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Post by Advent Childhe on Jun 26, 2005 9:29:49 GMT -5
Greetings:
Dear memebers of CP and all the visitors that has an itch for the written word, I welcome you to this unofficial Writers' corner.
I must say that this idea isn't original, and that the trend that Garanor, Velata, Corrusader, Tim Taw, and, perhaps in his own way, HM has started is what I am picking up now. It is hoped that with this title, more people can join in on the fun.
Please do not hesitate to post your things on this thread. As they say, "the more the merrier."
Yours, Wayward,
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Post by Advent Childhe on Jun 26, 2005 9:39:15 GMT -5
Greetings:
Perhapes I will take the first stab and post something on this thread. Its a bit long.
A Simple Love Song
I distilled an ocean of moments living And condensed years to a few drops of memory I lied upon the beach beneath starry lights And with care and precision, picked at the sands of time
I fumbled my hands to find a moment still Then cradled the idea with hoops of steel I kept it wrapped beneath my coat; No one should see it yet. I kept it with me through the silent nights Fondled it on a beach beneath starry lights And I pondered what it was.
The fumes trail from the few drops of memory And take me back to the sights and sounds Of your foot print on the grains of sand Of a hearty laugh, a fine cursive hand, And urgency reflected in your eyes. Your eyes glow and sparkle and dare me to offend - I dare not answer - So I smile and laugh and cry and pretend.
The men swayed to and fro Dizzy from ale and vertigo.
I have known the urgency in your eyes, I have pondered beneath the starry lights The urgency pains, it digs at my sides - Still, I dare not answer. And I smile and laugh and I grow numb I’lll play the Tower, and you’ll play dumb. ' Slowly ' you say as you smile and banter, 'Slowly, you ll succumb. ' Dare I contend? Dare I answer? I ll loosen my coat to breath easier. Calculations done under the starry lights Depict scenes of fire, an endless fight; Some creature dire after a bird in flight. But I will carefully relate the endless stories Dowse you with a few drops of memory, In the oceans of moments to understand To retrace the steps in the grains of sand, To hear the laugh, to see the cursive hand - And at the end to wonder Did you understand?
And the men swayed to and fro, Feeling of ale and vertigo.
We walk blindly towards a yawning precipice Little steps of solid ground put the mind at ease, But we walk on still in pains of urgency. The wind nips at my worn down hems They howl to ripen the smell of fear and dread And I was afraid. So I will contend I will answer I ll play a humorous trick, a strategic ploy Act as a man of skill and employ And be forward, serious, but, a little coy.
As the men sway to and fro Reeling from ale and vertigo.
I will remove the coat, and unhoop the steel I will relate the memories still I will tell the stories again and again A few overtures, and a little pain; A look of distain I can never explain
The parched mouth reminds me of how I am thirsty; The oceans of memories dried in the useless refrains And the raised eyebrow wonders what is there left to gain
I don t think there are goals left to ascertain.
I ve hit the Tower, and you are already numb There. I answered. And I succumbed.
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Post by Corrusader on Jun 27, 2005 22:33:48 GMT -5
Greetings Wayward Wayne,
Truely, I can not make a story of this one, as the timeline of the story seemed to loop into itself, creating a paradoxal unreality. At first the protagnist makes a chain of steel around his waist, then he remembers back to his lady with a cursive hand. However, somehow the lady knows about the chain, and implores the protagnist about it, so slowly the protagnist tells the lady in the memory about the steel he just made.
Aside from the surealitism, the words convey a feeling to me. It speaks of an urgent message that needs to be relayed, but relaying that message will cause much pain. The protagnist is stuck with the burden to relay the message, and he delays it, and stalls for time for he knows that after he completes his task, he will lose something he treasure. Maybe it's because I don't understand a lot of the allusion and imagery in the poem, but I don't feel a lot of affection expressed in the poem. Instead, I feel a sense of continued sadness (from the message dilemma). Also the poem remained very mystical and allusive (from the imagery and time warping). Perhaps the poem is equally mentally demanding as the thing the protagnist has to explain to his lady. Which when taken to that light, fits surprisingly well: And at the end to wonder, /Did you understand?
I really liked the parts with men and ale and vertigo. It really pins the rhythem down. I also liked how the stanza was changed slightly every time it was repeated, it gave repeatition and a sense of progressing story.
Everyone sees a different story when they read a poem, and I highly doubt that what I saw is anything you have in mind. But that is all poem writing is about, enjoying what others make of your poem, laugh, and be mused.
To continue on the sort-of-story with Tarajan and Corruption, here's another poem. To put a general context, our main character has been disgraced and banished to hell (or a similar place) where he sides with Corruption, but his heart is still with the light.
