sfsfdsf so you know when you have a very specific ~vibe ~, in your head, and exactly no plot to go with it? I had that and it somehow turned into this monstrosity which is a whole bunch of words and still only the barest shadow of a plot. not sure how I managed that but here we are
okay FIRST UP is thoughts on your thing, ninja!!
"part of Taine’s little separate life in Morrison’s that" is the apostrophe on morrison's a typo? is morrison the town name or something else i managed to miss?
the croissant bit made me snort, i loved it. also the fact that taine's thinking about this whole thing as something to win is such sibling behavior, coming from someone with three siblings lmao. iconic.
all in all i'm going 'awww' and waiting for you to share more, because i already love taine and ben's shaping up to be one of my favorite characters ever! i don't honestly know if i have much to actually critique because i think the whole point is that if this were to be built up as a story, all of my questions would be answered lmao
second is this lovely darling, titled love is, love does, and created for either an open mic or this year's ltab but who knows. critiques are welcome and appreciated, we all know how bad i am about deciding the first draft is enough. fun fact: it's part of an accidental series of mine called notes app poems which are simply poems written in my notes app with no correlating theme.
love carves my chest open
like a butcher knife.
tears my still-beating heart from
the safety of it's cage
and wrings it of everything it can give.
i don't really mind it,
most days.
there's something to the sacrifice,
something like martyrdom
in loving so much in a world
that wants to take that from you.
love can take my heart and break it,
rip it to shreds
and still i will thank it.
there is no better way to grow.
love bandages my wounds
and tells me it is proud of me
every time i get back up.
it carries my pain
with me,
sees me through to each end
and reminds me that there is something
worth fighting for.
that,
i think,
is something the world can never take from me.
no matter what is thrown.
love throws itself off my tongue
like i lost the meaning of it somewhere.
like i need to step back
and savor it,
revere it.
still,
i say the word four times a day
and i will never let myself forget
how it feels to love something.
the world needs it
and so i breathe it
into every room,
every heart.
i can't forget something
so important.
love saves the day
time and time again.
i owe it the healing of a broken heart,
the trading of one love for another;
my own,
my mother's,
my grandmother's.
at the end of the day
it is love that greets me at the front door,
it is love that raised me,
that saved me from myself.
i have called it so many people
that it is everywhere i look now,
and i find that
to be so wonderful.
ahh I'm so glad you like it!! you were right, the apostrophe was a typo. Morrisons is just the store they work at - it's a supermarket chain in the UK.
sfdsf I am,,, also waiting for me to share more right now. it's supremely unfair that telling a story involves actually having a story to tell instead of just. liking a few character dynamics a whole lot
but importantly!! your poem!!
first I really love the structure! breaking off single words for emphasis ("that" and "still") is really effective and leads very well into how one might speak it. content is fabulous as always (excellent points and excellent personification), beautifully laid out, very nicely worded
favourite lines: love throws itself off my tongue/ like i lost the meaning of it somewhere
If you want, I potentially see room for revision in two of the last lines (me, being pedantic about last lines? it's more likely than you think). For "no matter what is thrown", I noticed that it precedes the next line with "love throws itself". so the question here is if you want to save the "throw" for that line, or if it's alright to have them so close next to each other. it's not necessarily wrong, just a question of what's more effective. and idk, "and i find that/ to be so wonderful" is an absolutely valid way to end it! but I wonder if it might have more oomph to end on the last thought, of love being everywhere because you've called it so many people, rather than how you feel about it, if that makes sense? not necessarily cutting it off sooner, but developing that idea for another line or two and then ending on that note.
just some things to think about. either way, this was really lovely!! thanks so much!
I was wondering about that last bit too, so thank you! and oh shit I didn't notice the over use of thrown lmao, I might see what I can do about that
prompts!
music: Shape of my Heart (Sting)
image: "msd13" by Amir Zand
words: from "Ode to Elliot Smith, Ending in the First Snowfall of 2003" by Hanif Abdurraqib
& Kristen yells
all fortunes are liars at the sky & it answers back
with heavy white powder that licks
at the sidewalks & rests in our hair until we
are covered in this broken promise of stars & warmth
would you look at that, i'm alive
and i wrote something
ig i'm calling it 'Home'
so first of all Faye could step on me and I'd thank her
second of all. I. wow my heart??? ow? this hurt me but in a very aesthetic way. the characterisation is fabulous!! The slow buildup with little hints dropped about what it cost her and what the effect was? the bitterness that seeps through on every end?? the sentence structures?? the way it started out with Time and you're kind of wondering what the relevance is and then by the end it's like oh. OH. amazing.
