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Message
re: Does anyone else here write?
Posted on 2/22/15 at 11:55 am to Bard
Posted on 2/22/15 at 11:55 am to Bard
I write a fair amount of poetry, been trying to start a novel for a while. Working on an, at least somewhat, original magic system right now. Would y'all advise having everything laid out as far as basic plot, then having a goal for writing each chapter? Or just write and see where I end up?
Some of my poetry.
I have a feeling for things unknown
That would make me wish to leave hearth and home
I wish to be there to see the sight
Of the darkened moors on a wind-filled night
The misty mountains cold beckon my name
To sit at their feet by an open flame
Twixt and twain the mountains and marsh
Soaking in all this soft world considers harsh
To see the magic dancing of a hidden valley stream
To hear the hunting hawks piercing scream
A silent urge to hunt the thicketed boar
Where did I get this love of lore
I do not know why these things I may never see
I always feel beckon to me
I may never know what compels me so
But these things I must gaze upon before they lay me low
Your love my sweet, it eludes me still
I liken to sifting grain meant for the mill
One must work hard to gain sustenance of life
It takes many labors, toils, and strife
A culling of the fields
A burning of the husk
And many days working until dusk
One must sift stone and thistle
All other forms of gristle
And always be careful while sifting the grain
For this longest of toils is not without pain
Every prick of my finger it is worth to me
To earn one loaf of this bread, so sweet you see
Your love is my bread, your heart my grain
My flaws are my gristle, thistle, and stone
For when I sift my flaws I hope to obtain
That I wish for one day to be mine alone
Forgive my sweet, me of this rambling prose
I simply write as my hearts river flows
This river turns the mill
Which softens the grain
To hopefully allow a beauty, the world, to gain
Your love, my sweet, the world deserves to see
I simply hope you bestow it upon me
Some of my poetry.
I have a feeling for things unknown
That would make me wish to leave hearth and home
I wish to be there to see the sight
Of the darkened moors on a wind-filled night
The misty mountains cold beckon my name
To sit at their feet by an open flame
Twixt and twain the mountains and marsh
Soaking in all this soft world considers harsh
To see the magic dancing of a hidden valley stream
To hear the hunting hawks piercing scream
A silent urge to hunt the thicketed boar
Where did I get this love of lore
I do not know why these things I may never see
I always feel beckon to me
I may never know what compels me so
But these things I must gaze upon before they lay me low
Your love my sweet, it eludes me still
I liken to sifting grain meant for the mill
One must work hard to gain sustenance of life
It takes many labors, toils, and strife
A culling of the fields
A burning of the husk
And many days working until dusk
One must sift stone and thistle
All other forms of gristle
And always be careful while sifting the grain
For this longest of toils is not without pain
Every prick of my finger it is worth to me
To earn one loaf of this bread, so sweet you see
Your love is my bread, your heart my grain
My flaws are my gristle, thistle, and stone
For when I sift my flaws I hope to obtain
That I wish for one day to be mine alone
Forgive my sweet, me of this rambling prose
I simply write as my hearts river flows
This river turns the mill
Which softens the grain
To hopefully allow a beauty, the world, to gain
Your love, my sweet, the world deserves to see
I simply hope you bestow it upon me
Posted on 2/22/15 at 12:07 pm to VaBamaMan
i used to write poetry exclusively but gravitated more towards short stories/novels in college
Posted on 2/22/15 at 12:16 pm to VaBamaMan
I've never been able to get the hang of poetry and admire those that do it well. My creativity just doesn't seem to go down that path. :(
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