Write Your Own Stories
(Nov. 12, 2017 7:34 PM)dt1000 Wrote:(Nov. 12, 2017 7:12 PM)Alexa C H Wrote: Here's a poem about two very well known characters -
Two robins sing a song
As they look down upon
Two boys standing
And sending their blades ripping.
First boy wears a baseball cap
The other wears a scarf in white
Both in their hands wrap
Two powerful blades tight.
As the beys claim the dish,
They smirk at each other...
The silver and the blue blades swish
And crash into the other.
After a long fight,
Seiryu wins, Suzaku loses the game.
Now use to brain in the right
And see if you can tell their name...
Tyson vs. Kai, correct?
Yea... You are right. :-)
(Nov. 13, 2017 2:00 PM)dt1000 Wrote:(Nov. 13, 2017 1:46 PM)MWF Wrote: i am confused. is the grip the size of a pencil? it would be impossible for it to be anything else. unless he has a knuckle grip.
He has a Carabiner grip.
the knuckle grip would allow for the feet launch because you can fit a foot in a knuckle grip.
Deleted post
Okay, here's another short poem, I wrote in a couple minutes. I guess I should once again issue a death and blood warning, but, once again, I don't know. Also, I would very much like some reviews (hopefully, those hate comments will roll in if I beg for them)! Here's the poem:
Tip toeing in the dark, he waits for someone to stalk, then the blood from their head, will be all over the bed,
We don't know who he is, every theory has been dismissed, but we do have a tattoo, either from him or you
He murders everyday, always people with small families, maybe he likes the screams of kids, it happens right after they lift the lid
We may never find him, but at least we'll always be reminded.
Tip toeing in the dark, he waits for someone to stalk, then the blood from their head, will be all over the bed,
We don't know who he is, every theory has been dismissed, but we do have a tattoo, either from him or you
He murders everyday, always people with small families, maybe he likes the screams of kids, it happens right after they lift the lid
We may never find him, but at least we'll always be reminded.
Hmm...I am about to complete my poem....I am on the mid way...
(Nov. 13, 2017 4:28 PM)Ayane_2355 Wrote: Okay, here's another short poem, I wrote in a couple minutes. I guess I should once again issue a death and blood warning, but, once again, I don't know. Also, I would very much like some reviews (hopefully, those hate comments will roll in if I beg for them)! Here's the poem:
Tip toeing in the dark, he waits for someone to stalk, then the blood from their head, will be all over the bed,
We don't know who he is, every theory has been dismissed, but we do have a tattoo, either from him or you
He murders everyday, always people with small families, maybe he likes the screams of kids, it happens right after they lift the lid
We may never find him, but at least we'll always be reminded.
Pretty dark. The plot of the poem is good.
Okay, one more poem out of my beyliterature... A pretty stupid one with aabbcc rhyming scheme -
Waking up early in the morning
In the sunlight, my face warming
The house - I'm sweeping
And then exercising.
From tree to tree, I'm leaping
I hear my gang, calling.
String launchers, all are holding
Now the blades, they are loading
After them, I'm following
One by one, we're positioning...
At each other we're glaring
Together we all are launching.
We all start shouting -
"Let it rip. I'm winning."
I smirk seeing my blade spinning
Power and speed, I start gaining
With vigour and might, I begin ordering -
"Puma of hell, INFLAME BLAZING"
The black cat appears, roaring
And, as with the other beys, it goes striking,
Metallic sonorous clashes, I keep hearing.
Very soon, what we're seeing -
Is only my blade rotating
And the other blades are lying
Shattered to pieces, as I walk home, smirking.
(Nov. 13, 2017 6:27 PM)Alexa C H Wrote:(Nov. 13, 2017 4:28 PM)Ayane_2355 Wrote: Okay, here's another short poem, I wrote in a couple minutes. I guess I should once again issue a death and blood warning, but, once again, I don't know. Also, I would very much like some reviews (hopefully, those hate comments will roll in if I beg for them)! Here's the poem:
Tip toeing in the dark, he waits for someone to stalk, then the blood from their head, will be all over the bed,
We don't know who he is, every theory has been dismissed, but we do have a tattoo, either from him or you
He murders everyday, always people with small families, maybe he likes the screams of kids, it happens right after they lift the lid
We may never find him, but at least we'll always be reminded.
