Blondemoon Posted January 21, 2003 Report Posted January 21, 2003 Ok, I've decided to post some things that I wrote while I was still in high school. Found the notebook they were in one day while cleaning. Needless to say, I didn't get much else done for an hour or two. I must add that Annael had a great deal to do with persuading me to post these, cause I don't think they're very good. I'm going to post them as they were written, so I apologize for lack of stanzas and such. Can I not find peace? Peace of mind, peace of spirit, peace of anything? Thoughts buzz through, too fast for me to grasp. Not a moments peace comes to this weary soul. If not anger, some other emotion pounds through my veins at the pace of life. I cannot slow down; I cannot speed up. Cannot follow life at its frantic pace. Wish I could stop, but to stop would mean to have peace. Heaven knows I cannot be allowed that. Besides, why should I have time for peace while other demons roil? First rage, then hate, then anger. Guilt, sadness, jealousy. And on and on and on, it never ceases. (Like the blood in my veins and my heartbeat (breathing)) It must follow the pace that life has set, leaving no time for peace. A moments peace is all I'd need to collect my buzzing thoughts and put them in place. (Silence them) Here comes peaces, and with it comes lethargy, and follows it...Death. There, at last I have peace. (presumably written sometime in early 1998)
Rune Posted January 21, 2003 Report Posted January 21, 2003 Rune notices Blondemoon across the room and rushes over to be within earshot. She appears to be quite excited that the presenter is reading. Listening to the words echo slightly through the room she sinks into a chair in the back. Amazed at the amount of sadness and dispair being conveyed she tears up slightly. When the presentation is over the crowd begins to discuss the piece in hushed whispers. Walking towards the stage area, Rune reaches into her pocket to find a tiny ball of string. She pulls it out and strings it between two tiny fingers on each hand, making a sort of taunt connection between the two. Chewing between the twines on her fingers she cuts off a small bit of the string. She silently moves towards Blondemoon and holds out the piece of string to indicate that she would like it to be taken. This is the only piece I have. I know its not much, but consider it your own piece of this world. The child obviously has gotten the word play on peace and piece confused but no one has the heart to tell her. She walks away leaving Blondemoon holding a somewhat soggy piece of string and looking bewildered. Stopping at the door she turns and looks back before waving and heading back out into the hall. If this is your early work, then you have nothing to be concerned about. Raw emotion can be a very hard thing to portray and you have done a remarkable job at doing so. I think you put to paper what most people feel at times in their lives when their world speeds up and they feel left behind.
Degenero Angelus Posted January 21, 2003 Report Posted January 21, 2003 Raw emotions are good inspiration, if it leaves the poetry a little sloppy. I like it, it seems a lot like some of my older stuff as well.
jonathan_wolfe Posted January 21, 2003 Report Posted January 21, 2003 It's what makes us feel alive, to laugh, to cry, to love and hate. The human condition, well done Blondemoon! Applauds heartily.
Blondemoon Posted January 21, 2003 Author Report Posted January 21, 2003 Blondemoon smiles as she looks down at the soggy piece of string, knowing that it was well meant You're right Deg (and I do believe I know you too...not sure though), raw emotion does tend to leave the poetry a little sloppy. Speaking of which...I really should clean one of the ones I've already posted up. But even though this one was written by a younger, much more näive self, after I had typed it out, I had to sit back and take it in, because I couldn't believe that that had come from me. I remember writing it, and even more importantly why I wrote it. Heh, I even think I wrote it in my english class, unprompted obviously. (Yet, when I had to write a sonnet as an assignment, I couldn't force the words out of my fingers for the life of me. Eventually did, but what I did with that piece of writing, I'm not sure.... Blondemoon's voice trails off for a moment, lost in the paths of mostly forgotten things, then her attention snaps back to the present Egads, how my mind wanders these days.
Degenero Angelus Posted January 21, 2003 Report Posted January 21, 2003 Yeah, you know me. You think there was more the one Deg on earth?
Rune Posted January 21, 2003 Report Posted January 21, 2003 Yet, when I had to write a sonnet as an assignment, I couldn't force the words out of my fingers for the life of me. Eventually did, but what I did with that piece of writing, I'm not sure.... Oi, I know how that goes. I could write an essay for my own amusement on anything until it was an assignment. Then I struggled to even figure out a title. Of course this proves one thing, that all assignments should be outlawed and people should be allowed to write about what they want.
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