forum Virtual Creative Writing Club, anyone?
Started by @ninja_violinist
tune

people_alt 130 followers

@ElderGod-Icefire

Ooh thanks! Errm… I'm actually not sure. I think it's sorta in the middle. Like not perfectly apathetic, but not like….really angry either? Idk if that makes sense I'm exhausted lol

@ElderGod-Icefire

It does, don't worry! I was just making sure I wasn't too tired to feel the anger if you meant it to stand out. Thanks for clarifying, I really do love it

Alright. Thank you!!

I love this poem!! It allows me to understand your character better because of the pain I felt while reading this. This poem speaks to me and I cant figure out why, it is very well written

Ah thank you so much!! It…it actually wasn't written for Evander, but woah it really does fit him really well!! Glad it speaks to you (even if you don't know why lol), and thanks again!

@ElderGod-kirky group

Not inspired by anything, just a random idea I had. Uh, yeah, enjoy?

I opened my eyes for the very first time, and saw the bright and green world for all its magnificent glory. I clung to my mother, with my single stubby limb, curled in on myself and brand new. Help me, my precious child, her soft voice whispered through me, clear and crisp as the morning breeze. Yes, mama, I replied, and slowly stretched myself out to catch the trickling rays of sunlight to help my mother live.

Days and days passed by. My brothers and sisters helped out mother with unwavering loyalty. The hot sun we basked in did little to deter us. The occasional wind barely tried to knock us away from our tall and proud mother. I heard laughter and kisses, my mother groaning as a knife carved into her. I feared for her, but she did not fall. So I worked even harder to make her healthy and strong.

The days got colder, and my siblings started to fall. I was scared. Why were they leaving our strong and powerful mother? What did they have to fear? Go, little one, she called to me. I stubbornly held on, my stubby limb refusing to let go of her finger. Join your siblings. I said no, and continued to stretch myself out for my mother. She needed my help always, and I would not abandon her like the others.

Colder and colder, the wind grew howling. Still, I clung. Still, I held on. My soft and bright skin threatened to wither and brown; still, I held on. The wind promised to carry me to safety; still, I held on. I could hear my siblings, oh so far away. Their crackling laughter joining in with a child's game of run and hide; still, I held on. I grasped my mother's finger oh so tight, even as I was the last to remain. She coaxed me to go, to leave her and be happy for the rest of my days. I shook my head; still, I held on.

I grew weak and tired; my grasp loosened. My mother, my strong and loving mother, sung to me as I finally fell. The wind saw my fall and swept beneath me, gentling the ride and bringing me to someplace safe. There was a child and a mother, playing in a field. The colors all around us were so bright and vibrant. I loved the new sight, so different from the luscious green I was used to.

The grass embraced me, and I curled up against it. The child saw my gentle landing and raced over, grabbing my arm and shaking me around like a madman. My shouts of protest went unheard, but the instinct of a mother must be strong in this one, as the tall woman came over to her shrieking child—to me. Her fingers were so soft and kind as she took me from those grubby and choking ones, as if she knew just how fragile I was now. She turned me around, brushing those kind fingers over my face. Before I knew it, I was being carried off to someplace unknown.

I don't know how long I sat in this darkness, pressed between two sheets of white. I was forced to lay flat by the child, and then I could feel and see nothing but darkness and pressure, which a tint of white from all around me. My skin was now brown and black, but, thanks to the gentle mother, unscathed. I wanted to curl up again, to turn on my side and close my eyes. But I couldn't. I was stuck. I was forced to bear this fate of mine.

The light poured through, and the sheet of white above me was removed. I could see large green eyes peering down at me. The child. Then those hands, those kind and soft hands, coaxing the child away from me. The mother smiled down at me and softly sung a lullaby while she worked. I was moved into a cradle of wood; the scent reminded me of my mother. She was now holding something, but I couldn't see what. She placed the invisible thing over me, but it wasn't tight or restricting like before.

My cradle was moved, placed high above it all. The child, sitting upon the floor, watched as the kind mother put me high up in the air, where I belonged. Her smile was all I needed as I gazed down. Reassurance and pride. I was tall and proud, like my mother. I was worthy of being gazed upon. I was treated with the ultimate kindness, by this gentle woman.

My fate has been sealed, and I couldn't find anything worth changing.

How proud would my mother be of me?

@ElderGod-kirky group

lmao. I drop some hints but never explicitly say what the narrator is. People usually automatically make it human as opposed to something else, so I wanted to kinda flip the script a bit

@croccin-champagne

Incredible as always bro

So I started reading this book called Writing Poetry, by Barbara Drake, and it gives small like exercises and helps with inspiration, or tries to. But it worked for me and I have a bonus poem about my earliest memory now. It's short and choppy bcs I wrote it in math after finishing two quizzes, but
__________________________________________

The farthest back my mind can go
Isn't very far
Not usually, at the very least
But a bit of effort allows me to see
So many colors, each a new item
Round plastic balls
And an extra set of hands that accompanies them
They roll around the windowsill
Of a house with wood walls
Like me, they never seem to sit still
But on occasion do fall

@ninja_violinist

Just going to pop in and dump today's prompts on you all while I have time
hope you're having a nice day
feedback is on the way
—
The image (from the 2009 movie "The Secret of Kells", 11/10 absolutely stunning):

the music prompt (Oh Raven by Unlike Pluto):

the words: Excerpt from "Conscientious Objector" by Edna St. Vincent Millay (and yes I'm suddenly super into WWI poetry):

I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death;
I am not on his pay-roll.

