Well, if you know me, then you know that this would be my third thread for my writings. If you don't know me, as in your a new(er) user, than this is my third thread for my writings. This is a fairly akward situation, so I feel the need to explain:
I am making this final thread (and yes, final), because I realised something during my Hiatus. When I 'quit' AG, I was fairly discusted with my works. I absolutely loathed them. And after a while, I realized something: that it didn't matter. Who cares what I thought about them. What matters is what OTHERs think about them. I wouldn't be able to grow as a writer if my angst over my own works led people to assume that they WERE bad.
While some of them genuinely reeked, there were others that were genuinely good. And as I looked back over my first writings, I realized another thing too: that I had gotten better. That my works had gone from a slipshod, unbalanced affair to a generarrly more organized shipshod affair.
So I am not making this thread to be unique in having *3* threads about my work, or for vanity, or anything like that. I am making it so that you, the reader, will look at my works, and will hopefully tell me how to get better.
Mirrors. They're very odd objects. They reflect everything in their view. Mirrors can be distorted. A simply walk through a Funny House at any local Carnival will yeild to this. Some make you tall, others thin, and still more turn you upside down. All distort your image. While these mirrors are merely for laughs, there is one of a more serious manner.
We all have mirrors. Not the ones in our bathrooms or halls, but ones we look into at the end of the day. And like real mirros, they can be distorted, broken, and bent. We look into them with a bias, and see only what we want to see. Many people are led astray by what they or others see. People only see what they want to see, or what others tell them to see.
So the goal we all should have is to look into our personal mirrors, and see who we really are. Many of us, myself included, are afraid of what we see. Through writing these reflections, I attempt to see who I really am, without any of the bends or curves that are otherwise supplied.
How terrible! We lose ourselves! Trapped in the middle As my foes tear me apart.
Oh, where were you? When all was lost? No one to turn to As both ends crashed around me.
Hold me now, 'cause it just feels so broken! Emptiness collapses all around us. Somehow we should try to get out of this... Try to get out of this...
Sweet Symphony! Please, play me home. Notes as companions On this dark road of fortune.
Excelsior!* As I fall down... Dust flies around me And covers all my feeling.
Hold me now, 'cause my body's so broken! Emptiness lies right behind my dull eyes. Somehow you should try to avoid my fate... Try to avoid my fate... __________ *Yes, this is the third time I've used 'Excelsior' in a poem. If you havent figured it out by now, its Latin for 'Ever Higher'. Also the motto of the state of New York.
Wrote this at 3AM last night, as I couldn't sleep. Just kinda came to me, really. Its a fairly straightfoward poem, though, so I shouldn't have to explain really. I think its one of the better poems I've written.
Sometimes you give me goosebumps kiddo. I'd like to declare myself as your biggest fan.
Your poem is beautiful, i like how you convey your feelings throughout, how you tell a story yet leave the reader begging for more. As you stated it's straight forward but the reader still wonders - Such as "What fate?"
Where do I go, When I'm alone? Strip off this hate, From twix my bones.
Twisted inside, From behind my eyes. Against the flow, That I despise.
-Here We Go
'Here We Go' is unique in several aspects. As a peice, its the first lyrics I'd ever written. At four syllabuls a line, I still feel its a rather clumsy thing, much like a newborne taking its first steps. But it is special in one aspect. It was the first peice I had ever written, ever, that I felt was truly personal. Previously, my poems only described a setting (Haiku), or told a short story (The Goodship, Woadship). This was the first peice of art I had ever created that I truly wrote from within.
Twisted inside, From behind my eyes.
You could say that this poem was really my first Reflection. I wrote how I felt, and it came naturally to me. At the time, I wasn't very thrilled with the person I was, and I was determined to correct that. While I'd like to say I've been 'cured', I still feel myself slipping into the same old routines, the same patterns, the same habbits.
When I said I was frightened by what I saw in my mirror, I truly meant it. I am horrified by what I've become. I'm mortified that my facade should slip. And I'm ashamed at what I've let myself become. Life is a disease; We think we have it conquered, but then a fresh new range of symptoms crops up. And eventually, we all subcumb.
What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?
-Matthew 16:26
Success. Everyone wants it, and everyone tries for it at some point in their life. Whether we want that new car, a bigger house, or the latest video game, success has its way of showing us off to the rest of the world. Our success, or lack of it, is like some rebirthed primal trophy head. Its great to look at, but not to touch.
Success is one of the four horses that pulls my chariot. I always strive to be successful. Like anybody, I've had times where I've succeded and times when I have not. My problem is not whether I succede or not, but what happens after.
I always feel guilty after I win. I tell myself, 'You worked hard! You should be happy! Proud!'. But I always find myself guessing, doubting myself. Why did I win? Why did they lose? What did I do to deserve this? Sure, I worked hard, buy why? What drives me to this?
And I doubt myself further. 'I will work harder' is always first to my lips, but then I question it. If I worked hard this time, and lost, why should next time be any different?
The smallest cracks can bring down the largest dam, if theres enough of them. And I've got a full resovoir.
I live in an eternal winter. A normally lush valley lies dormant, covered in snow. A river, once flowing, is frozen solid. With every passing day, I always attempt to cross that river. Somedays, I make it pretty far. Other times, not so much. Never do I make it across; I always slip.
It seems that no amount of determination or will power can keep my from straying; I always return to the well-beaten path. I always end up entering by the wide gate.
The luggage of this world is weighing me down, I so long to cast it away.
Gosh, your really good at this and you have a passion for it which helps you to create better masterpieces and exceed peoples' expectations faster. You also put a lot of feeling to it and that increases my liking in your work.
I've found that my better works are based on how I feel/have felt, so I figured I should keep doing that. My poetry is ussualy based (now atleast) on my past experiences or metaphores for whats going on in my life. Reflections is literally based on what I feel at the time, and is more like a self-psychotherapy session.
Thanks for reading, and I hope you continue checking in.
Rising up to face me on my path, Blatant opposition to me. How can I ever climb you? How can I ever win? Who can be my stregnth To help me through? Acceptance; I fall, Dead. __________ Wrote this for the Nonet Contest, and the theme was 'Mountains'.
I took it at a metaphorical sense, rather than a literal one, as I always seem to do. The Mountains are the difficulties we face in life, and how too often we fail when we say we'll succede.
