Discussion Creative Writing Megathread

[lilichka]

Terror. Ask me to describe the feeling of terror, and I can only reply 'ecstatic'. Fervour. Justice. Spirit. Words that give meaning to terror, the order of the day.

Terror. Terror. The fear inflicted upon man by another man. I do not fear terror, on the contrary, I feel drawn towards it. Whether it be white, red, great, or reigning, terror inspires within me an urge to be drowned by the roaring tides of ardor.

Terror. Terror. Terror. Terrorism, terrorist, terrorizer. What do these words mean? Why do they decry it? Rally against it? How pitiful these men be, to not see the unnerving beauty of terror!

Terror. Terror. Terror. Terror. I walked up the stage and met my date for tonight; a tall woman with a sharp stare. I laid my head down on her lap, to the cheering of the crowd below us. I closed my eyes, and calmly awaited her loving touch on my nape. I was her greatest love, yet her latest victim.

Terror. Terror. Terror. Terror. Terror. Off with our heads!

 

[hybridtheory]

Sharing my writing

//

A girl's voice cries out, but it remains trapped within her own confines, unheard by the world outside. It unleashes a torrent of feelings within her secluded haven.

With each new day, she faces the same old wounds and the intrusive thoughts that shake her sense of calm.

She continues to escape, feeling adrift and unable to find anything reliable.

She guards herself against the inescapable truth, fearing the journey toward forgiveness, when deep down, all she truly desires is the solace of understanding that her burdens were never hers to carry alone.

A girl prioritizes her peace for such a long time that now, any sound beyond a mere whisper can make her feel jarring. She has established a refuge deep within herself.

She takes steps forward, yet also retraces her path—not to dwell in the past, but to integrate that part of herself into the now. The version of herself that was limited by a past that sought to disrupt her future now travels alongside her.

Her past self walks beside her present self, not to hinder her progress, but to observe the beautiful transformation into the person she was destined to become.

Although she is uncertain about her future identity, she will learn to embrace gratitude during her journey, no matter how fiercely the hurt tries to lead her astray.

—kels

 

[Emerita]

I felt the Graveyard of Myself,
And grief, engraved my Name.
The grounds left behind—
A barren of my Brain—

My body was breathless
But a Beating, still abide.
And my Soul, buried beneath—
The bones, supine where they lied.

Nerves root in the Underground;
Marked crosses never meet.
Moss decays upon my lips—
The living Haunted— obliged, I did not speak.

My mind, akin to a closed casket—
Though, I skinned myself for Hope;
Only the tomb touched me undressed.
It was the Earth— and I alone.

(A poem I wrote two years after my friend died, may he rest in peace )

 

[WaistedPotential]

to be edited....
Once a mountain, weathered by rain.
Reduced to the sand, along the bay.
Then melted into something beautiful.

Your poem is so beautiful. It reminds me of one of my own I wrote a few years ago. I've graffitied it in a few random places before, so maybe it inspired someone. it goes like this.

thoughts fall like sheets of rain

each drop taking its pebble

no one hears the quiet erosion

or sees the hill was once a mountain.

 

[Life_and_Death]

Your poem is so beautiful

thank you
your comment came at just the right time too. just last night i was feeling like i cant write and was unsure if i ever could

thoughts fall like sheets of rain

each drop taking its pebble

no one hears the quiet erosion

or sees the hill was once a mountain.

i love your poem too. its amazing how so few words can sometimes say so much

 

[Oublivien]

A fine line between cutting out all emotions,
And letting them all run free
Rampant and uncontrolled
Both sides representing a hell,
One, bleak cold and lifeless
The other set aflame, screams pain and disorder

 

[intintint]

schizo

"Who am I but I am me?"
Poor me said, quite valiantly.
Yes, you are, but are you me?
You, i'm not, I disagree.
"Why can't you be? Don't you want to?
Look at yourself, what have done you?"
I hate what I see, so torn.
You, me, should've been unborn

You might be me, but I will not
Embrace what's left, what's gone to rot.
I see the mess, the flawed design,
A life undone, a tangled mind.
"How can you be so cruel, so cold?
Look at me, I am your soul
Can we not mend, can we not heal?
Let's be two, can't we just feel?"








stop
Screams all night, a shriek, a squeal
My eyes won't shut, my heart won't heal

My brain yells "the house is on fire",
A little quiet is my only desire
But my brain keeps yelling, " house on fire!"
Oh, please be quiet, no need for dire

"But what if it is? What if it was?
What if they hate? What if it does?
What if you do? What if you did?
But you won't, though would you bid?

