyes do sparkle like the water deep
A pool of light so soft as not to wake
A love that’s more did often inside creep
My heart did you so casually take
An Angel of such beauty unsurpassed
Doth lie outside the reach of mortal man
Yet still I love you with a love to last
As only man can love the sweet woman
My love can only last as long as life
But you will last as long as love can live

Have your returned to give us your grace?
Or did some muse's light fall on your face,
And inspire the prose, which I must say I dig,
Tho it stands in stark contrast to what's in your sig,
Then you post on a lark
And turn back to lurk?

Heh heh heh... nice one. I might stay a while, or maybe join this whole dissidents thing that was a buzz a while ago. *shrug* One thing is for sure; even if I don't post them here, I will always write poems.

Hay that un-named long one up there is vampire the masquerade inspired. I like it.