favourite line: "may the stories they tell of us remain eternal"
one thing I noticed in the beginning is that the sentences will sometimes lose track of the subject? for example, in "It dictated what they did, day in and day out, but denied ever being out of control of themselves" the subject starts out being "it" (Time), but the last part sounds like it's about "they". idk if that makes sense but it makes it a bit difficult to keep up as a reader.
another thing I found interesting is that you started personifying Time halfway through, (at "but she sure loved the grieving")? which is cool! Is it deliberate that it doesn't start out that way?
but yeah. minor nitpicks, overall I am here for this on every possible level
prompts!
music: "Theodosia Reprise" by Sara Bareilles (from Hamilton)
image: "May - I'm free" by yeonji Rhee
& what if hope crashes through the door what if
that lasts a somersault?
hope for serendipity
even if a series of meals were all between us
even if the aeons lined up out
of order
what are years if not measured by trees
so first of all Faye could step on me and I'd thank her
sjfhakfg
second of all. I. wow my heart??? ow? this hurt me but in a very aesthetic way. the characterisation is fabulous!! The slow buildup with little hints dropped about what it cost her and what the effect was? the bitterness that seeps through on every end?? the sentence structures?? the way it started out with Time and you're kind of wondering what the relevance is and then by the end it's like oh. OH. amazing.
favourite line: "may the stories they tell of us remain eternal"
!!!! I'm very glad i managed to hurt you aesthetically lmao. the Time thing wasn't initially supposed to go the way it ended up, but i like it better this way than the initial set-up
one thing I noticed in the beginning is that the sentences will sometimes lose track of the subject? for example, in "It dictated what they did, day in and day out, but denied ever being out of control of themselves" the subject starts out being "it" (Time), but the last part sounds like it's about "they". idk if that makes sense but it makes it a bit difficult to keep up as a reader.
ah, yeah i can see what you're getting at. my main point for that was essentially comparing the contradicting ways people viewed time as a concept
another thing I found interesting is that you started personifying Time halfway through, (at "but she sure loved the grieving")? which is cool! Is it deliberate that it doesn't start out that way?
sort of! at the beginning it was a vague generalization, as i said above, encompassing the general human population. but then it starts narrowing down onto Faye's views, and she views Time as a deity (which is also a thing in my one story universe so I've gotten into the habit of doing that lmao), no matter how bitter she is towards Time
but yeah. minor nitpicks, overall I am here for this on every possible level
yay! thank you so much!!
Do you ever write a scene from the last book in your series before you've even written the first chapter of book one? Because that's what I just did and it's literally one of the sadder scenes in the whole series. So. Here you go (also some context so it makes sense lol) (the story is about the younger of the two Princes in the Tower, which is a fascinating time period in history, definitely recommend you research it if you're curious. I have a few books I can recommend if you want)
(Also Catherine is Richard's wife and she and Marie are in love, but she and Richard did do the do bc they had to to consummate the marriage. They're very close friends, just not in love. Richard and Henry are, but for obvious reasons of it's the 1490's, can't be together in public)
Context: Richard, Catherine, Marie, and Henry were captured by Henry VII. Richard was forced to “confess” to being Perkin Warbeck, an impostor. Catherine is one of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting, and Marie and Henry are her servants. Richard is to be executed as a traitor soon, and has been badly beaten in order to disfigure his face so that he is no longer recognizable as a Plantagenet. Henry has been allowed to visit Richard, in order to say goodbye.
The sound of the door unlocking was loud, and Henry stepped into the room that Richard was prisoner in. He had been thoroughly searched before being allowed in, and he knew Richard would likely be searched once he was gone, to make sure that Henry hadn’t passed anything to the other man.
“Richard.” he said softly. The room was of a goodly size, and resembled more a sparse guest room than a prison cell, but it was nonetheless obvious that Richard was not here for leisure. When the young man looked up, Henry breathed in a sharp gasp at the sight of his face.
Richard’s features were bruised and beaten, his nose crooked from being broken at least once. When Henry rushed forward, Richard flinched back from his closest friend and lover, and Henry felt like his heart was like to break at the sight.