Shadow Mask
For seven months I sought the light, Climbed the tree to towering height, A decaying hand to reach the sun, Down my arm my dark blood run, So I hope my wounds would heal, In the sight of the white one's zeal.
But clouds of terror hid the sky, Before my eyes my dream goes by, When the tree from under me burned, A foolish slave his destiny learned, And again I to darkness bind, And again I a shadow mask find.
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Post by Velata on Jun 29, 2005 23:30:35 GMT -5
... May I...? Gentlemen, you will have to forgive me. Velata has been abandoned by the Muse of the Written Word a long time ago, and therefore will not be able to build upon the stellar collection of poetry that has graced this little part of the forum. What I may attempt, however, is to look at what's presented and speak towards them, if any would listen. To Wayward, then: A secret that has been hidden so well is not easy to relate again, therefore, even with the urgency in the listener's eyes, it is perhaps easier to get lost in the sound of men and the vertigo of ale. Evasion works wonders, after all. This is a piece of lyrical poem, and I'd wager it could be sung the moment music is written for it. Pleasentries like this is hard to come by these days (have you come across any good lyrics of late? : , and that has made all the difference here. This is a pleasent offering, indeed. However, "Playing the tower" and "playing dumb" are imageries that do not usually go together, and when they are presented one beside another, they cause confusion. I can only assume that by "playing dumb", the listener wishes to receive information without active input. However, "playing the tower" is a strange thing, indeed. If by saying "playing the tower" the narrator decided to take on the role of "the Tower" (which has a quasi-religious origin, among other things), it would be strange for him to say that he's "hit the tower" towards the end. If he is "playing" the card called "The Tower" (refering to the Major Arcana card, "The Tower" or "La Maison Dieu" in a Tarot deck), it is possible for him to "hit the tower", as the tower is a symbol of destruction. The only caveat to this theory is the fact that Tarot cards are not "played", but should be "read" instead. "Playing the tower" therefore,has little meaning. Hein, but what do I know? Didn't I say that the Muse of Written Word has already abandoned me? To Corrusader: The unnatural plight of Tarajan is one that I can sympathise. One who has been doomed to Corruption and Darkness and yet still dream of light is a tragic figure, indeed. Many a successful tragic hero shares Tarajan's fate. They remain a staple in stories that wishes to find the goodness in every man. I know that Corrusader's unbridled imagination has little care for allusions and references, however, I cannot help myself to bring forward this comment on his "tree." When the tree was mentioned, I cannot but think to the Tree of Fate in Nordic legends, the Yggdrasil. This "World Tree" was nurished by the three "Norns", dispensers of fate. It was therefore an interesting image to see the man, climbing onto the Tree of Knowledge itself, only to find that the fate that has been pre-ordained for him was one of doom. Very clever, that. A "shadow mask" is also an intereting play on words. Tarajan dreamt of light, after all. Whatever he does when he is a member of the shadow would be contrived and forced. Therefore, only a cruel mask that he wears. Two quick questions, then: 1. Why "Seven months"? Is there a specific reason why such a number is used for the journey? 2. Have we met this "white one" before? It would seem as if this "White one" is a legendary hero of some kind, or was it simply an allusion to the sun?
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Post by Advent Childhe on Jun 30, 2005 21:00:43 GMT -5
Greetings:
I am late in replying to Corrusader. I delayed because I had wanted to keep with tradition.
Corrusader: Once again, I applaud your efforts. Not many people I know use poetry as a medium to express themselves. You are rare.
This is another poem that was meant to be read as part of a story. Hence, as the poem is read alone, the reader is left with wondering abit. The allusions within could not be identified as within your fiction or as a part of the world at large. In particular "Seven Months", and the "tree". The poem, as a stand alone narrative piece offers no reason as to why the protagonist is in his/her current sticky situation. But I guess the context offered takes care of this point.
Usage of the tree... once again, could be something from the story, or just a prop of height. I liked Velata's take on it. However, how it had caught fire.... that is left to guess. The diction is good, but more could be done to add to the atmosphere of the situation.
As you had said, rhyming is a gift rarely used. I applaud you again. I liked the "Dark Blood" line and the "Dreams go by" line. Especially the Dreams go by line. It has good rhythm to it. The "Clouds of terror." is a good imagery. Decaying had to reach the sun is another great imagery. These imagery bits really strikes home the amount of suffering and the protagonist's yearning to "regain his former seat" (Milton). Finally, interesting use of language syntax in the last two lines.
Overall, it is a good piece of narrative. It did seem like a soliloquy from a fantasy novel though... though I 've not the words to describe this.... mmm... I need to work on this.
