Thank you Oh it's okay, I don't really need to solve the conflict, it just bugs me sometimes :P Plus, I'm not going to tell anyone what it is anyway.
I wrote this next poem a good 2 or 3 years ago! I don't suppose it's relevant any more, but I still like it.
I Can't Explain
I've been tossing and turning, In a space thatâs too small. I can't give as much to you, When you give me your all.
When thinking of us, Is all I can really do. And there's no space in my heart, Where I don't love you.
But I can't explain, Why itâs not enough, When you give your all to me. No, I can't explain, Why the days are rough, And the nights are as tough as can be.
I smile without knowing, In the moments we're talking, It makes me feel better, But time keeps on walking.
It's not running out, But it doesn't get closer, The lights are shut off, And for that day it's over.
And I can't explain, Why I hurt deep inside, But I don't pin the blame on you. No, I can't explain, Why I constantly hide, From the dreams that I wish would come true.
It's an endless routine, This façade that I've found. A beaten dirt path, On the circular ground.
And I'll just keep going, And Iâll only look back, When my heart falls behind On our downtrodden track.
Weâre just not that perfect, And there's room for mistakes, Yet I guess I will stay, For as long as it takes.
Sorry if I'm breaking the whole Rennaisance thing, but I have to say that I'm enraptured with your work. It's... complexly simple, in such a way that it never loses the depth of the emotion, even if the feeling may change, like in Surrendered. True genius, so please don't leave again, the AMW needs this. It's been dead for so long, and I never really admitted it, until I realized these few poems must only be a fraction of what the old AG was like. So carry on with the Rennaisance, please.
Thank you, you're very kind. Yeah, the old AG was excellent, there was so much creativity flying around in this forum and all the artists were familiar with each other. Newb writers were welcomed and properly critiqued by the 'vet' writers and it was a great atmosphere in general.
I might dig out some poems from my old writing thread, even though most of them were.. Amateur at best
Dig up your old poems! Or better yet, add the new stuff.
I'll be a bit naughty and post that old story I wrote. Remember a few days ago you asked me to bring your character back? Well here you go..
The First Meet - Part 1 of 3
He sneaked out the back door and climbed over the garden gate, making his way to the fields his father tended. The sky was cloudy, casting dark shadows on the already dark ground. The boy ran, stumbling and tripping over the soil and getting caught up in the towering wheat and barley. His foot caught on a dry mound of earth and he went tumbling to the ground. He lay there a while, breathing heavily into the soil, eyes squeezed tightly shut. He could feel his body getting hotter and hotter as he curled his hands into fists. He punched the ground, "No, not yet!"
The clouds parted, allowing pale yellow light to cast upon the area. The boy's head snapped back and he willed his eyes to stay shut. He pounded the ground again, this time leaving a fist shaped hole in the hard soil.
His whole body was sweating, his chest heaving with the effort to produce regular slow breaths. As the clouds pulled further apart the moonlight hit him square in the face, dealing him a monsterous blow to his willpower.
With that, his eyes pulled themselves open, now fully black pupils, all traces of his once hazel colouring gone. He trained his eyes on the moon, still struggling to fight himself, but also staring at the globe in awe. His body started to shake, loosening the earth beneath him as he writhed in the moonlight. His hands clawed at the soil, ripping up the crops innocently growing around him, as he attempted to shout in protest. All that escaped from his bared teeth was a low snarl. Mud streaked up his arms and face as he continued digging his fingers into the ground, trying to pull himself up. "I can control it." he growled.
Then just as instantly as it began, it ceased. The clouds knit back across the moon like curtains after a puppet show and the boy stopped shaking quite to violently. He began coughing weakly, sat up, wrapped his arms around his knees and let out a few choked up sobs.
After he had calmed himself down he checked his watch. It read 11:36. "Oh god, this one lasted far too long!"
Scrambling up he slung the sports back over his shoulder, wincing when it collided with his spine. He ran off over the field, this time not hesitating to get up when he fell. He made it to the other side and stared defiantly at his next hurdle; the woods his father recently obtained. Stumbling again, straight into the heart of the woods, the boy found the thickest oak tree he could hope to use. The trunk was as broad as a 4x4 and the branches ontop were a tangled mess, as wide as a house. The boy stopped against this tree and threw his bag to the floor. "Right. Lets hope my parents don't come looking for me..." he sighed. "Like they actually would..."
He untied the strings holding the bag together and pulled out a thick steel chain. The coils were each 2 inches thick and on either end of the 8ft chain there hung heavy cuffs. He wrapped it around the back of the tree and twisted around to slip his wrists into each cuff. Pullling tightly on the chain, he sighed as he couldn't get further than a few inches away from the tree. The cuffs left small red marks around his wrists; what would a whole night of straining do to them?
He twisted his head to glance at his watch. 11:58. Two minutes. He could see nothing, but that would change. He heard a murmur up above.
A tiny voice fluttered through the trees. "Hi ther-"
"I said GET AWAY!"
The voice sounded indignant. "Well that's no way to talk to someone now, is it?"
"Listen, I'm in no fit state to talk polite to you. I don't want to hurt you. I suggest you leave. NOW."
"I don't think you're in any position to hurt me, to be honest, boy" came the same sing-song voice. "This your sick fantasy, is it?"
The boy groaned, "Oh just leave will you?! I don't know what you want, but I do know you'll get it in a minute. You can have whatever you like when you're dead."
"Okay boy, I seriously don't like your ton-"
The moon ripped a hole through the clouds. The bird carrying the voice lit up in sparks of orange and red and the boy muttered a barely audible "I warned you..." before losing all human instincts and clawing viciously at the tree trunk, intent on killing his poor victim. The bird was glowing brighter than ever before, matched only by the light from the full moon.
One solitary howl ripped through the night, accompanied by one terrified, piercing scream.
I also like your poems.... Very meaningful. Ish. Better than mine, anyway. And about that one.... No, it's not too inappropriate. It's only vaguely alluding to... Well, y'know.
