Thunderous
Full Member
They Have Pulled Down Deep Heaven on Their Heads
Posts: 210
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Post by Thunderous on Sept 13, 2007 21:53:14 GMT -5
It's much better, but I think that near the beginning you've sort of gone off the opposite end. The sentences are a little too short, it's like Period. Period. Period. Period. Your descriptiveness in the original was wonderful- it was just overdone. I like the other story you posted. It was depressing. And I love your sig by the way. Classic stuff. EDIT: P.S.- I posted a new story in my thread, but it seems that nobody noticed. D: *hint*
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skyrider
Junior Member
this impulse blinds the world from true sensations
Posts: 55
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Post by skyrider on Sept 21, 2007 20:45:26 GMT -5
I am falling, I am crashing, I’m crumbling to pieces on the floor. See my Infractions, They’re bubbling to blisters around my contour. My soul Is leaking, See it pool and seep under the door. The ground Is approaching, I have no time for an error, Or more emotions that I can pore, When all my muscles are this sore. That crash, That pain, And nothing else. These feelings were palpable, but never more.
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Thunderous
Full Member
They Have Pulled Down Deep Heaven on Their Heads
Posts: 210
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Post by Thunderous on Sept 25, 2007 17:34:42 GMT -5
Wow, poetry. =0 I love that you don't completely ignore rythm and meter-- a lot of inexperienced poets write for rhymes and nothing else. But meter is so much more important for good poetry.
And you know that nobody can ever read the phrase "never more" without thinking of you-know-who... *coughPOEcoughcough* ...was that intentional?
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skyrider
Junior Member
this impulse blinds the world from true sensations
Posts: 55
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Post by skyrider on Sept 25, 2007 19:29:05 GMT -5
sorry, I couldn't think of anything else that had the same effect
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skyrider
Junior Member
this impulse blinds the world from true sensations
Posts: 55
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Post by skyrider on Sept 25, 2007 19:50:51 GMT -5
Death had come for me.
His hand of bare bone opened and offered me two choices that had the same outcome as if I cid nothing at all: come willingly or flee and still receive the same fate And Death only grinned wider to show his tombstone teeth. My fate had been tied in a knot around my neck with my hands secured tightly behind my back and no way of escaping on my own. A deep rhythmic pounding in my chest grew louder. I don’t think I could have heard propellers over the racket. Panic greeted us and shook my sweaty hand before standing silently at my side. And suddenly the branches of the trees Curled ominously around the garden and obscured the sky with nails that scrapped against the heavens. The flowers wilted, drooping to stare at the Ground. I clung to hope like the bare branches clutched the wispy clouds, but like the Clouds, hope slipped out of my grasp. I’m afraid your time has come. Life isn’t fair; death isn’t either. His eyes looked blank and sturdy despite the Mysterious wavering glow. Beyond the clawing trees the sky became deeper than the ocean and clearer than the streak free glass that opened our house for the world to see. The roses were reminding me less of romance, more of blood. I sought the newfound courage waiting patiently in a room at the back of my mind, twiddling his thumbs. I called him in and looked death in the eye and begged him to do his worst. Death was an honorable being. I didn’t see those flashes of my life before my eyes; all I did was stand there and feel Relieved; no not relieved, nothing. No depression, no happiness, just calm. I don’t know how long we stood there, but I felt death encompassing me. I was swimming in death, drowning in it. My subconscious took over; a last stream of Air escaped my throat.
Death got what he had come for.
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skyrider
Junior Member
this impulse blinds the world from true sensations
Posts: 55
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Post by skyrider on Sept 27, 2007 18:27:09 GMT -5
You don’t care what anyone else thinks. It’s not about how you play the game; it’s about getting high off a victory. Why else do they keep points?
You knew better than to get too cocky, but this is your moment. You get ready as the opposing team holds the ball, the referee blows the whistle and you’re off. You dance around the court waiting for an opening inviting you to go for it. Your teammates are doing fine on there own, for now, so you wait for your chance.
