writers?

ya i know there's a writer's forum but it's dead. i want to know if there are any writers/poets in the hizzouse?

im currently co-authoring a book with a friend of mine who has published two books before, so the likelyhood of getting published (in a full book at least...i've been published in a few magazines but nothing big). im also writing on a few side projects. hoping to have it finished by next summer.

if you are a writer, dont be shy- post some of your work. i'd like to read it.:cheers2:

 

Hello there, here's a compilation of a few different poems that I have saved on my PC.

Oranges peaches lemon colored sands
sunshine glistens on the water that stands
it hears your thoughts everything you say
whether you mumble it or yell it loud as day

even angels sometimes they think
about lifes comparison to a shiny roller rink
every leeching palm fishes to get closer to the rainbow colored fishes

surrounding my eyes
surrounding my ears
did i just taste that D chord?
or was schizophrenia just getting a little bored?

I call this next one Synthetic Theoretic.

I am one as
we are three
peaceful at night
so blatant to see
the illuminating energy
thats beaming from me
blind to the unseen eye
try to find
for the possibilitys are endless
the future is visible
the drums beat uncorded and divisible
but now there is no other pleace for me
for we can be where we cannot sea

 

Closest I have is various lyrics I've written. I was playing around with different styles when I wrote these, so they're all supposed to be different styles. glass coffin is a cannibal corpse type song, the end of sanity is more of a standard rock/nu metal type song, and under the electric lights tells more of a story so i see it being probably a prog metal type song.

glass coffin:
Chorus:
Decaying remains
Rotting for all to see
On display in a
Glass Coffin

There is little left of the face.
A few features that used to be:
A piece of bone, maybe a nose.
A flap of skin dangling,
Exposing the maggot infested,
Cavernous depths of the mouth.
Pink ooze flowing out of the fragmented skull.

Chorus:
Decaying remains
Rotting for all to see
On display in a
Glass Coffin

The torso a bloody mess,
Breeding ground for insects Making a meal of the organs:
Stomach, Liver, Kidneys,
All ravaged by the feast within.

Chorus:
Decaying remains
Rotting for all to see
On display in a
Glass Coffin

How easily we forget
What death truly is,
Hidden from us by our attempts to sanitize it.
Embalming, preservation of the corpse,
All to protect us from the truth.

Chorus:
Decaying remains
Rotting for all to see
On display in a
Glass Coffin

The End of Sanity:
(Spoken)
There is a battle going on every day
It never stops, and it's never won
We're spiraling into the abyss in the struggle
to preserve life as we know it.

(Song Starts)
Our way of life is dying
Violence is taking control
Power is consolidated and poverty spreads
Crime takes over
And war is on the horizon
An ever present threat

(Chorus)
This is the end of sanity
The beginning of an Age of Brutality
And the end of humanity

The world will never be the same again
After it all comes to an end
When the future is worse than the past
The question must be asked:
Why do I need to be here?
I'll make my escape now
Rather than die in the shamed wreckage of today

Chorus

This is the end of sanity
This is the end of everything
It's over
Say goodbye

under the electric lights:
Standing on the sidewalk,
Waiting to hitch a ride.
Nothing in sight,
All dark but the harsh glow of the electric lights.
Headlights approaching,
A moment's hesitation,
But the need to know for sure is too much to bear.
Just one step,
The sound of metal and bone cleaving,
Shattering glass.
The last thing I see is car and tree
melded into one being

As my life flashes before my eyes,
I see my childhood,
pushed into some forgotten corner of memory:
first day of school,
first fuck,
all firsts leading to this last.

I look down and see myself in a hospital bed,
Shrouded in healing white light,
Surrounded by friends,
family.

It is only an illusion.
I lie,
waiting,
bleeding my soul out on the pavement
under the electric lights.

 

I use to write free-verse poems but most of them are pretty horrid in my opinion but I'll share some of my poems I like they have alittle bit of a rhyme but all my teachers told me they were free-verse so idk

Butterflies:
By-Mary Dockery-Pogue
11:05pm
thursday
aug/11/05

Butterflies flutter by on a sunny day
As I watch from my cage
They are so pure in their life
As I am so sinister in mine
Butterflies
Mother Nature's Angels
Me
Mother Nature's Demon
For I am a human who does not care
Mother Nature cares not what is done to her
But what is done to her children
I have captured a butterfly
In hopes one day I will be in its place
as it flutters by on a sunny day

Birthday
By-Mary Dockery-Pogue
Nov/9/05
-no clock-
Wednesday

Birthday

Her birthday is coming
The day she'll be 15
The day she is suppose to be happy
But what if she's not
Will the world stop turning
Will the world ever care
Will it be hard for anyone to notice
She'll smile and pretend to be happy
Because this day only comes one a year
She's scared her friends will forget
She's scared her lover won't care
She will love herself on that one day
She's not going to let them get to her
She'll love herself on the inside if not on the out...

these are the only two I could stomach to post(might be able to find some more I like) because I'm so afraid of people reading what I've written

 

I am a writer, but I write for work/business purposes. Constantly writing articles, blog posts and designing adcopy/webcopy for my websites. I never thought I would be writing so much as a profession, but I really do enjoy it. I cant compete with the poetry and stories I have read in this forum already, but just wanted to share that I too craft words.