“God’s wounds, what have they done to you?” he asked, hesitantly reaching to cup Richard’s cheeks in his hands.
Richard hesitated for a moment, before leaning into Henry’s hands. “They…the king ordered them to do this.” he finally said, and Henry’s heart throbbed at hearing the voice of the man he loved, so beaten and exhausted and worn-out. “He didn’t want…I look too much like my father and mine uncle. So he made sure no one would recognize me.” his left eye was clouded and unfocused, the mark beneath it not visible from the heavy bruising.
“Richard, this…” Henry closed his eyes for a moment. “My god, love. He…he ordered them to hurt you like this?”
“Yes.” Richard’s voice was quiet. “And…they all call me Perkin, or Warbeck, or…or garcon. You’re the first…you’re the only one that’s used my name in a year, Henry.”
“Richard.” Henry said his lover’s name again, knowing they both needed to hear it. “Richard, Richard, darling, this cannot…this cannot go on.”
“It will not. I…I’m to be hanged, Henry. He will not even grant me the dignity of beheading, as befits my rank. I’m to be hanged like a commoner. For treason.” Richard spat out the last word, disgust laced in his voice. “Treason, says the man who sits on my throne.”
“I’m sorry.” Henry said. “Are…are they going to draw and quarter you too?” he hoped not. He didn’t think he could stand that, if they were going to take his beautiful Richard and hang him, then cut his body up? Henry, Catherine, and Marie would be lucky if they got a body after a simple hanging, but if Richard was drawn and quartered there would be nothing left.
“No. I think…I think the concession to only hang me was for Elizabeth. His wife. My older sister.” Richard said slowly. “He will not behead me as he is going to behead Edward, Earl of Warwick, but he will not draw and quarter me.”
Henry nodded faintly. “I wish…”
“I know.”
They sat in silence for a long minute, absorbing each other’s company for perhaps the last time, Henry gently stroking his thumbs over Richard’s cheekbones, which had grown sharper in the year since they had seen each other last.
“How are Catherine and the baby?” Richard finally asked quietly.
Henry’s gaze fell. “I…they didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” the blonde prince’s voice sharpened with anxiety, his eyes searching Henry’s.
“Catherine…Catherine lost the baby, Richard.” Henry said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
Richard closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “They would not…they would not tell me. Not even the king. I begged…I begged for answers, I begged him to tell me what was going on with Catherine and the baby, and…and he wouldn’t…” the young man took a deep breath, seeming to steady himself. “Is…is Catherine alright?”
“She’s fine, Richard. We’re all worried about you, though.” Henry said gently, quietly, trying to summon a smile and mostly failing.
“I’m sorry. When…Henry, when I’m gone…I want all three of you to move on. Please. Don’t…don’t try and take revenge against King Henry, he’ll destroy you. I don’t want to see you join me in the afterlife for a good few more years yet, Henry my love. Find someone else. You are not mine, Henry.”
“Richard, you ask me to do the impossible, for I am yours. Until every last star in the sky goes dark, until all the swords in England turn to rust, until all the crowns rot into nothing, I am yours." Henry spoke softly, urgently, his hands gently cupping Richard's cheeks. "I am yours forever, Richard. I swear to you." he didn’t want Richard to tell him to abandon him, to forget him.
The emotions that flickered over Richard's bruised face were indescribable, and then he closed those blue eyes of his, and spoke. "And I am yours, Henry, for as long as you will have me, until the day I die."
Henry swallowed at the reminder that Richard's death was not as far off as he wished it were. “Even after, Richard. I am yours even after you die.” he breathed, leaning forward to brush his lips against Richard’s cheek.
“Even after.” Richard said softly. “If you insist that that is how it must be.”
