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Post by Garanor on Jun 12, 2005 21:25:32 GMT -5
*rubs head* o0o0www, hehe im gonna be trying my hand at a little fable. I always wanted to make short stories with a bit of meaning but such things escape me. One problem I always have is I get too many ideas for stories and I get bored of them rather quickly. I once worked with a friend in making a collection of fantasy stories but my end still hangs loose, yet to be completed. T_T Speaking of which if anybody is interested in say flexing their writing muscle for such a project just contact me and I can show you what we have so far, think sort of dark futuristic fantasy. Also the stories are all bound to one world so that they have a sort of familiarity.
Here is a little bit form mine.
Of Blood And The Moon
Garbage stretches to where the eye can see, over the hills and past the pale beyond, into the horizon. Broken and old treasures await those who seek the past, silently hidden below a dark yellow dawn which gives one the feeling of awakening from a fever, covered in sweat and the previous days lunch. In a pile of garbage, much like any other in the Sector 17 junkyard, loud shuffling of objects is heard. Junk is tossed here and there and as is done so a scruffy headed boy emerges from the garbage. Covered in grime and the dust of many wanderings, this boy seeks something in the confines of the heap with a feverishly insane twinkle in his eyes. A metallic tube, rusted beyond recognition goes flying in one direction, a dolls head covered in dying moss tossed the other way. The boy searches franticly for a few moments then stops as if coming to a realization, the twinkle leaves his eyes and he stands up to his full height atop the dirty mound. The shrill wind plays with the boy’s dark orange hair as he turns noticing a stranger observing him while passing on the junkyards road. The man wears a pale sand colored cloak around him that flaps in the wind to reveal a black sheath holding a silver short blade. The brown haired man bears a curious expression on his pale face, a face much like one would expect of the fair elven folk, but such a thing is not possible. The elves are a dead race, fallen to the hand of technology, and despite his appearance the man still lacks the ears to be fully qualified as an elf of ancient lore. The man stops and asks the boy “What seek you boy? In such a barren place.” The boy considers for a moment whether or not to answer the man, but loneliness strikes hard on one so young and he reluctantly answers “I seek a sword… my fathers sword”
*Edit* Cant get those indents in... T_T
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Post by Velata on Jun 12, 2005 23:40:53 GMT -5
... May I...?
To Corrusader: The Hellforge has been an idea that has been circulated since the Medieval times, a few hundred years before Shakespeare. Hell was always known as a source of torture, and one of the common themes was that the sinned would be skewered and roasted on a spit. The source of this perpetual fire is the Hell Forge.
As the years go by, and Hell becomes more and more personalised (thanks to Dante's Divine Comedy), the concept of the Hell Forge becomes one of the "Heart of Darkness", where the ruling powers of Hell reside. On the other hand, since the advent of Zoroaster's near-Eastern religion that was incorporated into Christianity in the late Medieval times, the idea that Hell was in an everlasting war with Heaven was born. And the Hell Forge became a real "forge", where the deamons and their ungodly weapons were, literally, forged.
The everlasting bonfire refers to the traditional interpretation of the Hell Forge.
To Garanor: After a quick look at the story, I'd say that there's a lot of promise there. However, it might be difficult to reconcile a futuristic dystopia with elements from the tratidional fantasy genre. That would take some great word-smithing skills... something that would refer you to Wayward's expertise.
What I could do for you, however, is a quick edit and a quick read to tell you how I think. If you are interested, contact me. You can find my information in the staff section.
Best wishes,
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Post by Advent Childhe on Jun 12, 2005 23:51:46 GMT -5
Greetings:
It is late.
Garanor: Nice beginning. Nice diction and good generation of atmosphere. Good plot hook at the end of the beginning.
There is a problem: its only a beginning. I can not tell from where the story is going but that is no fault of yours.
Yours, Wayward,
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Post by Garanor on Jun 14, 2005 0:00:28 GMT -5
Well as always opinions and criticism is highly welcome, so if anybody wishes to read further into what I have then do not hesitate in asking. ^_^
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Post by Velata on Jun 14, 2005 20:58:39 GMT -5
... May I...?
The lab where I work at is a little hectic right now... After the storm blows over, I would definately ask for a sample from your collection.
Until then,
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Post by Tim on Jun 22, 2005 21:37:07 GMT -5
Hey,
I find that reading and analysing poetry is quite a feat because it requires you to ponder on what was written and then analyse it. You've got to read the poem at least 3 times to get an interpretation. This is especially the case for verse. It makes it fun because you can come up with very subconscious interpretations -possibly some that weren't even intended by the writer! As such I agree with Wayne's, Corrusader's and Velata's interpretations of each other's work as well as that of Garanor's.