Here is something that I whipped up while I was making a buffer in lab:
Laboratory Impromptu
The temp is high and the jig is set We'll be wild types now, let the retorts stand. The melody cross links our hands to hands And joy tumbles our heads end over end.
The rhythm is sound and methodical But this is no time to be logical Lets absorb the ambiance, feel the glow And whisper when the luminescence's low
Lonely men who acted with strict controls Now diffuse with the entire floor. Silent ladies proper; with tied up hair Now doff their coats and smile with flair.
lets go then, charge down with the gradient And tell them no abstracts of our sentiments. In the swirling dances that ensues, Dissolve the spaces between me and you.
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Post by Corrusader on Jul 1, 2005 0:03:43 GMT -5
Greetings,
Thanks for the kind words for the poem. I'm glad you guys liked it, as it is one of my all time favourate poems.
Usually the writer writes a little of himself in the story, however in this poem, the writer came before the story. Before I become Corrusader, I was Shadowmasked, portraying a person, who can not survive the society attempted to hide beneth a mask.
When the poem was written, me and my friends all knew my alias, and the meaning behind it. Therefore no context is given in the poem itself. In Tarajan's case, context is provided elsewhere, so I just recycled that.
The seven monthes refers to actual world time. During that time, my alias briefly changed to light searcher, then to Corrusader. However, the reader doesn't need to know that as it has no context within Tarajan's story.
White one refers to the sun, it is the hopes that under sunlight, the corruption surrounding Tarajan and within him would melt away. His dark past can be brought to light and be forgiven after some time instead of hidden for eternity.
I wish I have some glamourious explaination for the tree, some great story to tell about it. However, because the reason is so unworthy I will just leave the readers in bliss and steal Velata's explaination for it. Tarajan climbed the tree of knowledge to obtain light, but the sun was covered by clouds, and the tree burnt. (possibly curtesy of the Nightmare King.)
My favourate lines are the dark blood couplet and the final couplet. I thought them a stroke of ingenious inspiration ;P In fact, I'll put that on my MSN name right now.
Wayward Wayne, I'll write about your poem later, because my brain is on strike at 1am right now, it only works to retrieve knowledge it already has and refuses to come up with something new.
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Post by Advent Childhe on Jul 3, 2005 19:10:24 GMT -5
Greetings:
Are we not all masked in someways? Wether you mask be made of shadows or of human flesh, they are masks either way (Grin). We all have to find some way to represent ourselves.
However, we all have to find some ways to express what is beneath our mask.
Speaking of which, where are the others? Garanor? Tim Taw? HM? I'm begginning to sound a bit like Barry here. Where are you guys?
Yours, Wayward,
PS: Don't worry about "tradition" guys, all can join the discussion. If you have stuff you wish to share, bring it then. If not, join the conversation anyway. We all need other things than buffers during the summer time (GRIN).
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Post by Garanor on Jul 4, 2005 0:29:42 GMT -5
Mwahaha im still here and alive, greets. ^_^
I've been a bit busy seeing its the summer and all, therefore it was difficult to find time for browsing through sites I usually grace with my presence (joke) *har har* >_<. This writers corner is a brilliant idea though I must say, although I have nought to post upon it at the moment. Mayhaps in the near future I will have something complete, till then fare well and best of luck to all. ^_^
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Post by Corrusader on Jul 7, 2005 1:35:04 GMT -5
To me, Labortory Imprumpto is an interesting piece that compares the spaces between people and those of chemicals. When different chemicals together, it is as tho walls between people dissolve into each other and friendship form or love take place.
I think this comparison is hard to write about, maybe that is why it's not so clear to see in the poem (I came to this conclusion that that's what the poem is about on the third read-through.) Right now, the poem speaks of the chemicals, then it speaks of people dancing, but it doesn't speak of the connection comparing the two. Therefore when the poem is read at first, I saw chemists abandoning their experiments and danced on the lab floor, while the experiments proceeded to do themselves. A rather weird story if you ask me.
In the piece, some effort is done to make sentences rhyme. A good thing as always, I think the world needs more rhyming.
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Post by Advent Childhe on Jul 10, 2005 9:05:27 GMT -5
Greetings:
A friend of mine (outside of the forum) has just reminded me about narrative and lyrical poetry that I had forgotten. He reminded me about its limits, and showed me, by example how to break through these limits.
Though I do not usually speak about the allusions made in the pieces that I post up, I think i have to in this one. For many people not of the Life Sciences ilk, these allusions may be hard to understand. I first concieved of Laboratory Impromptu because I saw the life of the lab and it was boring (grin). And I wondered wouldn't it be nice if we could rid ourselves of the strict protocals, and have a fling and a dance on the lab floor?
