Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Writing Adventures #4

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This is a Wednesday feature for Writer Person. Here I showcase little writings that I have written and share what I've been up to writing-wise. The writings may be recent, old, relating to book I'm working on, or a random scene that came to me.

So I'm just renaming this feature to what I originally had. Sorry if that's confusing. It's basically the same thing. And this title is a lot more accurate.

So I've made a new friend. Her name is Ashtyn from Wonderland's Reader. I feel so weird for mentioning her, but I'm doing it for a reason, I swear! See, I was talking to her a lot over the weekend and we've made a couple of goals that I desperately need to accomplish.

What are those goals?

* Get some sort of writing in every day

*Finish a dang book, hopefully by the fall. I'm hoping before school starts again, even though it hasn't ended yet. (Even though I wish it had...)

How are these goals working out for me? Well.... I got a really good outline for my sci-fi. The beginning is totally different and I'm debating a name change to one of the minor characters. I have no idea why, it doesn't matter one way or another. But it does. It so does. So maybe a name change!
But, um, as for writing every day... Nope, I just have that outline. I'm hoping to squeeze in some old-fashioned writing during class. By old-fashioned I mean pen and paper, since I hardly have my laptop in between class assignments. (Sometimes I wish, though.)

And that second goal is up in the air, because I have several months to do that. But if I don't get started on the first goal, I may never get there. So I must write!

Because of a serious time crunch, I don't have any miscellaneous writing for today. I couldn't even dig up a lame poem, sorry about that.

But I can post one of my favorite poems!

Hope you enjoy it!

(Sorry if it's a little depressing o.o)

The Hollow Men

Mistah Kurtz—he dead.

A penny for the Old Guy


We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us—if at all—not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.


Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death's dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind's singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death's dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer—

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom


This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man's hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death's other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.


The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death's twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.


Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o'clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

(In case you were wondering, yes, my favorite part is that last stanza. Actually, the whole fifth part. But mostly that last stanza.)


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