Henry nodded a little. “I insist, Richard. I do.”
okay i dont THINK i've shared this one but tell me if im wrong
put me up on a stage and i will shake
and tremble
like a leaf in the wind.
like im fragile.
maybe i'll forget where i am and why
i'm looking into the faces of a crowd,
maybe i'll remember.
maybe thats scarier than forgetting;
putting yourself up in front of people,
displaying parts of yourself
even your family doesn't know.
put me up on a stage and i will submit myself
to the terror of being known.
with a few nervous tears i'll hand out my secrets
like party favors,
bare my soul to a room full of strangers
and i'll make it through.
step down off the stage and compare
the applause to every other round.
things don't always go bad or good,
sometimes they just go.
sometimes i take a deep breath and remember
to count each step as something.
put me on a stage and i will bloom.
adrenaline fueled confidence
lends strength to my words,
if you cant make it naturally
fake is fine.
i remember why i started,
i remember a highschool teacher
and a notebook full of half-scrawled poems.
days of 'note taking' to the tune of a documentary,
my mind half a world away and lost in the lines
of a poem.
i laugh and think
that its probably for the best that i dropped out.
i remember why im still writing,
why i put myself on a stage that makes me shake,
why i go through the motions of
'how close is too close' with an old mic,
the companion of
'wait, im not talking too loud, am i?'.
i remember my great grandmother,
the way a thousand no's were never enough to stop
the words in her mind.
my mother, poetry in her blood
and magic in her fingers,
using a broken heart to create.
i remember the feeling of home on a stage,
my notes app open
to a rough draft of whatever i forgot to edit last night.
forgetting the worry
like volume doesnt matter when you're lost in something like this.
the moment,
right in the middle,
where everything seems to fall into place.
put me on a stage and i'll fall in love
personally i dont like the first stanza that much. it seems kinda weak compared to everything else
I don't think you've shared that before, no! I love it tho!
oh good! and thank you ffghfgh
@Icefire
!! ooooh what a cool concept!! and honestly skipping ahead to the scene you want to write is a very big mood. on the one hand I'm glad because this was super cool to read! on the other hand it made me sad because wow. ow. why do you always have to come straight for my heart like this fdsklfs
I noticed initially that some of the language seems to be a bit old-timey, like "goodly" or "nonetheless" and "God's wounds", which is really cool!! committing to 1490s-all-the-way would be pretty intense and difficult to read so this is a nice compromise. (I gotta admit this time period is a bit earlier than most of what I study, I've read like,,, only Henryson and he's technically Scottish. so I'm not too sure about all the context here. but!! building off historical ideas is extremely cool and I'm 100% here for it)
so I guess that language choice is one thing to keep an eye on going forward - it's gotta be pretty consistently at the same level of old-timey for it to feel natural and internally coherent. not to say that it isn't right now, but it's definitely something to put on an editing checklist if this is a bigger project.
other than that, not much to note! maybe the second sentence is a bit long if I squint? and it might be fun to mix up the sentence beginnings if you want - having a few transition markers like and, as, but, then, because, when, after etc to connect sentences and thoughts can sometimes help improve the flow. but that's all up to what works best, and I think it does work really well as is. thanks so much for sharing!!
@croccin-champagne
!!!! very much here for this!! top tier concept, very nice repetition of "put me up on a stage" and "i remember", and an excellent last line that pulls everything together nicely.
favourite line: with a few nervous tears i'll hand out my secrets/ like party favors
and while I wouldn't call it weak necessarily, I do see what you mean about the first stanza! not 100% sure why, tbh - my initial thought was that it says "maybe" where the rest of the poem just says how it is? but that could also work with the overall vibe of rising confidence, as in you're becoming confident in what you're saying. so I don't really know if that's it?
another possibility is that the last 4 lines about "yourself" feel out of place when the rest of the poem is very much first person, but the general "you" does come up later here and there and that works fine. so yeah.
that was a lot of words to say I know what you mean but I can't really put my finger on it either lol. but I also think it's not the hugest deal and doesn't really detract from an otherwise very high quality poem.
thanks for sharing!!
prompts!!
music: "Superman" by Ivory Lane
—
image: "Bloom" by Jason Anderson
—
words: "Thought." by Alice Dunbar-Nelson
A swift, successive chain of things,
That flash, kaleidoscope-like, now in, now out,
Now straight, now eddying in wild rings,
No order, neither law, compels their moves,
But endless, constant, always swiftly roves.