Pretty dark. The plot of the poem is good.
Okay, one more poem out of my beyliterature... A pretty stupid one with aabbcc rhyming scheme -
Waking up early in the morning
In the sunlight, my face warming
The house - I'm sweeping
And then exercising.
From tree to tree, I'm leaping
I hear my gang, calling.
String launchers, all are holding
Now the blades, they are loading
After them, I'm following
One by one, we're positioning...
At each other we're glaring
Together we all are launching.
We all start shouting -
"Let it rip. I'm winning."
I smirk seeing my blade spinning
Power and speed, I start gaining
With vigour and might, I begin ordering -
"Puma of hell, INFLAME BLAZING"
The black cat appears, roaring
And, as with the other beys, it goes striking,
Metallic sonorous clashes, I keep hearing.
Very soon, what we're seeing -
Is only my blade rotating
And the other blades are lying
Shattered to pieces, as I walk home, smirking.
Thank you, for your kind words! I enjoyed your poem as well. And, I just can't seem to write a happy poem, hah.
No problem. I enjoy dark literature very much... 
(Nov. 13, 2017 7:07 PM)Alexa C H Wrote: No problem. I enjoy dark literature very much...
Okay, then here's another one:
It's a need, not a want, I didn't use to mind the taunt, or the cherry red that filled my head,
but now I wish I was dead, black is all I want to see, my son thinks horribly of me,
because I hated every reminder, of the person I wanted to be, his pale hair and skin, were just like him,
and his dark eyes, were all I saw of the sky, I remember slapping him silly, and him forgiving me out of pity,
but now he's locked up in a different city, every time I see him I offer him death, he always says no in his short breaths,
I look him up and down and see scars, I wonder how he would have liked his car, I hate this addiction and how it controls me,
but I don't really care because my sons bold enough to love me....
About whom is this pomy?
Please, don't call me worthless,
My whole life has been such a mess
"Kill yourself"
I tell myself
My father never doted on me
I'm the reason mom's dead, you see.
A poem from the POV of one of my BSB OC's
My whole life has been such a mess
"Kill yourself"
I tell myself
My father never doted on me
I'm the reason mom's dead, you see.
A poem from the POV of one of my BSB OC's
![[Image: poing-americain-leger-silver.jpg]](https://www.armurerie-loisir.fr/930-thickbox_default/poing-americain-leger-silver.jpg)
Here's another sucky poem written in a few minutes:
Drink, drink, drink.....It stings my throat, I'm once again throwing a coat, if red is a cure then why can't I notice,
she helps me a lot but I can't even focus, I feel so lost when I'm like this, but when I'm cured I feel dismissed,
now I'm scared injured and lost, but I should know already to look for red locks, she's violent yet caring,
And sensitive to staring, but I can't remember which "she" I'm talking to, I have a wife a friend and someone who's new,
I wish my past was a lie, but life never lets you decide, I want to say sorry, but sorry is foggy,
I sometimes wish I could talk to my mommy....
Drink, drink, drink.....It stings my throat, I'm once again throwing a coat, if red is a cure then why can't I notice,
she helps me a lot but I can't even focus, I feel so lost when I'm like this, but when I'm cured I feel dismissed,
now I'm scared injured and lost, but I should know already to look for red locks, she's violent yet caring,
And sensitive to staring, but I can't remember which "she" I'm talking to, I have a wife a friend and someone who's new,
I wish my past was a lie, but life never lets you decide, I want to say sorry, but sorry is foggy,
I sometimes wish I could talk to my mommy....
It's in french, so if anybody understand... If not, never mind!
Un voile, un drap, un linceul.
Une grimace, une larme, une âme seule.
Un cadet à la lourde valise
Dont la folie s'est éprise.
Elle maitrise. De toute ampleur a emprise
Son esprit, enseveli, étouffé
Par des échos ne cessant d'ébouriffer
La psychose d'un enfant en crise.
