A poem about a poor bard (who shares many real life problems to myself) who can't get his songs to work!
A tribute to Simone, Emily, Gardner, and all those other countless casualties to this fearsome menace that strangely enough, inspired me.
The creature is mentioned all the time at Elfwood...but what exactly is a muse? What does a muse do and what does it do when it is not weaving its typical inspiration?
I guess these are just poems I wrote yesterday when I had writers block.
(Also 'Beyond the Beast'.) Hey all concerned. This is the unofficial after series of my mod's story 'Combating the Beast'. Enjoy. By Order.
I was at school, had not written anything that year (4th January, but still) nor for a long time before that. My first writer block. I wanted to write something I could remember as my first thing written this year. I thought for what seemed like forever and then I figured it out. Why not just write about someone who cant write? And that is what I did. At first it was supposed to be a poem without any rime or anything like that but then the rime just came into it. Im horrible at poems, I know that, but this one was special enough to me to put it up here for being my first writing in the year 2007.
This piece was meant to be a study in dialogue, a skill I had failed to pick up in my writing ability in the past. By the time it was done I had re-read the entire first act of Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot in order to keep my tone right. This work could well be described as a twisted Absurdist work. Oh, and nothing that happens is accidental.
While keeping watch at night over the seals of the local sea life centre, Jeremy finds out there's more than just fur and flippers to his residents.Originally written and accepted in the EMG-zine of March 2009.
I'm going through the first 3 chapters and completely rewriting them - this is the first of those rewrites. It's faster moving, and explains less at the beginning - leaving it for later on. Enjoy!
I don't know about you, but just about everything I write down looks kind of like this until I can work up the courage to beat it into somehting resembling a good poem and/or story. Ah, the trials of writing! It never ends...