@Icefire
!! ooooh what a cool concept!! and honestly skipping ahead to the scene you want to write is a very big mood. on the one hand I'm glad because this was super cool to read! on the other hand it made me sad because wow. ow. why do you always have to come straight for my heart like this fdsklfs
I noticed initially that some of the language seems to be a bit old-timey, like "goodly" or "nonetheless" and "God's wounds", which is really cool!! committing to 1490s-all-the-way would be pretty intense and difficult to read so this is a nice compromise. (I gotta admit this time period is a bit earlier than most of what I study, I've read like,,, only Henryson and he's technically Scottish. so I'm not too sure about all the context here. but!! building off historical ideas is extremely cool and I'm 100% here for it)
so I guess that language choice is one thing to keep an eye on going forward - it's gotta be pretty consistently at the same level of old-timey for it to feel natural and internally coherent. not to say that it isn't right now, but it's definitely something to put on an editing checklist if this is a bigger project.
other than that, not much to note! maybe the second sentence is a bit long if I squint? and it might be fun to mix up the sentence beginnings if you want - having a few transition markers like and, as, but, then, because, when, after etc to connect sentences and thoughts can sometimes help improve the flow. but that's all up to what works best, and I think it does work really well as is. thanks so much for sharing!
:D thank you!! Yeah I wanted to give the sort of old-timey ~vibe~ without actually writing like "forsooth, hve ye ben" blah blah blah which would have been incomprehensible lmao. But yeah this is like my favorite time period in history! (The end of the War of the Roses, and the Princes in the tower and oooooh it's my favorite historical mystery and time period and I love it)
I'll definitely keep that all in mind. Thank you!
tysm!!! this one and the love one are set to be used at write253's crossing the street event to preceed ltab on the 17-18th, so its nice to know theyre liked! i think i'll try reading it outloud a few times and see how that changes things!
Based on "Superman" by Ivory Lane
"You've changed…" I choked as my head sunk into my shoulders
He ground his cigarette on a pole before turning away and letting out a deep sigh. His eyes never grazed my presence
Why is he acting like this? Did I do something wrong? Am I so pathetic that not even he could save my sorry ass?
Here some excerpts from my picture thread (Shameless promo)
| "It feels so good when I scream!" Bum beamed
He let out a big smile while clutching on to the ride, The sunlight gently illuminated his skin, The wind blew his hair back as it flowed throughout the air, After all he went through, for once he looked like an innocent, happy child
| I swore I been here… Ugh A wave of nausea sweeps through me as I let out some dry heaves… Everything has some sort of blue film. The smooth seaweed green tiles produced a squeak noise whenever I staggered through the halls. The beige walls had the same bumpy texture, I ran my hands through the cracks just to make sure, I'm not dreaming. I finally reached the exit. The tiles had a stray brick red line in front of an entryway. Three black mats stood in front of the door. An orange traffic cone acted as a door opener for the grey doors. |
| Silence pierced the mall only being broken up by clicks from my shoes. My chest throbbed as my stomach turns to stone. The once packed and lively shops were abandoned and forsaken to time itself. The one that gutted me the most was the Toys R Us or To s "r" us judging from the lights, I can't believe they were even open, these things shut down about two years ago. I've never been here but I admired it from afar by magazines, watching commercials, and begging my mom to go. I wish I could at least run through the shop for the first and I guess last time |
| Darkness consumed everything, Everything but the checkboard path that stretch out to god knows where. The bloodshot eyes were watching me like the stench of rotting mushrooms suffocate me.
Everything's a lie….You're not real….Nothing is real… Wake echoed in my head like a broken record. My stomach crumbles at the sight. A sea of whispers cover me
| "You stupid bugger-headed dummy!" England shouted tugging on France's collar
"I see some things never change…" France quipped as the petal off his rose falls off. America was laughing his ass off in the background as he scarfed up a burger, while he kneed his cola.
"That stupid hoser…" Canada groaned as cola rained from above
China scanned the area clutching a frying pan, He flinched back at the absence of a certain scarf-wearing stalker
"Huh!? Where the hell did he go." He cried, unaware of Russia being behind him
Hi. It’s me. Sorry, again, for the prolonged absence, but I trust yall the most with my writing so,,,,,
I attempted a poem again, based on a book I just finished that kind of tore me apart. Enjoy, lmk what you think. Maybe you’ll be able to guess what the book was.
Tell me it was not love,
When his sentence to a life of torment
Lost to the devotion of a young heart.
When their souls twined with passion so ardent,
That any eyes could not tell them apart.
Tell me it was not love,
When down to the sea floor, the world shook with
Once, a rallying cry; now screaming grief.
When armies of men trained to bring him death,
Could now bring him nothing more than relief.
Tell me it was not love,
When a spirit once untouched by pain turned
Its sword not to honour, but to vengeance.
When a god denied what his name had earned,
Needing for his love to find acceptance.