 

THIS I$ AMERICA
The unknown street understood by the lowliest criminal and exploited by the most savvy business man.
The rolling grain hills that beget our fiendish appetite.
The fuel we give to our placated future.
Our once had, but which soon left.
Our forever towering structure waning in the wind.
New elements infused delaying freefall.
Understandable passing as understood.
Revolts and reverts.
Undertow in the calming tide.
The shining lights being our North Star.
Scorning of tradition in favor of revolution.
Lashing tongues at encroaching evil while doing little to suppress our own.
Ever-sinking growth.
Torpedoes of faith and awestruck onlookers finding the path to the end.
Weaving industrial into a merriment with what is natural.
Our uncontrollable and unforgiving destiny in a Petri dish.
A cataclysm of times.
The ordaining of cubic-spheres and the whitewash of our fabrics.
Honesty being moot and mundane.
Realizations and visualizations.
Twist the unkempt and corner the weary.
Pacify the challengers and keep at bay the truth.
Amass the ranks for they will soon be depleted.
Scouring the bottom for the remnants of the strong.
A puzzle of shambles set in melting adhesive.
An alloy of the unidentified.
The wants of hope slipping.
Our vices becoming our victories, upstaging preemptive moral.
Fate beckons to little resistance.
Hesitation due to doubtfulness.
Giving way to only phases of the moon.
Rigor in the face of the unforeseen.
Rectify chosen idols and silence the collective.
Dog your values and howl.

 

Treat one as they are, forget not- human, yes
Disposable for more, kept close for warmth
Cascaded feelings flowing into a more bountiful body, diffused-diluted
Prized and a blunder, I am one as you are each others
Segmented and withering- acknowledged and pilfering, waiting for the cliff to lean- fall
Touted dismay within, a confident sulk
Gravitate to hallowed truths, forget others which pain
Caution gifts for they will be lost, soiled, trampled, turned
Neutralize with the earth, it is sustenance- it is lasting
Congregate your base, cover the faults- step
Goad faithfulness- pelt fearfulness- tromp the night
Feel and breathe- return home
Spill and heave hurt- rise, see- cradle your stone, lay beneath and shed
Internalize-grow

 

just one of my favorite free verse poems ive writtten and i had to do a picture becuase i cant type it the write way on here

 

LOL!!! you can't type it either. :cheers2:

 

maybe i did that on purpose a cute little writers pun

 

I do all my writing on line less paper in a sketch book. I find it keeps things more open and unofficial...the way I like.

I have load of songs but I am not posting them. It's pointless without melody.

 

very true

 

i write lotta music hard to tell when u cant hear it reading musi/lyrics isnt the same

 

I write music mostly now but I used to write a lot of poetry and a few shorts. I'm working on a book right now, a dystopian novel about mankind's battle with a genetic disease... I might post some excerpts in a bit. It's going to be a while before it's ready but I do want to get it published and know a few people who are going to help... May actually use it as a thesis since I'm in social sciences.. we shall see

 

i love writing but i hate doing it the rite way.. grammer.. i could never write a book... but i look foward to reading some of urs zilla!

 

grammar is second nature for me, I taught a grammar class for incoming freshman at my high school for a couple of summers. There are a lot of rules, but once you know them, you're ace, and writing is a game. Plus, the more in control you are of your writing the more ways you figure out to bend dem rules...

 

I love to write and to punctuate. It's very elegant to formally write a thought or argument, and to be able to express your mind and give a desired feeling while put the reader in another world is an art. I love good writing, but I am not much in to reading classic literature...bores me for some reason. I like more modern stuff.

 

i was published at the bright young age of 5. i wish i was inspired enough to write, and that i had the time. but, i guess that's what i get for living my life for others.

 

For some reason, even though I really would like to write a novel, I'm never able to come up with a story that interests me enough to write it. I think if I was going to write something, it would have to be more than just a story - it would have to have some kind of deeper meaning to it for me to be willing to invest the time to do it.