Hello there, I am DV and this is my writing: i am hoping that ill get to start my sci fi story (which will have better grammar ) and probably post some random stuff.
but first here is a poem about velociraptors: Did you see those velociraptors? killing humans in by numbers in Jurrasic Park? Sometimes they went ahead and got into someone's shack politley came up to him and tear his skin apart with their two huge claws that never go sore and with their tricky knowledge of how to open doors though that is only a little story of science fiction very well writen down by the writer Micheal Crichton in fact velociraptors are dumb feathery and small though they hunt in big packs like teenagers at a mall five of them could go ahead and hunt a t-rex killing and hunting for them is like a reflex "what would happen if I'd get one for a pet?" You might ask I'll have to say that with such a pet you'll have no luck that's because it'll kill you and lil sister and, as scientists say, it will destroy the ecosystem for them there's no right nor wrong only kill and hunt "well" you say "that animal is one stupid little grunt!" well that is my song about them raptors hope you had fun oh and by the way I hope you won't be slashed down by one!
Oh, I see. What's your first language (if you don't mind my asking)?
And I'll see if I can help out a bit. At the beginning of every line in a poem, the first letter should be capitalized. At the end of every line, maybe use a bit more punctuation, like commas and periods, etc.
You're rhyming is great, which really helps. I think if you used the two things I said above, it would help a ton. Of course, your poems are great anyway. They just need a little housekeeping.
hebrew, I am from israel, lived for 2 years in USA and passed the ELS test, thank you for the advice, I'll post more poems and stories later on, for now (as my poem says) I have a little burst of in-creativity.... or im just tired, can't really tell.
What's the deal with all those pigeons? Come from groups of four to numebered legions old woman at the park, feeding them bread those quite weird birds, as I just said they want more and more grains, until they get fat they are cute but plan world domination, just like a cat a little child comes, and chases them away how annoyed they are now, that he interuppted their sway I see them at the park, thint about them I will write as the little kid chases them, they start their flight I paste the picture in my mind, into a poem, like glue then suddenly, the smell on my head, smells of pigeon poo
I know is a bit bad but I just thought about it and didn't bother to work on it hard, Im simulataneos, not the kind of person that reviews their poem over and over and makes it perfect... though its atleast something well isn't it?
all those people killing each-other another sister killing another brother another dad killing another mother is this how it is suppose to be? Tell them to stop they say "maybe" all those generals all those politicians killing more souls with great ambition more sticks, more clubs, more spears, more swords more bows, more maces, more guns, less words more death, more agony, nothing can be repaired no joy, no art, no lifes to be spared more tanks, more troops, landing on a beach all die, all wasted, their life out of reach come to war, come to fight and to die demonic flames brought by bombs, falling from the sky. another blood spilled, another hating, sad family the horrible abomination of a government and it's enemy.
anyways here is a poem my teacher made us write at class today, it is a nice little practice for all you poets you need to write a poem using only (or mostly) I am sentences, here's my go
I am imagination, never stops thinking I am an elevator, going up and down fast like blinking I am earth, gliding along with other planets only special with life though I also a loner, un-active, the dull end of a knife I am a writer, words, lines and rhymes not like others, not copying them like all them other mimes I am my hair, as einstein said "my thoughts are as long as my hair" I am shaped and transformed by generations, like royalty and its heir I am me, not you, not him, not tryig to be not a champion, not popular, not fast as a bee but Im me, and thats good, not trying to fight I write poems and some stories as my mind sets off in flight.
you know what I noticed? I haven't written stuff a lot of time...
thats over lets get writing random stuff! I'm thinking too much... weird place, weird land
books lined up, most are sci fi weird mess, nothing cleaned, you ask why? cause them ancient creatures like army- lined up to find your way here you'll need a map fighters of sky, sitting untouched a weird scary place, never to be matched a case filled with gambling, books that came from school a weird place, mixed up, to it's kind a mule on the mot of them books there is that one writer's name clinging together, they are all just the same up and down, on and off a switch in the distance in that one weird place there is an un-familiar essence records of history, a book to help drawing a lone reader, on his book's lines and words its just gnawing a weird shaped ball in a weird shaped place never seeing another, never trying to keep pace a belt of orange, shoes for hikes no white-clean clothes, no old dirty bike cards of monsters, used to play, now abandoned blank pages, no writing around un-binded machine of thoughts, machine split in two a lot of grey and not that much blue some water of living, a window for light and air come to this weird place and you better beware of the fullness it has, and all those weird things landmark after landmark, bind the place in a ring things from other dimensions of the world all those things which about them I was told in a poem, in some words, hidden in lines in light shiny heavens, in dark scary mines a closed door detaching the land from the others detaching from hate, separating from bother some times it is opened, the wonders of the weird land are revealed the inhibitors get annoyed, the inhibitors get billed for being in peace, in this awful weird land singing the tunes of their favorite band while working hard to put ideas in people's minds a nice scent of peace, to the land's inhibitors it binds then demons come, trashing the land with hate and war then instead of "that's good" there's just "bring up more" the harsh spirit of the land then takes it's toll ending them ogres, goblins and trolls shooing threat away, like a volcano erupting then war is over, again starts adapting to this weird, scary place in a weird, scary land bringing freedom instead of command a never ending cycle of war and then peace sorry I am that all of that you just miss as night falls on the weird land, everything goes to sleep farmers of weird land saying good-night to their sheep dreams fill the land, a mystery that comes in no day it shows you wonderful things, only if you ask "if I may" then wakes weird land, work has to begin abundance of it's inhibitor's minds, necessary by all means that the land too will go to sleep, be abandoned for cleaning it makes no sense it has no meaning then the work ends, life and minds rise again the land of weird, the room of a man
towers of green lurch from the wet ground so much of them standing on the mound of cold wet leaves that still haven't gone from the fall that is over, from the autumn that's done insect of machinery stay in their place awaiting the traffic, awaiting some race a wind of cold, brushing the warmth away it freezes all that never obey the instinct of the wild, humans now occupy saying to the nature their warm good bye and leave it to be, while taking some in ruined nature travel a son and his mom going into the insect of machines, going away going into their life's normal sway of an endless cycle of education some times between there's vocation mountains from the distance, massive with snow staying their place as the wind blows their snow away at coming of summer dancing peacefully with nature's own grammar
