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> DY's Works, Here goes...
Dark Yuna
post Sep 14 2007, 05:50 PM
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Thanks both of you smile.gif Muchly appreciated *thumbs up*

Will post more, hopefully in the next week. Might write a sonnet! o_O


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Kira Lee
post Sep 22 2007, 06:31 AM
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pokemon rocks yo' mom.
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Ok!

When you get on again, you need to post!

Can't wait to see moreeee.


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Dark Yuna
post Sep 26 2007, 06:21 PM
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^ Your anticipation is overwhelming XD

Poem 6 - Dilemma - I found this one on my computer, which I wrote in June, but forgot about it. As I couldn't remember the direct theme of the poem, I named it 'Dilemma'. It's about a person questioning their dreams, and love (which I seem to focus on a lot). Here goes...

Why is it that when I think of my past,
I think of you, floating in my memories,
Feather-light and as pure as snow,
Flying into the sun, so bright
Like the burning passion I see in your eyes,
Holding me still, like stone, restricted
Yet free from the rest of the world,
Shielding me from sight?

Why is it that when I think of my life,
I think of you, sharing with me
Your feelings, emotions,
And childhood fears,
Like I mean everything to you,
Accepting the truths
And the lies in between
Making your troubles disappear?

Why is it that when I think of my future,
I think of you, falling from the sky
A gift from above, a message, a sign
That you are special to me,
Like a guardian angel, always there
Protecting me, like a child
In need of love and affection
Pouring out your heart?

Why is it that when I think of my dreams,
I see you, standing before me?


Poem 7 - Chronicle - This is about someone delving through their memories, to draw on his/her past experiences with their partner. I have used a rhyming couplet structure. I wrote this yesterday in about 45 minutes, and I hope you enjoy it.

Remember the day when we first met,
Under the shining moon, the flaming stars,
The blinking blanket in the sky?
Where we lay on the bask of roses,
Covered in the sparkling dewdrops,
Away from the world,
Holding on to you,
My thread of happiness.

Remember the day when we became one,
In the heat of the blazing sun,
As we declared our love?
Where our dreams soared like a dove,
Up in to the sky, our dreams took flight,
From the break of dawn, to the dead of night,
I was elated, euphoric, in fact,
We are together still, and that is that.

Remember the day when I wrote you a song,
The one you would sing all day long,
Without a single care?
I would listen to you; I would always be there,
To protect you from harm, from all of your fears,
To comfort you always, to wipe off your tears,
If the dreamland above is eternal bliss,
Then Heaven does not even compare to this.


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NervPoison
post Sep 26 2007, 06:52 PM
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I like the second one better, but they're both great (as usual). smile.gif


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Dark Yuna
post Sep 26 2007, 06:54 PM
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Thanks, NP! Your feedback is appreciated, as always smile.gif (I like the second one better, too).

I've noticed that I have a thing for having 3 stanzas...hmm o_O


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CREA
post Sep 29 2007, 05:21 PM
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I like the second better as well, although I do love the last line of "Dilemma".

QUOTE
Why is it that when I think of my dreams,
I see you, standing before me?


Ah... I love it.
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pixie~
post Oct 27 2007, 01:53 PM
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MOSH IT!


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wow,well done DY. i've only ever read lies and paradise before but they are all really good.keep going


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Dark Yuna
post Nov 8 2007, 08:13 PM
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Descriptive Writing - Victory Hill - This was originally something that I wrote for school, but I thought that I would share it here. It is a VERY dark insight to a school, full of twisted teachers bent on 'torturing' the children. Here goes:

The school on Victory Hill is much like a zoo; or a high street; or a workplace; or a convention; or a festival. It is bustling; busy; noisy; nostalgic; populated; pretty; a collection and a crowded place; large and little; grubby and gracious; terrific yet terrifying. It is a story told in silence, a forgotten memory, the expected, unpredictable twist at the end of a movie, there and yet not there, an eternal paradox. Leaves that never touch ground hang on to the arms of Mother Nature, waiting for her final breath to whisk them away; saplings that thirst for water that never falls, yearning for more sacred life; soil that knows no life, only awoken by the sapling's cries, hoping to bring them to life. Even the name 'Victory Hill' is a lie - no event of grandeur has ever occured in this dire, evil place.

No-one comes here anymore, they are too afraid of the scent of destruction and the screams of a thousand children to tidy up what's left of the school. Back then, hundreds upon hundreds of schoolboys and schoolgirls arrived at the gates of Victory Hill to broaden their minds, to learn about things that they had never thought possible, to obtain information about the world they live in. Looking past the pupils' perfect disguises, there were children desperately yearning to go home, secretly wishing they were anywhere but here, and yet the teachers didn't care. They swooped on every pupil like moths to the flame, always watching, as sneaky as slithering snakes, waiting for the open opportunity to strike, and strike again, teaching them not to love, but how to choose the path which has been chosen for them; the road to madness.