I will not tell him the whereabout of my friends
nor of my enemies either.
Though he promise me much,
I will not map him the route to any man's door.
Am I a spy in the land of the living,
that I should deliver men to Death?
Brother, the password and the plans of our city
are safe with me; never through me Shall you be overcome.

@ninja_violinist

aaaand it's feedback time! There were lots of amazing entries this week! I'm glad people want to share their work here!

That being said, I have like half an hour to get this done right now so I'm sorry if this is very superficial!

@amber_demeter_misses_being_happy This is super interesting, especially the ending! I also loved the description and how I can get hints of what the narrator is like and the relationship with her brother.
Favourite line: the last one. I love how it's left open as to who gets stabbed (though I have my theories)
One thing I noticed is that there are a lot of "ing" constructions - like "watching", "slicing", "lifting", "meeting" etc. Which isn't an issue necessarily, since they have their purpose and they're important, but I think some of the things you're describing don't strictly have to happen simultaneously so it'd be okay to separate the actions and use a different conjugation (if that even makes sense lol)
Really well done though!

@Icefire This is really cool! Very strong characterisation, strong emotion, and I love the word choice ("silk and gossamer").
Favourite line: "I am/ Broken glass and swords/ Iron and winter"
(imagery is on point)
I'm not 100% sure about how effective the linebreak placement is sometimes - I'm not always sure what it's meant to be emphasising (for example "You made me/ This way"). And please take this with a bucket of salt grains, but the ending felt a tiny bit anticlimactic - a lot of the imagery throughout was subtle and open-ended, so the monster comparison feels a bit heavy-handed if that makes sense. Just a thought though - it definitely works well the way it is!

@Dances_with_Shadows-is-also-in-the-Cult Love the personification!! It took me way too long to understand it but it's super clever!
Favourite phrase: "crackling laughter"
Only thing I could possibly think of is that there's quite a bit of "telling" - I'm being told the significance of the leaf being in a wood frame or mounted up high when it might be more interesting to interpret that symbolism for myself? idk, make of that what you will
(I'm really grasping at straws here just to have something to say)

@crocssant-is-also-in-the-Cult should I be concerned about this cult thing lol This is so pure I love it!
And the bit of rhyme at the end works so well! (sill/still and walls/fall)
I wish I had something constructive to say
but all I can think of is that "wood walls" sounds a bit odd? Would "wooden walls" work?
(sorry this is so short)

anyway
thank you guys for sharing your work! It's so cool to see how people use the prompts in different ways, or just to get an insight into what everyone's already working on. And I really love how you've started to also give each other more specific feedback! The more opinions we read about our stuff, the better our understanding of how it comes across. That's what this chat is all about :)

@croccin-champagne

I am born of witches
I am born of girls, teens, barely women
Girls hung and drowned and crushed for daring to stand out amongst a bleary backdrop of gray
Girls who said no to a man and suffered at his hand and the hand of the law that was there to ‘protect’
Girls, who did not deserve to die
I am born of witches

I am born of survivors
Women who stared death in the face and said ‘you’ll take me someday, but that day is not today’
Women who’s bodies conspired against them, who’s own flesh tried to kill them
Who stood up and said ‘no. you won’t win’, and turned the tables
Of women with swords and women with pens
Used for the same thing, to fight
I am born of survivors

I am born of anger, a thirst for revenge so deep and consuming that it shouldn’t have been sideline-able
Of pain and suffering caused by people who should have been refuge from that exact thing
A hurt that ran deep, deep enough to affect every little thing, every action and reaction
I was born with anger

I was born of love
Not love from my mother to my father or vice versa, but love from my mother to me
Love that keeps me warm, by handing me a second-hand winter coat
An old coat but a coat nonetheless
Love, that puts a roof over my head and bandaids on my knees when I trip and fall
Because I inherited Love’s clumsy genes
Love, who does not yell back but who listens
Love, who knows what it’s like to feel unheard but saves her voice for when it matters most

I am born of pain and love and sorrow
Of anger and hurt and so many things it would take hours to list them standing here
But I am also born of hope
Born with stardust in my lungs and my mother’s blood in my veins
Born with the spirits and ghosts of the women before me standing behind and beside me

I am born with purpose
Purpose to right the wrongs that I can, to change the world in whatever way I can
To scream with all the voices that have guided me and come before me
And to pass them on
Maybe not to my own daughter, but to every woman I meet
Every woman with her own spirits and anger and her ancestors beside
To pass on hope

I am born of anger and hope.

(Have more yelling! This one is actually semi edited lmao)