Il vit une romance avec sa démence
Celui qu'on perçoit monstre malgré sa jouvence.
Dans une insuffisante complaisance
Non dans une complaisante insuffisance.
Sa souffrance le devance et agence son aisance.
Sa vie est un isolement.
Tenu dans une solitude mais pas esseulé.
Sa vue oit aveuglément.
Un corps pur par un cortège de voix harcelé.
Blessé de la méprise d'autrui
S'isole et se réserve un moment à lui.
Derrière son écran il est dressé,
Et lit un poème qui lui est adressé
Toi qui lis, arrête ta schizophrénie.
Un voile, un drap, un linceul.
Une grimace, une larme, une âme seule.
Un cadet à la lourde valise
Dont la folie s'est éprise.
Elle maitrise. De toute ampleur a emprise
Son esprit, enseveli, étouffé
Par des échos ne cessant d'ébouriffer
La psychose d'un enfant en crise.
Il vit une romance avec sa démence
Celui qu'on perçoit monstre malgré sa jouvence.
Dans une insuffisante complaisance
Non dans une complaisante insuffisance.
Sa souffrance le devance et agence son aisance.
Sa vie est un isolement.
Tenu dans une solitude mais pas esseulé.
Sa vue oit aveuglément.
Un corps pur par un cortège de voix harcelé.
Blessé de la méprise d'autrui
S'isole et se réserve un moment à lui.
Derrière son écran il est dressé,
Et lit un poème qui lui est adressé
Toi qui lis, arrête ta schizophrénie.
(Nov. 13, 2017 10:49 PM)Bl4ck-Ou7 Wrote: It's in french, so if anybody understand... If not, never mind!
Un voile, un drap, un linceul.
Une grimace, une larme, une âme seule.
Un cadet à la lourde valise
Dont la folie s'est éprise.
Elle maitrise. De toute ampleur a emprise
Son esprit, enseveli, étouffé
Par des échos ne cessant d'ébouriffer
La psychose d'un enfant en crise.
Il vit une romance avec sa démence
Celui qu'on perçoit monstre malgré sa jouvence.
Dans une insuffisante complaisance
Non dans une complaisante insuffisance.
Sa souffrance le devance et agence son aisance.
Sa vie est un isolement.
Tenu dans une solitude mais pas esseulé.
Sa vue oit aveuglément.
Un corps pur par un cortège de voix harcelé.
Blessé de la méprise d'autrui
S'isole et se réserve un moment à lui.
Derrière son écran il est dressé,
Et lit un poème qui lui est adressé
Toi qui lis, arrête ta schizophrénie.
A veil, a sheet, a shroud.
A grimace, a tear, a soul alone.
A cadet with a heavy suitcase
Whose madness is in love.
She masters. Any size has a hold
His mind, buried, smothered
Through echoes never ceasing to ruffle
The psychosis of a child in crisis.
He lives a romance with his dementia
He who is perceived monster despite his youth.
In an insufficient complacency
Not in a complacent insufficiency.
His suffering precedes him and arranges his ease.
His life is an isolation.
Held in solitude but not lonely.
His sight blindly.
A pure body by a procession of harassed voice.
Injured by the mistake of others
Isolates and reserves a moment to him.
Behind his screen he is trained
And read a poem addressed to him
You who read, stop your schizophrenia.
That was google translate, is it close?
Another poem (hopefully I can get some reviews): I've seen so much, I even once was Dutch, but I hate the memories of other lives, and I hate how I dare to survive
His white hair was covered in colors, I remember chasing after my mothers, In some lives, I've died young,
In others I've sung, I've been everywhere and seen everything, getting attached caused a horrible sting,
For me a risk is a rumor, even the time I got a tumor, I've never died and not come back alive,
That's good for survival but terrible for denial, living hair by hair and eye by eye,
I wish I would stop coming back alive....