At the start of the day, the teachers gather in the serpent's nest, plotting their next move to conquer the human mind. They sneak into the school, or so it seems, and enter as silently as the grave. Next, the advisors walk briskly into the burrow, ready to manipulate the vulnerable; to control the uncontrolled minds of the desperate children, as poison to the little princes and princesses in the fairy tales, yet in this case, they do not recover. The cowering children then fly to the falcon's wing, unaware of the danger they are sheltered in, group by group, leaving no-one alone under the gleaming eye of the sneaky staff. Finally, the Devil himself creeps into the crowd, poised, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting prey as they continue with their lives. This chaos and deceit always occurs on every single, independent day, under the watch of the eye of Heaven; the inferno in the sky; the blazing Sun - never had a cloud crossed its path until that fateful day.

At the hour of freedom, the lunch-time play, the children sing and chant little playground songs, and yet all we hear are cries of help; screams of true terror, unlike in their little games. When they laugh, they cry; when they smile, they frown; and when they pray, they beg. The teachers then return to the nest, seemingly unaware of the chaos outside, all dressed in black suits, as if the playground were a funeral session, with charming smile disguising the sinister sneers within; calculating the next method of psychological torture to be tested on the innocent, sheepish children in their flock. During this time, the Devil, the mastermind, the Headmaster spins his web of lies; his wheel of torture, and controls every single, tiny, small, miniscule detail of his collective chambers, as power-hungry as he was the day he learned of power; a modern-day Hitler figure, bent on choking everything so that he obtained control.

At the end of the school hours, the teachers show their only sign of compassion, by letting the pupils go back to their families, but only to whisk them back to the camp the next day, within the teacher's concentration, and in their evil, scope-like vision. The shepherd lets go of his flock, yet his loyal dogs always return them to his twisted grasp. He never leaves the children, as he haunts them in their sleep, tormenting them eternally, so that they weaken bit-by-bit every day before the twigs in their minds begin to snap. The pupils sprint through the school gates, free from captivity, yet never detatched from the Headmaster's chains. The childrens' first true feelings erupt into euphoria as they charge from the building, all the way home, as reckless drivers in road rage, where time is of the essence. No-one tidies up the school - it always stays as it did when the students left, to remind them that nothing will ever change here. No-one can clean up the scars in the minds of the innocent - they cling like parasites. No-one can save them - for no-one is left.

The details of the Victory Hill Tragedy cannot be taken lightly - it is like the weight of a single feather against the weight of deaths - it is overpowering. It is a gruesome tale to scare even the bravest human beings, like the tales of the Bogeyman, always haunting you. It is the diary of a modern-day Anne Frank - the facts from the tortured mind of a 13-year-old girl, terrified beyond belief, exposed to unthinkable horrors. Instead of leading your mind deep into the hollow, perhaps I should just begin the story by opening the page, and letting the stories crawl in by themselves...


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NervPoison
post Nov 9 2007, 04:31 PM
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This looks very promising. smile.gif
I've played Rule of Rose and liked it a lot, so I'm very interested in this concept too.


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pixie~
post Nov 10 2007, 07:47 PM
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So this is the famous creative writing.If this is the one that you entered then i can see why Mrs Catt liked it..very well done,,,like wow, i might see if mrs can photocopy mine so i can upload it..well done DY


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fierytempest
post Nov 13 2007, 01:39 AM
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Very interesting, JtR.
So there will be more? I certainly hope so.

You use pretty words. xD


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I am done with my graceless heart
So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart
I like to keep my issue drawn
It's always darkest before the dawn

Xii<3
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Dark Yuna
post Nov 18 2007, 03:16 PM
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Thanks for the feedback, guys. I might continue it and make a little story of it, if I stop getting this bloody error message.

Is there a limit to the number of characters (letters/numbers) you can have in one post?


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fierytempest
post Nov 18 2007, 04:27 PM
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^Yes, so you might want to try splitting it in half or such.


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I am done with my graceless heart
So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart
I like to keep my issue drawn
It's always darkest before the dawn

Xii<3
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Dark Yuna
post Nov 21 2007, 09:42 PM
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^ Oh right! Thank you! smile.gif

New poem!

Poem 8 - Distance (Fall For You) - Inspired by someone (not saying who...unless you can work it out wink.gif) It's based of the oh-so-common theme found in my poems...love. Took me a while to come up with some lines, so I probably spent about an hour and a half, total, over a few days, on this poem. Enjoy.

The sun shines down on your clouded face,
Picking you out from a crowded place,
Single. Indidivual. Unique.
I'll go to the deepest depths and the highest peaks
For a chance to see you smile.

In the flickering candlelight, your eyes shine,
Hiding a passion burning inside.
Your soft lips curl, and become inviting,
As I break our cages, no longer dividing
Our only desire; being together at last.

Silky, dark hair runs down your spine,
Complementing your hazel eyes boring deep into mine.
How I wish I could see you; not just in my dreams,
But in out own little world, with beaches and streams,
With no ocean that keeps us apart.

To hear your voice would be like birdsong in spring,
A voice that can whisper; a voice that can sing,
I hear you calling me, I whisper your name,
It follows the wind, it falls with the rain
Onto your tender skin; smooth to the touch.

