Writing Practice?

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"masterdieff" wrote:

I like to play with words like that too when I write poetry. I like counting the syllables, rhyming, having secret codes... I have some schizotypal traits too.



The good thing about poetry is that you create your own rules.


Very cool. Great imagery and rhyming. Here is a test now. Try to rewrite this by having 5 words for each line.

You don't have to do this of course, but I'd like to watch you sculpt it.

I appreciate the challenge. Now that it's not a requirement for school, a test sounds fun. Do you mean to actually rewrite the poem I already did, or to make a new one out of the words, this time using five words per line?

Also, do you mean 5 words or 5 syllables?

5 syllables. Yes, I want you to keep the same poem. I think it's really good.

I seek to relax.
Free my mind from tax.
Headache- level three!
The remedy: tea.

My feelings are glass,
so don't be so crass.
You'll shatter my soul
like some china bowl.

Don't flex your power.
Don't give a glower.
Just live life at ease,
pretty young flower.

That is so nice. Great poem.

Did you like doing that?

Hey, we still need to finish Miss C's story. I'll think about it tomorrow after I get some sleep.

Thanks a whole lot. There have only been a few times in my life that I've written poetry, usually under a great deal of stress (both positive and negative) and only for myself. So, this is really the first time I've ever gotten feedback. I can't say how much it means to hear somebody say that.



If I didn't, it wouldn't be poetry.

Lemme give this a shot hmmm...

They tell me I should relax
The glass is half full they all say
Add sugar to your tea why must it be so bitter?
Stop and look at the flowers they're beautiful

How I wish they would all just mind they're own business

If i want to drink it bitter that's my choice
To drink what is bitter is to appreciate what is sweet even more
That's why I threw away the sugar bowl long ago
My glass is broken for if it holds nothing it cant be spilled

Well, it is good. Looking at it again, I think you were right the first time in making the sentences longer. 5 syllables across is a little short. 10 is perfect! Can you add a few more lines?

Depressing, but honest...It is annoying when people tell me to smile so, I know how that feels. Your bowl is broken, hmm...Can you fix it?

Relaxed, he sipped his tea from a blue china bowl; it was decorated with little blue flowers. Tough guy drinking tea from a floral cup. What a joke. Like a new man, he felt free.
It was becoming more common for him to act out of character as his old self had vanished. Where had he gone he wondered. Somehow, his old self died when his wife was stricken with cancer.

All those years, he had never known love as it is now. His dead wife's sister had taken him in now. He always did have a thing for her. His concentration was broken when the waitress came by with a bowl of cream of mushroom soup. He glared at her from behind his sunglasses. She took too long again.

I'm trying to establish his character. Does anyone want to add some character to the waitress, dead wife, or sister in law?

the whole point of the piece is that I don't want to change. The bowl being broken represents giving up on getting better. The glass is broken to represent feeling nothing to avoid feeling bad, walling oneself in so no one can reach you to make you feel better or worse.
This was inspired by the last few years of my life during which I have lost so many of my friends to enlistment in the military, incarceration in the state penitentiary, and becoming fathers. After my friend's who are in prison went off and my best friend had a kid and had to stop going out an doin crazy irresponsible s**t with the rest of us I just sort of started shutting a lot of other people out. I can remember my sister asking me one day why i cant just be happy to which I replied that I'm not unhappy I'm numb.
But to answer your question perhaps in time i may seek out the bowl where it lay in the dumpster. until then feeling nothing is comfortable enough.

Ill take a shot in the dark at his wife's sister. since that's the place I usually come from... but If the author doesn't like my addition ill remove it all

Relaxed, he sipped his tea from a blue china bowl; it was decorated with little blue flowers. Tough guy drinking tea from a floral cup. What a joke. Like a new man, he felt free.
It was becoming more common for him to act out of character as his old self had vanished. Where had he gone he wondered. Somehow, his old self died when his wife was stricken with cancer.

All those years, he had never known love as it is now. His dead wife's sister had taken him in now. He always did have a thing for her. His concentration was broken when the waitress came by with a bowl of cream of mushroom soup. He glared at her from behind his sunglasses. She took too long again.

Later at the home of his sister in law he sat in the dimly lit living room staring off into nothing. The cheroot burned slow between his fingers and the smoke danced gracefully from the ember to the ceiling. His wife's sister entered and sat down next to him on the cheap looking floral pattern couch. It was obvious she only wanted to help but her every utterance no matter how insignificant took his mind back down what had become an all too familiar path to a fresh grave site with roses laid upon the earth. She was simply too much like his love. Her speech, her knee knocked stride, she even had the same eyes. Her attempts at providing comfort wrought nothing but agony inside of him. She was an apparition of her sister mocking his loss, a poor substitute for the real deal always disappoints but when dealing with an issue of this magnitude, an issue of love lost forever, disappointment is too weak a word to describe how he felt. But like her sister she was a saint, selfless in every action she gave her soul to him entirely but it was like giving water to an alcoholic desperate for a buzz.

feel free to edit this to be more concise I have trouble being direct an i tend to say too much.

We need to blend it all together better. My writing needs to be tweaked. Feel free to edit my words. I'll get back to this later.