You keep the other side on their toes with your jerky steps and late hesitation but your time is coming.
The white object hurtles back and forth and you only manage to keep it in play. It’s mine, you tell yourself before diving to the floor to once again save a mistake and before you can get back to your feet, your teammates have already scored your point. The next is mine, you tell yourself.
So there you are. Your side has the ball and a slight lead and then what happens? Her hand hits the ball and it floats over to the other side. Ooops, try again. The ball is rolled back and this time the referee has a chance to blow his whistle. There you go. Once again her hand smacks the ball and the crowd roars as your opposite sprawls out on the floor and her outstretched hand misses by inches. Yes. Another point is awarded to your side. Just in time to lose the next point, and the next, and the next, and maybe the next? No, it whizzes past your head and shanks off the back row’s arms.
Ok breathe; we can get back in this game. Your heart thunders and sweat dribbles down your forehead to sting your eyes. Your lips taste like salt and bruises begin to form around your sore muscles. It hurts, but you bare it. What else can you do?
The whistle sounds and the ball flies over. Three hits and it’s right there now, right in front of you calling for you to touch it. And you answer, you jump up and force it back to their side, but it’s not over yet.
Get ready, get ready…she’s going for the kill.
And then it dies. Right in front of your face it keels over and dies. You could have gotten to it, you could have, but you didn’t. It died, and you can’t do anything now except shake it off, but the dead weight latches on to your leg and like a teary child, won’t move and only grips harder the more you try to rid yourself of that mistake. Your teammates put a little effort into removing the thing, they tell you it’s fine and that you’ll get the next one. Just do your best. What the hell is your best?
Why do you ask so many questions? Just get to the ball so we can make a play. It’s no big deal.
Side out, your team on the bench cheers and it’s the same story. The ball is here, and then it’s there, now it’s just on top of the net, until it’s saved from inches above the floor. Unless…yes, it goes out, no wait, is it back in…no, it’s definitely out.
Alright, alright, let’s go, is all the advice your coach has.
Another point for your side. You rotate to the middle. Perfect. You check the score board and see that the other team needs one more point to win the game. Not perfect.
The best server on your team is up, but is it enough? The ball spins out of control through the zone and the other team barely gets a hand on it, however, it was enough for them. The ball soars high to the rafters and squeezes through the triangles to come down sharply on your side. Easy enough right? The ball is passed to where it needs to go and you call for it because your job is to smash their faces in. You take one step and another step and you are smiling because your moment is here. Focus. You coil your legs underneath you and spring straight up into the air to take the opportunity that is given. At the peek you draw in your left hand and swing your right with all your might.
So sweet isn’t it? The exhilarating rush of being in the spot light, of being and feeling the contact between you and the air and no boundaries…
Except…
You feel the adrenaline melting off your body as your fingertips brush the ball for only an instant. Your teammates all stop and stare in horror at the ball as it hangs in midair for what seems like forever. You think it just might go over, hey it could happen…it could…it might…is it…please...?
And then you land. And then it falls in the net, and you just stand there. The audience goes silent while you will yourself to believe that that didn't just happen. It did. The the referee hands the point to the other team while they jump up and down and hug one another.
Dead ball, dead game.
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skyrider
Junior Member
this impulse blinds the world from true sensations
Posts: 55
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Post by skyrider on Sept 27, 2007 18:30:48 GMT -5
huh? thingyy? I mean a word that's similar to confident
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Post by zemira on Sept 28, 2007 8:18:15 GMT -5
Heh, it's the censor the boards have. If you say a curse word, or anything bad, the board automatically changes it to whatever Maliris chose. ^_^
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skyrider
Junior Member
this impulse blinds the world from true sensations
Posts: 55
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Post by skyrider on Sept 28, 2007 14:53:00 GMT -5
hmmm, well then the strange thing is, it wasn't a curse word
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Post by zemira on Sept 28, 2007 15:09:15 GMT -5
Hmmm...Is it possible you spelled it wrong and it came out as a curse word?
