Writing of the Fortnight: The First Story

Which piece is your favorite?

  • Benedicta et Damnatis

    Votes: 0 0.0%
  • Love

    Votes: 0 0.0%
  • From A Pagan Dream

    Votes: 0 0.0%

  • Total voters
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#1
The first voting for Writing of the Fortnight! Choose which of the three you like best, then put your vote up in the poll. Any commentary you can give our writers would be much appreciated.



Entry 1



Benedicta et Damnatis



Blessing at the verge of solitude

Crawling inside the magnitude

Howling on the middle of fortitude

For the souls that already departed



Hunger for the soulless body

Thirst for the savior

Summoned the aggressive behavior

In the living hell of water and sun



The world is smooth at the beginning

Yet, it crumbled and ruined in a short minutes

Love was shattered, city was demolished

The castles of their life are destroyed



Once the window of heaven is opened

The hand of His were giving out the blessing

As the powerless being were obstructed

The widow in black was whining



Will the sun rise once more?

Or it was damned to eternity by Him?

Forsaken by the Mighty One

Their spirits don’t drowned like the sun



So many losses yet so many gains

They dissolved and they reformed

They’re unknown yet well known

Benedictus maledicunt



As the bird flies by

Another wave of terror comes

Trying to rip their hope again

Yet, it failed once more



Their steps in that twilight are damned

Followed a speck of light

They began to get through the damnation

And running toward the blessing at the dawn



So many cares for them

Which make them smile inside the damnation

Yet, many exploited their condition

And make them cry upon his blessing



Losing the signature of the life

Frowned and drowned

Embedded by the piece of wasteland

Dwindled and wrinkled



Their life were fading away as the water splashed

Inside this solitude they fell on their knees

Closing their eyes and clenched their hands

Pray for the blessing toward their beloved kingdom



Pray for Kingdom of the Sun







Entry 2

The snow was thick on the grass, and as he stood and watched on, she drifted about, staring at the white expanse in wonder, looking up at the flakes of snow falling softly onto her face. Using her hands, covered by mittens, she scooped a handful of snow, throwing it in the air and laughing in delight as the cold flakes touched the bare skin of her face and neck. Watching in the distance, he was amazed by her beauty.



He could hear a relaxing piano melody playing from the diner beside the park. It seemed to echo her movements, weaving about the notes playfully as she waved her arms in the air. As the clouds drifted in the sky, he felt a breeze blow. She felt it too, and recoiled in cold. She turned to him, waving.



"Hey, I'm getting tired!" she called out.



"Let's find a seat, then," he replied.



They found a bench in the middle of the park, covered in snow. He used his hands to sweep the snow away, and she sat down. They both looked around, enjoying the winter scenery. She stretched out her hands and sighed, looking at her breath mist in the cold air.



"Winter is so beautiful," she mused aloud.



"It sure is," he concurred.



"I wish it could last forever," she continued wistfully.



He put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry," he reassured her. "It can last forever."



"How?"



He was stuck trying to find a decent answer, and when she realized this she chuckled.



"You're always like that, answering without thinking first," she remarked.



"I am?"



"Yeah," she replied, and she took his hand on her shoulder and placed it on her cheek. He could feel the roughness of her face through the cotton of his mittens.



"Your hand's so warm..." she said dreamily. "Do you remember the first time we met?"



"How could I forget?"



"Yeah. I remember it like it was yesterday."



"Well, it wasn't too long ago."



"Oh, you flatter me."



She looked up at the white sky, still grasping his hand on her cheek.



"When I saw you, I knew you'd be different," she said out loud.



"Different? How so?"



"Well, I had a... different... feeling about you, like you were special."



"What a cliche."



She giggled. "I was attracted to you then."



"You were? How?" he asked.



"Do I have to make myself any clearer than that?" she questioned in playful exasperation.



"Well, it helps to clarify things."



"Okay, then," she said, turning to face him. Their faces were close, almost touching, and he could see his reflection in her large eyes bordered by crow feet. She held up his wrinkled hands in hers.



"I love you," she said clearly.



"It's been fifty years," he said gladly, feeling a single tear drip down his eye. He ran his hand through her white hair, once a vibrant brown, and she found solace in his touch. She looked at him again, tears streaming down her cheeks.



“You don't need to be so emotional,” he commented with a grin.



“I know...” she said, wiping the tears away. “It's just... I'm so happy we've gone through this together.”



“Me too.”



