Thread: Post your English short-writings.

I climbed to the top of the mountain

I looked down and saw all I had become

All that had become me

I realised I needed water

I was dying of thirst

I climbed down to the river

In the valley where the mountains meet

I drank from the water and felt satisfied

Since then my river has run dry

no more water pours down the other mountain

the rains have stopped

I sit here waiting for the rains

Dehydrated

Then one night I awoke

To rain drops on my face

Morning comes

My river bed is wet

one day I hope I can spend my days swimming in the river

water will pour down the sides of both mountains

and fill the river

IT started out good, then I was disappointed.

I'll keep it up.

Black Jack with the Reaper.

Look.
The cards.
Being shuffled, stacked, and handed out.
Each card like a small bet, a risk.
Making a swish as they scrape the table.
Like the ocean waves.
Only they are the cards of my life.


"Time to play black jack.", the Reaper says, smiling.
This time, it's a bet of my soul.

In the eyes of someone who's decided to leave, what is there to tell, what is there to hide?
A silent thunder; an infinite darkness.

Down the lane of my memories.

I walk in the rain, hiding my face.
Trying to wipe away the tears,
Wipe away the memories they are made of.
But alas, the past cannot be erased.
And the memories it holds, will never fade.

The sky mourns, so does my heart.
What is this pain?
A feeling that no one can describe?
Like a fire that never burnt;
A song never heard.

The world seems distant,
Like a dream when you are living it.
Reality becomes unreal.
Time runs out of time.

The world rotates about me,
Oblivious to my feelings.
But that is fine,
for loneliness is my way of life.

A heart impossible to enter,
A lie impossible to detect.
Eyes impossible to see through,
A soul impossible to enlighten.
Nothing, that is what I have become.

The rain stops.
So does the pain.
"You can get over it", a voice says.
A voice that still haunts me,
a past that I could have had.
How I regret it now,
I wish I could take it back.
But alas, the past cannot be erased.

In the abyss of darkness, I lay forgotten.
The time is gone now, the fire is out.
The flowers never bloomed, the sun never rose.
Nothing can change me now.
That is my Fate.

The Devil Smiles.

The petals dance through the wind.
The crimson blood shimmers on the snow.
The shattered heart weeps of hidden sorrow.
And over a pure white sky, rises a black moon.


The last one is THE best thing I ever came up with. Gonna post more. Hopefully.

I had a piece published once.

The Polymath.

Weep the Willowing Whisper Walks
A near felled pretty.
But can she take the dripple drop
of puffed up ocean me?
Hand me stick dear talking cane
And glossy boots not dry.
Weep the Willowing Whisper Walks
Beside her so may I.

As the sun sets I realise time is nearly up. I turn my hazel eyes to the almost blindingly snowy sky, and then back to the hard grey gravestone. I shiver -from cold or from fear?- and wrap my black jacket tighter around myself. I think I see a silver flash of a face behind a crumbling cross, but it is nothing. I begin to bite my lip nervously, drawing blood and getting lipstick on my teeth. My eyes flicker around the ancient graveyard. Then, I see him. Lounging on a nearby bench, the same evil sneer stretched across his face, exactly how I remember it. My face drains of colour and a whimper escapes my throat. He sees my reaction to his presense and frowns, a calculating look fleeting across his features. He gestures for me to come closer, but instead I shrink back.

Taken from my jotter, dated 12/11/10. It was a writing exercise in english. She wanted us to make a descriptive passage in around 5 minutes and this is what I ended up with.

My best piece of work was actually a dream journal entry of mine that I adapted to suit the exam and make more sense I got a 1 for it, which is the equivelent to an A

Spoon Man
There's a rock stuck in my ass, maybe I should walk the path instead. Am I disheveled? Maybe a bit eccentric, though the taste of silver is often copper so one can never tell with those measurements. I look to the sky and for a brief moment I feel peace. It was a strange kind of peace, the kind your body never wants to share with your mind; what a selfish bastard it is. Mushrooms feel this peace, but they smell funny and are infinitely unaware of how bad their jokes are so you cant trust those little fuckers, you know?

Christ, what the hell is that? A swarm of jellyfish perhaps, or maybe those are clouds. Either way they're shaped like a giant pair of tits, well I guess i'm going with clouds then. I'm not sure where i'm headed, maybe i'll just put this rock back in my ass and sit down for a little while, then again I don't really like things up my ass so I believe I'll go for a walk. Yes,i'm definitely convinced those are clouds now.

~FIN~

Sound
Where was I going this time, maybe in that direction but I must confess it looks like I've confessed already. Not much sense that way, perhaps I should turn around and head the other way, only I wasn't sure if I was asking myself a question or trying to make a point, either way I think I must have learned a valuable lesson while debating the merits of a coherent thought; don't do it.

My god man, just look at these people. They sound like wind trying to breath through a marble straw on the moon, it can't be done dammit. I notice something is not myself tonight, the same something that was me the other night but not nearly as buoyant as the one from last night, maybe I should just let it sink already. Jesus Christ these fuckers are loud, how the hell is a man to think with all these sounds?

-fin-

Haha, Raspberry, that was really nice.
My first language is not English, but I have a poetic way of writing my exercises. Got a A* in GCE English, and I thought my paper went bad. xD

Green havoc, you started with a shocker. There's a rock stuck in my ass, honestly. :O

But I like the presentation, though. ^^