The people in the lab are descibed with allusions to laboratory techniques or otherwise using lab lingo. However, this piece describes the lab workers shaking off their usual confines and controls and have a fling and a dance. I guess it describes us too, in a way. We may be controlled, we may be passive, but when the light is dim, the music is right, and a willing hand joins with yours to add to the swirling dances that ensues, all the taboos and other restrictions are lost.
Its cute in a way. In a way, its also wishful thinking (grin).
Yours, Wayward,
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Post by Velata on Jul 10, 2005 22:38:41 GMT -5
... May I...? The next time I will have the need to make a buffer solution, or new agarose gel plates, I'll remember Laboratory Improptu. Wayward is right in saying that this is wishful thinking, and I would definately agree to it. However, it could also be seen as a rather playful way to describe how a mixture is made in a laboratory. For that, this piece takes personification to a ... ahem... scientific level. And for that, thanks! It was an entertaining and interesting read.
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Post by Advent Childhe on Jul 19, 2005 22:51:40 GMT -5
Greetings:
Hmmm... no one posts here anymore... the writers have escaped from this corner... I feel lonely.
Hopefully, things will be better come the school year.
Yours, Wayward,
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Post by Advent Childhe on Aug 2, 2005 21:09:34 GMT -5
Greetings:
So... really.
No one is posting here. What happened to reciprocation? Alas... I'll calm myself.
I might have something else up my sleeves that I can put on here.
Yours, Wayward,
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Post by Corrusader on Sept 8, 2005 13:49:31 GMT -5
I've got another poem made, one which speaks of an unrealized promise. I strayed from the battles between corruption and just, and encountered something closer linked to reality.
Broken Promise
A broken promise is hard to mend, And harder yet is a broken heart. When chaotic hatred and attraction blend, A twisted love poem starts.
Broken tears are hard to heal, And harder yet is a broken smile. When doubt creeps up devotion's heel, Faith fails its demonic trial.
A broken poem is hard to read, And harder yet are broken thoughts. Heart shaped carcass fiendish deed, And everything else is for naught.
A broken promise is hard to mend, Broken until eternity's end.
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Post by Advent Childhe on Sept 10, 2005 22:13:17 GMT -5
Greetings:
I know this may sound repetitive on my part for anyone that has been following the thread, but I will laud Corrusader's efforts yet again. Good job, man.
As a truly biased man, I have to admit one thing - this piece is my favourite piece from the many that Corrusader has posted here. I will explain why. First, a few points of discussion.
The form is free (does not follow any of the classic forms I know) which makes it unique. There is a rhythm to this piece that gives it a lyrical bent. The piece follows a similar train of though throughout and points out several rather though provoking things. The diction here is concise, and has improved much over the other pieces.
Oh, fine. I've no other neutral things to say.
What I really really liked about this poem: (warning, severe biased comments below)
Free-form: I have to say that most of my own poetic stuff follows a free form. It has parallelisms and rhythems and such but it does not follow any of the classic forms strictly. Remnants of the classic forms can be seen in the free from though. Such as the case here. The free-form that Corrusader followed is very similar to the forms that I would have used. Therefore, I say "bravo!" Mind, free-form is not everyone's ideal though.
Parallelism: There is a good touch here. By following the form through out all the quatrains, Corrusader brought a straight parallel comparison quite unlike anything that he has brought forth so far. This allows for greater depth of meaning in less amount of words. The parallelism did not stop at the form, but reached beyond into the idea portrayed. By having the form dictate that the second line of each quatrain must contradict the first line (or show an exception thereof) the parallelism brings out the message and the intent of the poet nicely and artistically. This is an example of using different aspects of language to express oneself.
Heroic couplet: Corrusader also broke the form and ended the thought-provoking piece with a heroic couplet. The classics may condemn him for breaking with form, the modernists may condemn him for using form at all. I say "Booyah to heroic couplets and the remnants of lyrical poetry!"
Ok... for the not so biased comments:
Diction is still a bit...Perhapes it is a preference of word use. For greater parallelism, the ambiance that each of the nouns/verbs create must match as well. the use of the word "naught" though flows well with rhythm and rhyme, seemed out of place. Sure, other words may not be of the common vernacular, but "naught" has not been in common use for decades.
Line 11 offers nice imagery, but may be too vague. Once again, meaning and ambiance of the words must not be sacrificed to satisfy form and rhyme.
Perhaps there were too many ideas in such a short piece. The three events in the three quatrains seemed to be distantly related. There lingers this feeling of...words cannot quite describe it. I will attempt on a later date. Otherwise, I must say again that Corrusader did a great job with parallelism, especially with the last couplet, where the broken promise was mentioned again, but now with reinforced meaning. Overall greatly done, Corrusader!
Biasedly yours, Wayward,
PS: "biasedly" isn't even a word!
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