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skyrider
Junior Member
this impulse blinds the world from true sensations
Posts: 55
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Post by skyrider on Oct 5, 2007 19:16:05 GMT -5
How…
Blur these lines to get the idea, Of what is feigned and what is real. Delicately finger those fragile marks, That curve and slice your skin in arcs. What is this fear? What is this grief? Why do you see? Why do you sleep? How can this be?
Around this bend you can see the glow, From behind a shape you already know. Find this form that’s not complete, And maybe then we can compete. What is that light? What is that change? Why am I me? Why are you, you? How can this be?
Of all those colors that permeate your being, You chose the route of not believing, Why can you be so deceiving, With all this meaning? What is a loss? What is great pain? Why are you sad? Why are you dead? How can this be?
Why…
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skyrider
Junior Member
this impulse blinds the world from true sensations
Posts: 55
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Post by skyrider on Oct 12, 2007 18:54:17 GMT -5
Down by the shore, Where you’ve heard this song before, I await forever more, Your return. I wait for you here, As the tide grows near, And desperately fear, Your return. Can you hear the earth singing and rejoicing its life, As my feet sink into the sand. Can you feel the sun rising and giving new life, As I trace the marks burned to my hand. Can you see the waves churning and the young minds learning, As I wait for you here on the land. Where the sky meets the sea, In my mind I see, Your eyes reflecting me, And your return. The breeze calms my mind, So I can’t see the sign, From the birds behind, And your return. I hope for your perilous journey to end, So we can meet here where I stand. I hope for the life threatening danger to end, So our lives can start to be planned. I hope and pray that you’ll come back one day, So there’s no more I’d have to withstand. Where are the words to explain? Where is the passion in my veins? Why do I feel so drained? What I want and what I need, Has collided with the desire to bleed, Because the world can’t seem to concede, And love from hate can’t be conceived.
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skyrider
Junior Member
this impulse blinds the world from true sensations
Posts: 55
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Post by skyrider on Oct 30, 2007 16:27:45 GMT -5
Picture this: you sit in a rusty old school bus that should have been replaced years ago along with its driver. The specks of white outside the frosted window float down from the indistinguishable sky that blends with the snow on the tree tops. Cars pass on the slippery road. The girl in the seat next to you is chatting and giggling with the boy directly in front of her. Your bag sits awkwardly on your lap and squishes your legs into the seat. All around faces smile and frown at their own petty problems.
Hear this: “So I told her to get away and you know what she said…”
“Ugh! You still don’t get it! Vampires have fangs and therefore are way more equipped to kill people…”
“No! Barbie wears this dress…”
“What are you going to wear to the dance on Friday? I was thinking about that cute little red dress that I bought last weekend but…”
Feel this: A slight chill gropes its way through the window to sting your face. The girl is practically jumping up and down on the seat and unknowingly rocks her bag to stab you in the side. The metal side of the bus is cold, but in contrast your feet are about to explode from heat because the bus and its poor design decided to blow all of it there.
Think this: gotta get outa here.
Do this: You rub your side and shut your mouth because there is nothing else you can do to make yourself more comfortable. Instead you stare out the window and hold your back-pack closer to your chest to try and add some more insulation, but it doesn’t help.
Now, imagine this: you’re the only one who saw the ice and that semi-truck.
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Post by lisajane on Oct 30, 2007 20:57:51 GMT -5
I like how you're written the last piece and it's quite depressing, but I don't quite understand the point?
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Thunderous
Full Member
They Have Pulled Down Deep Heaven on Their Heads
Posts: 210
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Post by Thunderous on Mar 21, 2008 17:14:33 GMT -5
I like it too. I think everyone on the bus was killed, and the point was the randomness of death?
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