His white hair was covered in colors, I remember chasing after my mothers, In some lives, I've died young,
In others I've sung, I've been everywhere and seen everything, getting attached caused a horrible sting,
For me a risk is a rumor, even the time I got a tumor, I've never died and not come back alive,
That's good for survival but terrible for denial, living hair by hair and eye by eye,
I wish I would stop coming back alive....
(Nov. 13, 2017 10:52 PM)dt1000 Wrote:It's almost all right! But there are some mistakes in it ^^(Nov. 13, 2017 10:49 PM)Bl4ck-Ou7 Wrote: It's in french, so if anybody understand... If not, never mind!
Un voile, un drap, un linceul.
Une grimace, une larme, une âme seule.
Un cadet à la lourde valise
Dont la folie s'est éprise.
Elle maitrise. De toute ampleur a emprise
Son esprit, enseveli, étouffé
Par des échos ne cessant d'ébouriffer
La psychose d'un enfant en crise.
Il vit une romance avec sa démence
Celui qu'on perçoit monstre malgré sa jouvence.
Dans une insuffisante complaisance
Non dans une complaisante insuffisance.
Sa souffrance le devance et agence son aisance.
Sa vie est un isolement.
Tenu dans une solitude mais pas esseulé.
Sa vue oit aveuglément.
Un corps pur par un cortège de voix harcelé.
Blessé de la méprise d'autrui
S'isole et se réserve un moment à lui.
Derrière son écran il est dressé,
Et lit un poème qui lui est adressé
Toi qui lis, arrête ta schizophrénie.
A veil, a sheet, a shroud.
A grimace, a tear, a soul alone.
A cadet with a heavy suitcase
Whose madness is in love.
She masters. Any size has a hold
His mind, buried, smothered
Through echoes never ceasing to ruffle
The psychosis of a child in crisis.
He lives a romance with his dementia
He who is perceived monster despite his youth.
In an insufficient complacency
Not in a complacent insufficiency.
His suffering precedes him and arranges his ease.
His life is an isolation.
Held in solitude but not lonely.
His sight blindly.
A pure body by a procession of harassed voice.
Injured by the mistake of others
Isolates and reserves a moment to him.
Behind his screen he is trained
And read a poem addressed to him
You who read, stop your schizophrenia.
That was google translate, is it close?
(Nov. 13, 2017 10:59 PM)Bl4ck-Ou7 Wrote:(Nov. 13, 2017 10:52 PM)dt1000 Wrote: A veil, a sheet, a shroud.It's almost all right! But there are some mistakes in it ^^
A grimace, a tear, a soul alone.
A cadet with a heavy suitcase
Whose madness is in love.
She masters. Any size has a hold
His mind, buried, smothered
Through echoes never ceasing to ruffle
The psychosis of a child in crisis.
He lives a romance with his dementia
He who is perceived monster despite his youth.
In an insufficient complacency
Not in a complacent insufficiency.
His suffering precedes him and arranges his ease.
His life is an isolation.
Held in solitude but not lonely.
His sight blindly.
A pure body by a procession of harassed voice.
Injured by the mistake of others
Isolates and reserves a moment to him.
Behind his screen he is trained
And read a poem addressed to him
You who read, stop your schizophrenia.
That was google translate, is it close?
Can you fix it or at least make it more aesthetically pleasing?
Deleted post
((Deleted))
(Nov. 13, 2017 11:00 PM)dt1000 Wrote:I can correct the words but I can't make it "aesthetically pleasing" in english, I worked hard to use words we rarely use in french, i used a lot of stylistic divices, so it'll be a bit complicated ?(Nov. 13, 2017 10:59 PM)Bl4ck-Ou7 Wrote: It's almost all right! But there are some mistakes in it ^^
Can you fix it or at least make it more aesthetically pleasing?
(Nov. 14, 2017 2:01 AM)Bl4ck-Ou7 Wrote:(Nov. 13, 2017 11:00 PM)dt1000 Wrote: Can you fix it or at least make it more aesthetically pleasing?I can correct the words but I can't make it "aesthetically pleasing" in english, I worked hard to use words we rarely use in french, i used a lot of stylistic divices, so it'll be a bit complicated ?
Okay, thank you.