Pressing your lips to mine, I savour the taste,
As you give me your love, leaving none to waste,
For I would die for it all, or even just a drop
Of your undying affection, raising me to the top:
It is here that I fall for you.


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fierytempest
post Nov 21 2007, 09:50 PM
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OMG IT'S ABOUT ME!!!
xD


But really, that's a beautiful poem, DY. Like, it would make any girl fall in love with you.


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I am done with my graceless heart
So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart
I like to keep my issue drawn
It's always darkest before the dawn

Xii<3
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Kira Lee
post Nov 21 2007, 10:11 PM
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pokemon rocks yo' mom.
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My favorite.

Very, very beautiful.


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CREA
post Nov 22 2007, 11:40 PM
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Very... sweet!

I like it.
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NervPoison
post Nov 23 2007, 02:05 PM
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Same here. smile.gif
Great one.


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Dark Yuna
post Dec 7 2007, 11:06 AM
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Thanks for the feedback smile.gif

QUOTE
But really, that's a beautiful poem, DY. Like, it would make any girl fall in love with you.

Oh really? Hmm...*adds to list of seduction techniques*

Descriptive Writing 2 - A Nightmare World - This piece of writing was, once again, for school. It was a piece which I had written for part of my English Literature examination, where one of the options for the 'original writing' section was to 'describe a nightmare world'. Of course, the concept of the world itself was up to us - we could fit it into a dream, we could make it reality, or we could add an emotional spin, stating that a nightmare world would be without a lover. This last idea would have appealed greatly to me, if the idea had come to me during the exam, which it did not. So, after thought, I decided to write the following:

A Nightmare World

Silence echoes throughout the hollow walls of a world built like a cage - the only sound is the screams of your mind, or the final breath of another human being. Dark shadows lay still in the night, running at the sight of the full moon, once exposed in the starless sky. The silence is broken by a chilling howl, as an inhuman silhouette often appears in front of the bright moon, howling - a symbol of darkness blocking the only beacon of hope left for humanity. The wind howls back, the harsh, cold gusts seem to erode the skin and chill the bone; always present, never gone. While the gales continue, the dead trees lay motionless; no leaves to decorate its bone-like structure; nothing is there to protect the natural anymore. Dark, thick clouds block the moon again, shrouding the world in a cloak of darkness; blocking off the only light left.

Dire noises begin to unhinge the secure human mind, driving the remnants of mankind into insanity; wiping out the once-glorious race of humanity under the permanent midnight sky. Thump. Thump. Thump. The sounds of heavy objects hit the cold, harsh ground; whether the sounds belong to a dark creature, or another corpse, is impossible to tell. The world is like a fortress now - impossible to break into, and impossible to break out. Every room is a torture chamber, with all manner of twisted implements spread out across the fresh crimson floors.

You scream and you scream, but to no avail. You are hopeless now; restricted and alonein a realm of torment and anguish. Your skin is like stone - cold, heavy, and grey; wrapped tightly around your weak muscles and your brittle bones. Your senses are hindered to great effect; you cannot see with your bloodshot eyes, attempting to penetrate the darkness of the world. You cannot smell with your greying nose, except the stench of death around you. You cannot taste with your dying tongue, besides the blood trickling down your throat. You cannot hear anything except for the howls at the full moon with your feeble ears. You cannot hold on to your hope any longer with your withered hands.

The door to your cage now opens, giving back your hope of freedom - no longer constricted within cold, harsh steel bars. Dragging yourself across the crimson floor, and staining your emaciated body, you crawl towards the moon; the beacon of hope, but this world is misleading. You reach for the bolt on the gate leading outside to the dead wastelands beyond, and hear the screeching of the rusty bars opening for you, as you crawl out into the darkened world of your own personal hell...

********************************************************

Poem 9 - Basic Instinct - Due to a lack of inspiration, I wrote a random poem about a rather common human impulse. It's really not difficult to work out, but I was bored after school, and I had a strange need to write something.

It's a funny feeling,
When your heart pounds against your chest,
Begging for freedom,
Into your open arms.

What makes such an emotion disappear?
The kisses, the cuddles, they mean nothing anymore.
Hollow words and tainted truths reach these lips,
Pleading for salvation from corrupted kisses
Echoing under midnight skies.

This love is an illusion,
A twisted lie shrouding the basic instincts
Of our shallow minds.
Obeying an impulse of human nature,
Weak and helpless, we give in,
And satisfy our ever-constant lustful hearts.

We wake at silent sunrises,
And we turn to our side,
Facing a stranger with tear-filled eyes.
They thought they meant something,
A queen by a king's side, and yet
They are merely a pawn in your secret games,
Where cheaters never prosper.

There is no forgiveness
For throwing a heart away.
As every moon rises, she cries for you.
Hopeless and betrayed, she dies for you,
A little more each day,
Her faith is lost in you,
Yet the shadow of her love remains,
Praying for you to return.


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NervPoison
post Dec 7 2007, 11:12 AM
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Nice work, Dark Yuna! Basic Instinct expresses horrifyingly humane urges and your descriptive writing was frightening but very well-written.


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