Ooops. Managed to forget that I made this thing…
In all hopes I’ll be properly posting my writing on here again soon. I’m going to try harder to remember to, at any rate.
Me, Myself, and I
I am my own person
I know this much is true
I’ll stay my own person
And I know just what to do
Don’t let the world affect me
In ways that it should not
Don’t let the world infect me
Lest in monotony I be caught
Always
Always
Always
I shan’t forget myself
My thoughts are all my own
They won’t be changed by you
My thoughts remain my own
They’re stuck with me like glue
Until the end of days
I’ll seek what I have sought
Until my end of days
I’ll seek myself until I’m caught
Always
Always
Always I can’t forget myself.
Excerpt’s from Ophelia’s Journal
This was for an english project. Essentially Hamlet fanfiction…but whatever. Spoilers if you don’t know anything about the play.
In The Misty Outside
It seemed that no one had much use for music anymore. I was an exception to that rule. I never understood how they could let song die out as they watched the world crumble around them. Music is the only thing that makes sense. It’s the only thing that’s ever made sense. It makes all the troubles slip away for a few sweet moments when that suspended fourth is perfect. Pure bliss.
Everyone knows my name, my voice. But few know my mind and soul. I’m seen as “that frivolous kid who refuses to see the world around him”. But that’s bullshit. I see just fine. In fact, sometimes I think I see more than any of the elds around me.
Unsure
She held her life in her own hands
as if it were a globe,
made of the finest spun sugar
one could find in all the land.
She gently caressed it,
unsure of how to proceed.
She couldn’t squeeze to tightly,
in fear that it would break.
Nor could she cradle it too loosely
lest it fall to the ground
and shatter into a million bits.
So there she remained,
unsure of anything.
(Source: megalin15--inactive)
Questions
Does the music of the people
cause you to listen to their cause?Will the beating of the drums
make you cringe away in fear?Are there gunshots in your city
used as a warning for those who think?Are they saying what they mean
or are they using doublespeak?
(Source: megalin15--inactive)
I’ve Just Seen A Face for Kay.
Pairing: Fischer/Eames
Rating: E FOR ERRYBODY
Word count: 458
Description: He had fallen in love, just for that moment, with a man whose name he never learned.Eames glanced down at the file on the table in front of him and studied the mark. Mr. Robert Fischer, he thought, Interesting.
Who is he? Robert thought, as his eyes passed the man for what seemed like the millionth time. He knew that the man had been on his flight. He knew that the man had broad shoulders, stubble, a scar on his eyebrow, and the fullest lips imaginable. He knew that the man had this undeniable sexuality about his person. And he knew that he had seen the man before. He just didn’t know where or when, and it was driving him crazy.
Eames felt eyes on the back of his head and turned slightly, catching Fischer quickly looking away from him. He allowed himself a moment of indulgence and appraised the smaller man. He was slim, with fair features, and the clearest blue eyes Eames had ever run across in his life. He wondered what would have happened had the two men met under different circumstances, but he shook the thought off and turned away.
Robert steeled himself and approached the man.
Eames felt a tap on his shoulder and momentarily stiffened. Turning, he saw Fischer standing behind him and casually concealed the surprise that jolted him. “Can I help you?” he asked, his eyes flicking around for the rest of the team. He knew Cobb would be livid if he saw this, not that he particularly cared.
Fidgeting a bit Robert tried to compose himself. “Err. Yes. You look familiar. I was wondering if we had met before…” he trailed off, realizing how idiotic he sounded.
Eames hid a smile, noticing Fischer fidgeting. Amused by his awkwardness he decided to play along for a moment or two. “I believe we were on the same flight. From Sydney.”
“Well, yes. I just thought…” Robert paused and furrowed his brow, unsure of what he was feeling and thinking. What is this? I don’t even know this man…
He knew he was pressing his luck, talking to Fischer so soon after the job. Glancing down at his watch Eames gathered his luggage together. “Sorry mate, can’t say I’ve seen you before today. I’ve got to dash.”
Robert watched the man walk away, admiring the way the muscles in his shoulders moved when he hoisted up his luggage. He had fallen in love, just for that moment, with a man whose name he never learned.
Eames squeezed his eyes shut as he strode away, resisting the urge to capture those deep blue eyes one last time. As he walked he tried not to think about what might have been, what could have been, in a world where he hadn’t just broken into the mind of a beautiful young man.
(Source: megalin15--inactive)
The Power of Song
Although it’s not yet evening,
people are filling the streets.
The festival has barely begun.
Voices raised in song,
legs moving in a dance,
air full of the sounds of merriment.
All are rejoicing together.What is the weather doing?
It can’t seem to make up it’s mind
to be sunny
to be cloudy.
It flickers back and forth
as though infected by the scene on the streets.Is there a kind of rejoicing
that encapsulates this pure emotion?
A celebration of music and love
of dance and joy
of performance and passion.
A festival celebrating art.In one wild, lit upsurging
the people join as one.
They breathe and sing and love in unison.
For a moment…
One all too brief moment…
They are once force
brought together by song.
By love.
By passion.This was written for my poetry class. Our prompt was to choose a poem from our textbook and borrow the first line of each stanza to use as the first lines in each stanza of our own poem. The first line in each stanza of the above poem correspond with the poem The Persistence of Song by Howard Moss. I also took a line out of his third stanza because I really wanted to use it.
(Source: megalin15--inactive)
Tempting Fate
I find it to be fascinating.
So many ideas and feelings.
Never know how to begin.
Bettering your skills;
Stewing in my frustration.
Offhand mock-offended comments:
Funniest thing in the world.
No clue where to begin,
Where to end.
Emotion lives in poetry.
Flows and breathes.
Lives and is
More than what it appears to be.
This is how to go about it.
Wandering.
Beautiful.
(Source: megalin15--inactive)