They hate you, and they hate you
And you hate you, so they hate you
And you do wrong, and go so blue
So they hate you, can't you go through? "

Another night, the noise is there
My eyes wide open, they only stare
Red on my bed is all i need
A price for quiet, quite small indeed

 

[notgonnamakeit]

feeling so stuck
nowhere to run
run out of luck
hand me my gun

'things will get better'
no they will not
so i'll write my letter
then let off my shot

 

[SuicidalCurryBoy]

Short story about my oneitis.

Metempsychosis/Transmigration

There was no ‘patient 0’ when the dead started being reborn. They popped up like a plague across the planet, with no rhyme or reason, independent of natural or unnatural boundaries. A Saracen who s…

mikhailmarlowe.wordpress.com

 

[BloomingAzaleas]

Down the snowy path
Blows gentle whispers of death
Guiding the lost souls

 

[56842]

echo of me:

I can feel my clock spinning
out of control, glitching
ephemeral time traveler
cursed by the moon
by inordinance, watch
strikes, come now, the flux
one evening a culprit
sent to bring a cataclysm
to me

come, tell me your name
I dread the waiting
expecting a surety I see
in the reflection
foggy rippling and foreign
a landscape yet to
be painted into earth's history
but those bones I know
I see I know I feel
the ache that was carved
on me

Is it the world that changed
or do I see from a different plane?
High on the world's spine
wonders only bloom at night
From this peak,
see me see free see
the veins of reality crack
in the wake of the shake
Atop a fault set in wait to
rend my world apart I sit awaiting,
a part of the change
tectonic turbulence, vibrating violence
amongst, amidst, amok,
in me

From the shelf in the sky above life
where Chronos's keeps time
I see the river of change
in this mirror of mine,
bubbling over into rapid
headed for the cliff
at the end of nothing
absence of me, there
I see nothing
but still the ache lays waiting
and I know it, as the echo
of me

 

[FinalDestiny]

Sorry, I'm the kind of loser who need to take other people's words to express myself. I hope Lawliet doesn't mind his moving poetry being my muse tonight.

Who said that,
I wasn't
Rotten from the start.
Time passes, roses bloom,
And my thoughts are,
Kinda dark.
Friends speak, let em see,
Draw the curtains,
Take a stand.
Who said that,
I wasn't rotten from the start.

I used to try to find myself,
But honestly,
That's a fantasy.
Eggs yolk, mind's broke,
Time to cue the peak insanity.
Got my heart cut, stripped,
By my friends and family.
Things change, people die,
Yeah, I let em see.
Who said that,
I wasn't rotten from the start.

i guess i will go first i write a lot of sad poetry.

"WILT"
our friendship, wilting
but who says it ever bloomed
rotten from the start

"HEARTLESS"
cut my heart into little strips,
hang them on my wall
show my friends and family
that i've got one, after all

and the one in my signature:

"LIVING DEAD"
most people die
when they're only teenagers,
but aren't even buried
'til they're past seventy-five

 

[SpelingNotsee666]

You Love to Give

​

Chameleon in red lipstick.
Chameleon with ball mask on.
Everyone to everything.
Every shade in faded color.
Door won't close.
Too many skeletons.
Superimposed strength.
Underneath gelatin.
Being everything is how you live.
Blinds are drawn, you love to give.
The back of your hand.
The small skeleton's resting places.
Tiny mouths, your lips.
Veins, fire and gin.
Kinky brutality loves its audience.
Never questioned yourself until you were revealed.
In the dark, you loved to steal.
Six faces for six places.
Hard things. Sad faces.
It is how you live.
You love to give.
Pain to the ribs.
A twist to the wrist.
Small feet.
Lots of traffic.
Consciences hurt the most when dying.
Someday, we all will be forced to remember.
Our feeling slipping away.
Our fingertips touching decay.
All our lives we were givers.
All our lives we were different.
Nobody knew it.
But we knew ourselves.
It was how we lived.
We loved to give.
Our screaming voices.
Bleeding ears.
Shriveled egos.
Many tears.
We were big until the roosters made us small.
We took it all until the darkness finally made us crawl.
We loved to give.

 

[BloomingAzaleas]

O' scared bird with wings of light
When will you let yourself take flight?
When you can shine instead you flee
Hiding away from the world to see

You build yourself a nest made of concrete walls
So that no one could come and hear your calls
And now you cry, trapped in your own cage
Letting yourself be overcome with age

Now every part of you is yearning to be free
To shine once more and leave this tree
O' helpless bird, your cage is where you stand
But when will you see the key was always in your hand?

