Simon: You are my beautiful sister. River: I threw up on your bed. Simon: Yep. Definitely my sister.

'War Stories'


The Great Write Way, Act Three: Where's the gun?

A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.


sarameg - Apr 10, 2008 5:40:55 pm PDT #17 of 6626

OK, so a teenage me wrote this in 1991 after the death of my 90 year old grandpa, father of 6, the last of that generation, watching his kids interact. I don't attempt poetry any more, but I've got a collection from that time. But the "center" thing got me. So I'll abase myself:

The ties are broken
Center of the wheel
Unbolted.
The spokes should
Fly out.
Yet they don't.
Love binds them
Pain's grasp seizes them.
All together they withstand
They cannot be apart.
They will not forget.


SailAweigh - Apr 10, 2008 5:46:27 pm PDT #18 of 6626
Nana korobi, ya oki. (Fall down seven times, stand up eight.) ~Yuzuru Hanyu/Japanese proverb

sarameg, that is really beautiful. Thanks for sharing it.


sarameg - Apr 10, 2008 5:49:17 pm PDT #19 of 6626

Careful, you don't want me to inflict the rest of the 20 or 30 (I've not counted) poems from that era;) It was 15-19 or so.


sarameg - Apr 10, 2008 6:00:35 pm PDT #20 of 6626

Actually, it occurs to me I should start airing them for critique. I was so self conscious then, I shared them with no one. My parents read them, but they are biased.

I'm curious. We'll see, I probably haven't read them in a decade.


Susan W. - Apr 10, 2008 6:04:33 pm PDT #21 of 6626
Good Trouble and Righteous Fights

I like that, sarameg.


Susan W. - Apr 10, 2008 6:06:26 pm PDT #22 of 6626
Good Trouble and Righteous Fights

And a character piece, exploring one of my protagonists:

The general still rides as hard as any man in the army, but it’s been a year since he beat Jack at sword practice. Today he’s forty, the son of a father who never saw fifty. He has no house, no wife, no sons, nothing a man of his years should have--only an army that would fall apart without him.

He doesn’t lack for companionship. He has Jack for conversation, Margaret in his bed, though not as often as he’d like, and an army that marches at his whim. But he is alone. The center is a solitary point.


Amy - Apr 10, 2008 6:14:39 pm PDT #23 of 6626
Because books.

We're rocking the new thread! Awesome.

I have poetry like that, sarameg. It's handwritten in a folder somewhere (I think) and there are only two that I don't cringe to think about. I love poetry, but it's not my, uh, medium.

Post them, though! I love to read poetry.


Liese S. - Apr 10, 2008 6:23:24 pm PDT #24 of 6626
"Faded like the lilac, he thought."

How deeply amused am I that with the one thread we could kill with haiku and be on topic, we didn't? Deeply amused.

Great drabbles, though, all.

You should definitely post them, sarameg. I've got volumes and volumes from that age, probably quite horrid. But I always think one should share. Writing wants to be free!


Beverly - Apr 10, 2008 6:43:25 pm PDT #25 of 6626
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.

Writing wants to be free!

Next thread title!


Connie Neil - Apr 10, 2008 6:52:52 pm PDT #26 of 6626
brillig

"You can't take the text from me!"