Here is a brief critique of the other works:
Garanor: To be honest, I found this a bit contrived. If there is an emotion you're trying to communicate, you've got to refine it further and sometimes it might mean dropping some words or adding some other words here and there. But don't give up!!! Why do beat poets get titles like Heavyweight Champions (Jazz musicians do too)? It's because poetry needs exercise to be developed. Something one would write off the bat would probably go through two or more revisions before it is something to share. Try reading it aloud and by hearing how it sounds you can see where it needs work. Carry a little notebook around and jot down thoughts or words or phrases. You'll never know when they come in handy. But always practise... and don't stop writing -whether dizzy or clear-headed. I stopped writing for a while, and my creative writing degenerated. Don't let it happen to you.
Wayne: Your Untitled reminds me of something to be read at Yule. I don't mean that in a bad way. I also don't get some of the metaphors, and I think that the ancient Greeks played lyres. Though I can picture their sound and harp could work. The jumping from Holly Tree to ancient Greece is different. Not bad, but different. Reading the poem more than once makes me gain a deeper appreciation for it. The following couplet is mysterious: Remember us in our nameless race Where dark futures flout our skies, If you can enlighten me on that it would be great. To me, "nameless race" brings up ancient civilizations a la HP Lovecraft, but it could also mean a physical race -perhaps the Wild Hunt? Shots in the dark....
Corrusader: I like. It's properly structured, and fitting as an intro to your comic series. I like the section of diction at the end of the poem. You've spared me the agony of looking up words that don't exist in the dictionary (though I know that paladin does exist). But seriously, the poem is great. Almost like an incantation. A fitting way to begin a sketchbook!!! I really hope you share your comics with us sometime.
Velata: Structurally your poem is also really good -your allusions (if I'm using the word right) remind me of ancient greco-roman mythology. I take "Joyless Stream" as one of those streams that went to the Underworld -not the Styx -but I think there was another. I was also reminded about Hecate, or something like that -but when I read Wayne's vampire point it seems obvious now. This is something that can't be read quickly and critiqued right off the bat. But it's good, and "anti sonnet" is a good way to describe it.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Anyways, in keeping with the tradition here, I have submitted one of my poems. I wrote it a long time ago, and didn't stick to any verse structure. Please note that when this was typed the |_and ~ all meant something, because it was structured. But the formatting of the page doesn't allow it to show -so bear that in mind, svp.
Lemme know what you think. _____________________________________________ Addiction
In a random moment you pull me out long, hard and stiff. You light my fire, burning with desire for me. You caress me and you kiss me You ingest my poisons and my medicines through your red lips. You drag & you suck and for those brief moments, I burn with pleasure.
Yet, after your interlude With calmness and death is over Yes, after you are satisfied with me -you throw me down | | to the ground ~__ and step on me |_ or what’s left of me
Me: a burnt out stump of what I once was You wish I never existed The one I love is my demise (for now) But usually, after a while you come back to me for more -when you need another cigarette! ____________________________________________
A.
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Post by Corrusader on Jun 24, 2005 9:57:56 GMT -5
Hey Tim Taw, it's nice that you joined us, It's clever that the long hard thing of pleasure is a cigarette, and I do like the comparison between the two. However, one thing I do protest loudly is how you seem to chop a sentence into two lines too meet the meter. "You drag & you suck and for those brief moments,..." "Yet, after your interlude With calmness and death is over..." Whenever I see poems like that I feels uneasy because it breaks the train of thought as the reader expect a closure at the end of each line, a resting spot to start anew. In my mind, when a line fails to provide an ending to the idea expressed by the sentence, it breaks the poem. To exaggerate: I'm typing now a paragraph, put I cut my words in little chunks, so it has became a poem! In highschool English, I really had a poem in a textbook that if you connect all it's lines together, its a paragraph. That annoys me to no ends. All that aside, I must say this is an enjoyable poem, nonetheless. Also, I must thank you for your praise of my poem
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Post by Tim on Jun 24, 2005 17:10:21 GMT -5
Haha, Glad to have pushed some buttons on form. That was deliberate because of the way it's read. And the thoughts that were written came out as disjointed. But good point.
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Post by Advent Childhe on Jun 26, 2005 9:21:22 GMT -5
Greetings:
Hmm... Late again.
Tim Taw: Time permits today, and I will allow myself a few more words.
I enjoy any piece of literature that carries with it different meanings. If one read the words in this way, or looked at them with a different tint, one can see different things from it. One of the greatest example is "Kubla Kahn" from Sam Coleridge.
This is not to say that the author had nothing to do with it. In fact the author has absolutely everything to do with it. Its the choice of words, the framing of the imagery. For example, the way that you described the first part of your poem.... Well... there seemed to be some "adult" underpinnings to it (grin). And somewhere in the back of the sentences, a turbulent relationship seemed to play and replay itself out.
I'd have to say that the special "punctuation imagery" is nice too. The dashes and the ~ signs seemed like someone throwing down a cigarette and stamping it out with his/her foot.
Hahahahahaha....
Yours, Wayward,
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