Feb 27, 2010
RP
Well, since I seem to be making no progress by myself, I decided to make an RP out of it. At the very least this'll make me rethink magic and create some details to setting. I'll probably make the RP cross with my main character, so I'll be getting plot advancement as well.
Feb 2, 2010
A villanelle
The world without end
Life without living
Death isn't the end
Who knows what to send
Receiving isn't giving
The world without end
Receiver indecent
Poem without writing
Death isn't the end
A life worth a cent
Rising costs of living
The world without end
Who is there to descent
Giving up living
Death isn't the end
Poet's way is to pretend
Dying is forgiving
The world without end
Death isn't the end.
Life without living
Death isn't the end
Who knows what to send
Receiving isn't giving
The world without end
Receiver indecent
Poem without writing
Death isn't the end
A life worth a cent
Rising costs of living
The world without end
Who is there to descent
Giving up living
Death isn't the end
Poet's way is to pretend
Dying is forgiving
The world without end
Death isn't the end.
poem #4
A place and a day
neither too far away.
I waited, I was scared.
I had failed to be feared.
The words in my head.
They are dead.
Beneath my feet
things with wings.
The air above my shoulders
has its own holders.
Wings on my back
something they lack
and they are laid flat.
My heart and my soul
don't hold on their own.
And their owl
does something foul.
The rains from the skies
have their own eyes.
Goddesses puppets
have limited uses.
My ribs are skattered
my body lies broken.
My wings are shattered
my soul in wrong folder
neither too far away.
I waited, I was scared.
I had failed to be feared.
The words in my head.
They are dead.
Beneath my feet
things with wings.
The air above my shoulders
has its own holders.
Wings on my back
something they lack
and they are laid flat.
My heart and my soul
don't hold on their own.
And their owl
does something foul.
The rains from the skies
have their own eyes.
Goddesses puppets
have limited uses.
My ribs are skattered
my body lies broken.
My wings are shattered
my soul in wrong folder
Poem #3
Note: Most of these don't actually have names. Also, I'm way too lazy and tired to invent any at this time of night.
In a dream
I loved you
I hated you
I felt true
Now
when I see you
I know the truth
Hate is an illusion
love is a lie:
I feel nothing
Note: This time I actually considered rhyming, which...didn't work out completely.
In a dream
I loved you
I hated you
I felt true
Now
when I see you
I know the truth
Hate is an illusion
love is a lie:
I feel nothing
Note: This time I actually considered rhyming, which...didn't work out completely.
Some serious angst
Since I don't seem to be writing any other content, I decided to put all my poems here to distract you from the fact.
Where the Heaven ends
stands a man
knowing he could be there
knowing he should be there
but he couldn't make himself believe
wouldn't make himself believe
to a god who demands belief
craves for faith
claims to be good
torturing unbelievers
the man knows
he can step in whenever he wants
but never will
And the Heaven ends...
Where the Heaven ends
stands a man
knowing he could be there
knowing he should be there
but he couldn't make himself believe
wouldn't make himself believe
to a god who demands belief
craves for faith
claims to be good
torturing unbelievers
the man knows
he can step in whenever he wants
but never will
And the Heaven ends...
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