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This Paradox That Is Life
Of Ink Spots & Printed Lines
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eLJei addict
The following are an assortment of poems I wrote during a creative writing paper I took during the summer. As such, all of them are inspired by in-class exercises (as was part of our final assignment). Nothing too spectacular.

Old Man Reaching

He reaches upward, praying
His rotted skin peeling
Revealing bone and hurts
To a sky never reached.

Dark children hide, quietly
Beneath their leafy canopy,
Odd white toes peeking
Still the old man reaches.

All-seeing eyes look on, unflinching
Tall and proud, unblinking
Casting light on a concrete beach,
Still the old man reaches.

God in his glory, standing
High above hands reaching.
Cold and hard, sickly grey
Still the old man prays.

(This poem written from ideas inspired by the simile practice exercise between Central Library and Registry.)

Faraway On Home Shore

Two majestic sisters stood side-by-side,
Looking upon the ocean and the world.
They saw their futures with promise and pride,
But in 1912 it all unfurled.

In came April with its iceberg-filled seas
The youngest, going too fast, hit the ice.
Her starboard badly gashed, her insides seized,
And for that she paid the ultimate price.

Panic filled the air that night, screams, shouts, cries
Trampling, snapping, groaning as her aft rose.
Deep within, little sister slowly dies
An almighty snap – a roar! – down she goes.

All were one – the ship, the rich and the poor.
In the Atlantic, the dead, the frozen
Swimming naked on the cold ocean floor
While above waited the living, the broken.

Their lives before them seemed all but veiled,
And back on home shore a sister wailed.

(Sonnet inspired by the photo of the White Star Line sister-ships, RMS Olympic and RMS Titanic.)

The Life of Heart

The heart beat begins the tune,
To lives it brings a life a new.
Of love it brings and gives, a boon.
It beats strong in some and none in few.

The heart spies gold, an ugly thing,
It twists the heart, makes it yearn for greed.
A life of opulence and living like a king
What once a want is now a need.

The heart turns black, an inescapable void,
Seeing nothing joyful takes its toll.
Darkness consumes, engulfs, swallows heart whole,
Heart rebels against the head and soul.

The heart feels an icy grip around it
Winter doesn’t last forever
But where black is hate, white is death
The heart beat’s tune now never.

The heart joins the stars at night
To wish upon, to weep over, to hope
That bright one there is the heart
Loved, consumed, rebelled and dead.

(This poem written from ideas inspired by the senses exercise, using three words to describe certain things (heart, gold, black, winter, stars).)

St Patrick’s

Tall, white and majestic,
It towers above all.
Standing out like a jewel
On the crown of Her Majesty.
Like a white gothic thumb,
That sticks out sore and pale.
Bare trees and dead street,
Bow and kneel before
The cathedral in its splendour.
Looking cold, imposing, too big,
While wooden house shrinks,
Like a pauper,
In a rich man’s shadow.

(Poem inspired by photograph of St Patrick’s Cathedral, in Palmerston North.)

Domestic GoddessCollapse )

Flying Deaf ZombieCollapse )

Five HaikuCollapse )

Incessant WeightCollapse )
All Green
[Word of the Week] Haircut

"You should cut your hair off, Ez," remarked Shàden, once upon a time ago. "You look like a girl."

Eztien paused in what he was doing and turned slowly to look at his younger brother, a stunned look on his face. "I'm sorry, what?"

Shàden didn't answer him for a moment as he finished off drying the plate in his hand. Setting it down on the table, he faced his brother and calmly looked him in the eye. "You heard me."

Eztien blinked. "Of course I heard you, fool. I was just surprised since you have no room to talk!" He looked pointedly at his brother's longer hair that was in a loose braid over his shoulder. "Pot calling kettle black, don't you think?"

Shàden rolled his eyes and turned back to the bench, reaching for another plate to dry. "That's true enough," he started. "But all things considered, I do not appreciate other people flirting with me, thinking I am you-"


"-or being asked if I have a sister when they find out I'm me. Honestly, you'd think everyone knew that there are two Etra'neh sons." A silence followed as the two looked at each other, Eztien completely bewildered and Shàden, arms crossed, wearing a bored-looking expression that said 'that's why.'

Eztien opened his mouth to retort the closed it again. Shàden raised an eyebrow as if to goad him. 'Well?'

"Well, why don't you get your hair cut off? I'm not the one who's complaining."

"Because I, unlike you, look male no matter which angle you see me from." He turned back to the dishes as his brother simply gaped at him, like a fish out of water. Shàden had obviously been planning this little conversation!

"I can't believe you think I look like a girl!" Eztien exclaimed after a minute, still trying to get over his shock.

Shàden simply looked at him and smirked. "I don't think, I know. Besides," he sniffed, "I like my hair the way it is." He flung his braid back for emphasis as he turned back to the dishes again, ending the conversation.

Eztien simply glowered at his back a moment before he walked out of the room. His muttered comment of "fucking smart arse," as he left made Shàden grin.


Author Note: Don't ask. haha. Seriously, I have no idea where I was going with this, and they were the first two characters to come to mind...
Title: [untitled]
Fandom: Slipknot
Rating: G
Notes: Random scene from a Slipknot fic I never wrote in the end. Maybe one day?

Corey opened his eyes and let out a deep sigh.Collapse )
Nov.02.06 - NaNo'06 » Day I
This is jerky, rather two bits of writing together. The second bit isn't structured but I can work on it after NaNo. There is no plot for this NaNo, rather ideas and whatnot.

There isn't really knowing how far you would go during a storm of extraordinary difference to one that you are accustomed to.Collapse )

~ + ~

To be simply put, I am the Death God.'Collapse )

426 / 50,000
eLJei addict
A/N: This was written back in May, and regards more than one person. However, if one so much desires to, they can draw a vague line to present events too. BUT this initially and foremost was written about events that took place five months ago, regarding different people.

anonymous//U N K N O W NCollapse )

See Me Cry
These Are My Tears

never//Y O U a n d ICollapse )

This is my depression in my own way. As I have many more issues to write down, this remains incomplete.
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