Tell me it was not love,
When a lake and its god,
Were slaughtered by grief and,
When a quiver of his frame,
Would have set the world aflame.
Tell us it was not love,
When grace,
Became rage.
When duty.
Became empty.
Tell her it was not love.
The goddess who carved her son's tomb,
For a ghost who’d been left behind.
Who could bear the erasure of
HIs name but not, ever, of his love.
And here’s another thing, just bc. I really like the concept, so let’s see what you think of the execution :)
Whoever says Darkness repels never truly met her.
Darkness is a goddess, and goddesses attract. With spindly fingers she reaches for your smile, drawing it inch by inch from your bleeding lips until blood turns to tears and your smile to a sadness so great, Darkness revels in it.
Darkness kicks her robe from beneath her bare feet, her gravelly laugh filling the void she created. She empties you out, and fills you with secrets, and leaves you needing her as she dances out of sight.
Darkness turns away from you, shoulders rolled in, acting the prey. Give me life, she pleads, and you obey. Darkness is all you know. Is there nothing you wouldn’t give her?
Darkness is a temptress. She lures you onto a ledge, slick with rain, laughing at the skies with a wonder you yearn for, a wonder she has promised you. She comes to you, taking you in her arms.
Darkness is a dancer. Her grace is unparalleled, and as she sweeps you away, you lose yourself in the dull shine of her eyes. She whispers violence in that sweet song she sings so well, and how could you notice the earth has disappeared from beneath your feet.
Darkness holds you captive, in a silver world littered with jewels, glittering with the emotions Darkness sucked into her song. Look! she sings, presenting in her pale grasp the very jewels she stole from you. You laugh in delight and fall into her, into yourself, for what is Darkness but the slowing of your own heart?
Darkness lays your head in her lap, and you feel as though you’re falling. You’re dancing to her voice, suspended in the void, feeling the emptiness around you as a blessing. Only she matters now, master of your heart, present in every moment now and every moment to come.
Darkness is a liar. Only when you slip from her hold, can you finally see where she has taken you. Without her song to blind you, emptiness reigns. But without her lies empty is grave. Empty is you, totally alone, cut into pieces of heaving sobs and choking breaths and terror beyond comprehension. Empty is endless nights, drawn out with worry and cold and blood. Empty is what is left of you after her departure, after darkness is no longer beautiful and no longer fills you with a doctored wonder.
As the streets draw ever closer, and she disappears above you, empty is swallowed by release. Emotions and bones shatter and Darkness has done her work.
Darkness bids you a pleasant sleep.
Aaahaaa I love them both, especially the poem! Can I ask what book it's based on?? Bc I got a lot of Song of Achilles vibes but I might be wrong
@amber_is_a_starchild Nice work, especially the excerpt on Darkness
personally i slightly prefer the poem but thats because im a poet first and foremost. but i love both so much. the concept of the excerpt is so cool and the poem's repetition and format is written so eloquently. it really tugs at something. im not just not sure what. i kinda wanna know what inspired it now lmao. the only main critique is that
When down to the sea floor, the world shook with
Once, a rallying cry; now screaming grief.
is kinda confusing? the phrasing tripped me up a little is all
Aaahaaa I love them both, especially the poem! Can I ask what book it's based on?? Bc I got a lot of Song of Achilles vibes but I might be wrong
Thank you!!! Yes indeedy, that's the one, I finished it and cried and haven't been able to stop researching it for months now.
personally i slightly prefer the poem but thats because im a poet first and foremost. but i love both so much. the concept of the excerpt is so cool and the poem's repetition and format is written so eloquently. it really tugs at something. im not just not sure what. i kinda wanna know what inspired it now lmao. the only main critique is that
omg well ok that means a whole lot coming from you, I really want to work on my poetry and am going to do national poetry month so this is really encouraging!
When down to the sea floor, the world shook with
Once, a rallying cry; now screaming grief.
is kinda confusing? the phrasing tripped me up a little is all
I'm gonna be vague so as not to spoil, just in case, but basically 'he' is a soldier who encourages the other soldiers with said rallying cry, and then ~tragedy strikes~ and he's not rallying anymore, rather grieving through the screaming grief, so I guess what I was going for was, what was once encouraging battle cries is now his 'screaming grief'
The first line of that, about the sea floor, comes from the Iliad I believe, it's a famous part of that story