He held her shoulders, and they shared a tender kiss, two old people sitting on a bench in a park, just like teenagers. He stopped, and saw that her face was vibrant again. He smiled.



“Happy golden anniversary, my dear wife.”



Entry 3



From a pagan dream



There are many things I have said,

Many more I want to say,

But is not what I meant,

They spill out from my mouth



I crave for pardon,

But I don’t receive it,

I ask for forgiveness,

But I don’t deserve it



All of this,

Just starts to see,

As if it was emerged,

From a pagan dream



I try to speak out,

When I say “go away”,

What I really mean,

Is “come here please”



I am just driven by impulse,

Driven out to fear,

But I just feel this are,

Illusions from a pagan dream



Someday I’ll ask forgiveness,

But for now I just think,

How to ask for it,

How to fix what I’ve done



I am a pacifist humble,

Driven by dragon might,

Wanting to become a knight,

That could pay you back



Your kindness; so good,

But why are you so good?

What have I done?

Is this a reflection coming from a pagan dream?



I guess I’ll torture myself,

All day; all night,

Till the day I am brave enough,

To say “I’m sorry”; to ask you out
 

Emeralda

Pistis Sophia
#2
First one is a nightmare for literary theory students. Metres and line lengths vary too much from line to line, so it's hard to focus. I'd say it might be a free verse, but seeing how the author was trying to intentionally create rhymes, I don't think it was their intention. Let's check the first stanza, which is usually the most important one:



AAAB



Ok, now the number of sylables.



9 8 10 9



And lets compare it with other stanzas:



AAAB ABBC ABCD ABAB



Oh wow, and that was improvising, because if I were to do it properly, there wouldn't be any proper rhymes. There are no fixed feet and the number of feet in a line is random as well. Not to mention the awkward use of punctuation. There is no fixed meter or rhyme, but it's not a Free Verse either, since even that follows rules. I'm also hesitant to call this a ballad. The use of a latin word as title screams "look, I'm fancy, read me." No.



In conclusion, it's the ambition to make this into an elaborate work of art that killed this "poem." Overly big ambitions are never worth it.







Second one, a nice lovely dovely lovestory. I seriously can't complain about it, it's really nice and simple, though you have a sense of their feelings there.







Third one is close to a proper free verse, but the intentions don't seem to strive for being anything epic. I'm not sure, but I think the author was having quite a lot of fun with making it, altough I'm still put back by the choice of rhymes in some places.









Well, No#2 Love gets my vote.
 

Jimzy

Active Member
#3
I vote for No.1~

I'm a member of Anti-Emmie Party that's why. Lulz. Juz kidding~



Well, I chose it because I'm not yet through reading all the entries. I only finished the first entry. And I feel like I dun wanna read anymore.



Why?



It's because the theme of the first poem seems to be very intentional.



Japan - Prayers for those who died and those who are continuing their journeys.

Very intentional. Yet, I feel like the one who made this is a Pinoy. O.O' Am I right? xD

 
#4
I'm voting for #1. It has this kind of vibe to it, like it could be told by some old wise guy to other people. The use of words is enigmatic and leaves the reader pondering.

 

HappyNisa

Super Moderator
Staff member
#5
Hmm well the first one and third one simply aren't the style I like to read, to be honest a poem really has to be a bit familiar to me to actually make me understand them and therefore like them, and I feel no connection to either number 1 or number 3. So my vote is for number 2



I hav to say that I like the use of Latin in the first poem though but Emeralda is right that it screams look how smart/fancy I am xD but then again that's exactly what ancient greek and latin writers of poems did XD ahahah they wanna show how smart they were aswell, so I still like the way its written and ofcourse the subject is very nice :)



Number 3 has some heavy emotions in it they like drip of them but I dont really understand it >.< probably coz I don't know what a pandan dream is ahah xD eventhough I don't know that I feel like I can feel the emotions of the writer but as I can't really comprehend that it's like reading someone's else's pain >.< and I no like to do that, overall I still think its very well-written but yeah just not my style .___.



Number 2 really misses a title but I love the fact that the lovers were in the end old people that still love eachtoer ahah i cant imagine anything more romantic then 2 old people that still love eachtoher through the years ^^ Besides that I like the plot this kind of writing is more to what I like to read no heavy stuff no akward words coz of the rhyme nor words that have so many meanings that the whole poem could be interprented in a lot of ways, just simply directly to the point writing ;)



Yup number 2 has my vote :)
 
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