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Literature Text
I rise against the frantic gusts of wind,
to defy the storm for defiance sake,
as though by will I can the storm rescind,
but I am but a man who dreams, awake.
Defiant still I turn my righteous fury,
towards a foe that I can surely beat,
but the tide's upon me in a hurry,
and for caution's sake, I again retreat.
Come at last to this, my final hour,
I make my stand so I might proven be,
that a man may conquer nature's power,
and standing tall, withstand a falling tree.
Though my cause was worthy, my flesh was not,
and henceforth I remain restrained by cot.
to defy the storm for defiance sake,
as though by will I can the storm rescind,
but I am but a man who dreams, awake.
Defiant still I turn my righteous fury,
towards a foe that I can surely beat,
but the tide's upon me in a hurry,
and for caution's sake, I again retreat.
Come at last to this, my final hour,
I make my stand so I might proven be,
that a man may conquer nature's power,
and standing tall, withstand a falling tree.
Though my cause was worthy, my flesh was not,
and henceforth I remain restrained by cot.
Literature
Hollow
No dreams, feelings or death,
No love, hate, or anything left.
I will remember the call of the grave
It always greets me at the end of the day.
I was but a mage, now a shell,
Hailing from Londor, destined for hell.
Walking the path until it ends
Losing my souls, making amends.
Then struck by the curse, calling for help
Staring at the growing darkness I felt.
Still I am clutching on to the last bit of hope
But the fire fades forevermore...
Feels like even time came to a halt
For I know what it is like to possess a hollow heart.
Inane philyra
Literature
-
i fade with
stilted shots, the audience
waits for me. choking. oh god
how could this happen
with my throat
twisted up
and my head bound tight
in ropes i'm not sure i want to
untie? snap my brittle
wrists. i'm losing again,
numbers scaling down to a
place i should not be.
a parasite is swallowing
my energy. tests are negative.
i breathe.
--
just as i drift
into
pale, fading sleep,
his fingernails
claw through
the
material of
my skull.
i don't know who he is but i remember
the wooden floor beneath me
the length of my hair
catching under my back
as i struggle
and
how it felt when he
left me on the floor,
limp
tear stre
Literature
The Maiden and the Beast
The moons silently peered in through the tiny window panes of the tavern’s dirty windows. The tavern was lit up with candles and filled with cheering every time another shot was downed by one of the two large men seated at a table in the middle of the room. All the furniture was moved to the walls as to allow a large crowd of onlookers to watch and cheer. The innkeeper brought another round of shots and the contest continued.
The captain sat at a corner table and regarded the competition from afar. One of his own boys already succumbed to the challenger and laid on the floor babbling nonsense. As he watched another of his men turn red,
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Prompt: "Descent into Madness"
You ever get writer's block? Me too. I set myself a goal to write one poem for each of the Poetry Screams prompts and, being myself, have been attempting to do at least one a day. Three days in, I hit a wall and could not for the life of me come up with one good idea. I half-wrote at least half a dozen poems without one iota of spark or flare and I swear it felt like I was pulling teeth. So what did I do? I decided to free write something else, just to stop trying to force it. And this came out, fully formed, without the slightest thought or planning. And it fits a prompt. So screw you writer's block.
The title is a nod to Don Quixote, as is the poem.
Submitted to the #Open-Mic-Poetry Sonnet Contest.
Submitted to #Live-Love-Write Gladiator Prompt.
The The Fourth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest had a list of 10 prompts and I challenged myself to write a poem for each one. The following were the result.
The Lonely Prince (Graveside Serenade)
Midnight Musings (In the Glow of Candlelit Eyes)
Grey is a beautiful color (Smile like a Scythe)
Of russet red apples (Autumn's Kiss)
Dreams are a gateway (Shapes in the Void)
For the lack of windmills (Descent into Madness)
Ghoulish Delight (Nightdance and Shadowplay)
Lost Innocence (Haunted Star)
Mark my Words (Debt of Bones)
Acceptance (The Dying Season)
Sonnet.
You ever get writer's block? Me too. I set myself a goal to write one poem for each of the Poetry Screams prompts and, being myself, have been attempting to do at least one a day. Three days in, I hit a wall and could not for the life of me come up with one good idea. I half-wrote at least half a dozen poems without one iota of spark or flare and I swear it felt like I was pulling teeth. So what did I do? I decided to free write something else, just to stop trying to force it. And this came out, fully formed, without the slightest thought or planning. And it fits a prompt. So screw you writer's block.
The title is a nod to Don Quixote, as is the poem.
Submitted to the #Open-Mic-Poetry Sonnet Contest.
Submitted to #Live-Love-Write Gladiator Prompt.
The The Fourth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest had a list of 10 prompts and I challenged myself to write a poem for each one. The following were the result.
The Lonely Prince (Graveside Serenade)
Midnight Musings (In the Glow of Candlelit Eyes)
Grey is a beautiful color (Smile like a Scythe)
Of russet red apples (Autumn's Kiss)
Dreams are a gateway (Shapes in the Void)
For the lack of windmills (Descent into Madness)
Ghoulish Delight (Nightdance and Shadowplay)
Lost Innocence (Haunted Star)
Mark my Words (Debt of Bones)
Acceptance (The Dying Season)
Sonnet.
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Comments2
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"but I am but a man who dreams" is a wonderful phrase. I really enjoyed the way you used repetition and internal rhymes, accentuating the standard end-rhyme scheme. I was a touch disappointed by the punchline (not noticing the "Humor" category before I began reading), if only because the first two stanzas set up so well. Reading the comments, I see what you were going for - and I do think you strike the desired tone. Well done all around.