 

[galaxid]

that's so cool! post it :D

prose excerpt from something i wrote the other night:

"The sounding off of drunken cormogenies all thumping bottles of Tonk, singing Gaulish songs about battered Imperialists and their putschist brethren, all while the stench and sopor of night crept into their hearts and minds and slowly, assuredly, they would be careening private lies to children on chalk-covered driveways and under moth-eaten lamps, or returning to childhood corridors, running in view of doting mothers sick to the endless clambering of athletic feet up the stairs, to the aging camphor of occupants back from days out on the bridge, spitting at dinghies, snapping furtive passersby through bleeding gums."

I love this!!!!

 

[hhtroc]

I wrote a couple poems, english is not my native language so I guess the rhymes could be better but whatever, I can share I guess, If not here then where lol:


A different time ago, into a world that was so bright/
the sapling broke out of the ground and for the first time saw the light/
and the sunlight shone down on it and kept it safe and warm, every rain felt like refreshment, like an adventure every storm/
And as the tree grew taller, and the first leaves started to show, it started noticing the smells of mud and the coldness of the snow/
and the sunshine became blinding and the storm so suffocating, all the termites that formed tunnels and the birds that made their home/
And the tree it kept on growing, despite whatever pain may be, for it just always thought that's what it's like to be a tree/
And so the seasons came and went and the tree stood tall and strong, and everyone who came across it never noticed something wrong/
until one night the branches fell, with an ear deafening roar/
the tree collapsed back to the ground for it was rotten to the core.

 

[BloomingAzaleas]

A poem written in Chinese Qijue

Characters:

小鸟高窝寂寞唂
飞奔泰树母飞出
当心险蛇桑枝等
跳跃天空最后呼

Pinyin:
Xiǎo niǎo gāo wō jì mò gū
Fēi bēn tài shù mǔ fēi chū
Dāng xīn xiǎn shé sāng zhī děng
Tiào yuè tiān kōng zuì hòu hū

English conversion (adjusted for meter):

Small bird tall nest soft lone cries
Dash quick safe tree mom bird flies
Watch out snake threat tree branch waits
Big leap blue sky one last sigh

 

[Michi_Violeta]

Two poems I wrote originally in Spanish, translated in a rush into English, would like to hear your thoughts on them.

Free ≠ Libre
​

Te quieren
en pedacitos y en
empaque al vacío,
en stock, envío incluido,
en un anaquel, en una vitrina,
a domicilio para mayor comodidad:
en treinta minutos (o menos).

Te desean
fácil, sin compromiso.
Una probadita de cortesía,
un pague dos y lleve tres,
un si te he visto no recuerdo.
Quieren chorizo, quieren chuleta,
y quieren pagar con tarjeta.

¿Te aman?
Como a un cigarrillo de treinta centímetros
o una pantalla de sesenta y nueve pulgadas.

Te promocionan,
te consumen,
te desangran.
Dicen que eres libre
cuando la etiqueta en
tu corazón dice gratis.

Free = Worthless​

They care about you
in chunks and
vacuum-packed,
in stock, shipping included,
on a shelf, on display,
delivery available for your comfort:
thirty minutes (or less).

They want you
easy, no commitment.
A trial sample,
take three and pay two;
easy come, easy go.
They want breasts, chops,
and want to pay with card.

They love you?
Like a thirty centimeters cigarette
or a sixty-nine inch screen.

They advertise you,
consume you,
bleed you dry.
They say you're free
when the sticker on your
heart says worthless.

Besitos de Zopiclona​

Cada mañana seguro pensamos cosas diferentes,
tú yo.
Caminas egoísta por llanuras más verdes
mientras yo maldigo abrir otra vez los ojos.

Tus besos de noche los recibe ahora un imbécil.
Mis labios ya no sienten otros que me reconozcan
y den sentido a tanto frío, dolor, tanto esfuerzo
ahora solo rozan un polvillo blanco comprimido.

Ya no duermes a mi lado, espalda con espalda,
haciendo que la noche se sienta hermosa
y la vida segura.

Duermo cuando le da la gana a un sedante.
Duermo con una libra de veneno bajo el colchón
donde antes descansábamos enamorados

Besitos de esperanza guardan mis recuerdos,
besitos de zopiclona para esta noche.

Zopiclone Kisses​

We surely think very different things every morning,
you and I.
You walk selfish on greener grass,
I curse having again to open my eyes.

Your kisses at night are now for an idiot.
My lips no longer feel others that recognize me
and make sense of so much cold, pain, effort,
they only brush compressed white powder.

You no longer sleep by my side, back to back,
making nights feel beautiful
and life feel safe.

I sleep whenever a sedative says so
I sleep with a pound of poison under the mattress
on which we used to rest together in love.

Hopeful kisses in my memories,
Zopiclone kisses for me tonight.