creative writers ❄️ discussion

Bea, tell me if u want this folder deleted and I will !! 🫶🏻

here is a little poem i wrote for creative writing class! it's supposed to be a ballad for/about vincent van gogh.

The Night is More Alive

Upon a hill, where golden sun doth shine,
I stand, beset by thoughts both grim and fine.
The brush in hand, I seek to paint the light,
Yet shadows weigh my soul in endless night.
The colors bold, they speak to me alone,
Yet sorrow marks the work that I have sown.
O how the wheat beneath the sky so wide,
Reminds me of the peace I cannot find.
I see the trees, their branches deep and vast,
Yet through my mind, a storm doth rage and blast.
I long to capture all that nature brings,
But darkness twists the joy that beauty sings.
The stars above, they shimmer with such grace,
Yet in my heart, I know not their embrace.
Though flowers bloom, I see them through a veil,
A hue of grief doth paint my soul so pale.
I yearn for peace, yet find it far away,
In every stroke, my sadness must decay.
And though I paint with all the strength I’ve got,
The shadows in my heart can’t be forgot.
But still, I strive, for art is my refrain,
Through all my sorrow, I shall yet remain.

Whew

i'm not rlly sure where to post this but the spacing kinda looks like a poem, so i'll post it here!

xx

~~

The Fall Of Icarus

They knew this would happen. It had to. They always said it would. Don’t fly too high, the sun will melt your wings. But they don’t understand. They will never understand the feeling of flying free, so far above everyone else. So…

Free

It’s amazing up here. The sun is like a lover, pulling me up

Up

Up

The world below is so meaningless, the people so insignificant. They’re nothing compared to me now. I’m untouchable.
Untouchable.

There’s nothing holding me back.

No- no. Focus. I need to focus. The wings…

The wings are fine

I’m fine. I’m strong.

Why did they ever doubt me? Why did they try to tie me down? They thought I was weak, that I was human. But look at me now, soaring like a god. Higher than anyone’s ever been. Higher than anyone could ever go. They’ll remember me. They’ll look up and wonder how I did it. How I flew. How I—

The sun

It’s too bright… it’s burning. My wings, they’re melting! I can feel it, Oh god I can feel it. No, no, no, that wasn’t part of the plan!

That wasn’t part of the plan!

What was I thinking? Why did I think I could do this? Was I even thinking? Was I ever thinking? What should I do, what should I do, what should I do?

The wax! The wax is melting! The wax is melting and the heat is seeping through my skin and down through my bones and I- I’m falling! I’m falling. I'm falling. I’m falling!

No, no, no- No. Focus, Icarus. Get your wings back. Get control. You can do this. You can get your wings back. You were made for this. I was made for this.

I have to be.

The sun. The sun- it’s laughing at me. I’m falling and it’s laughing, it’s laughing and I’m falling. I knew it all along. The gods- they wouldn’t help me.

I can’t be better than them.

I’m falling faster now. The ground is coming up too fast. Too fast. Why is everything spinning?
Is it spinning?

I don’t know! I can’t feel my wings- I can’t feel anything! This isn’t supposed to happen! I’m supposed to fly! I was born to soar!

I can’t stop it I can’t stop it the world is too big and I’m too small and the sky is too bright and my wings are gone and everything’s... everything’s—everything’s fucking falling it’s all falling I am falling

The
ground.

The
sea.

The
cold.

I can feel it now. I feel the end.

No.

I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I’m not ready. I— I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to be so arrogant, so foolish. Please... please don’t let this be how it ends.

But it’s too late now. It’s too late.

This is how it ends. This is how they’ll remember me.

I touched the sun.

And
Now
I’m
falling.

returning with more works! the first is modelled after "this is just to say" by william carlos williams and the second is a characterization poem

vanilla perfume
I wore the
vanilla perfume
that you told me
you can’t stand.

You smelled
its sweet elixir
on my skin and
you wrinkled your nose.

Forgive me,
everyone else said
I smelled like
hugs and cookies.


Francis
I can’t help but look at the clouds in my room with indignant disdain.
As a child, my face would contort at the acrid sting of cigarette smoke;
now it is nothing more than
a fragrant veil to obscure my grief.
How sickening it is to gild my lungs with ash and weep because
no amount of self-sought fury will bring back
the glory of innocence.
I have borne the raw agony of loss,
like salt pressed into an open wound
and watched it fester until it was the only thing left.
How gruesome it is to have known the weight of love and tremble under it,
but now remain unshaking, holding the phantom of a lost love,
wondering if they may ever again cradle the softness of unguarded affection.
What cruel irony
to have loved so deeply only to forget.
I beg you, little one,
love with grand fortitude, love with outstanding audaciousness, love with all the wildness you can muster,
for life is a fleeting thing not to be squandered in regret and sorrow,
and it is not meant to be lived like I have.

Santorium

Her stale, medicinal breath mingled with the clouds of conflicting perfume.
One was vanilla, the other was pear.
One belonged to a perpetually ill girl who was rotting from the inside out,
the other, to a mother waiting with cynical patience for a healing that would never arrive.
The room, serene in its silence, cradled them both with gladness in her flawless, porcelain embrace,
as though the stiff waiting room chair and firm mattress were equally content
to bear the weight of their sorrow.
The machines taunted them with relentless clicks and whirs, pulsing,
get well
soon.
get well
soon,
knowing full well that their curative clicking would never cease.
Needles pinch her skin like a mischievous child,
each sting scolded and amended by the watchful nurse behind it.
The cold fluids slithered inside her, kissing her veins and quietly apologizing
for the sour taste of saline and copper that slicked the back of her throat.
It's okay, she says
and takes the delicate, blanched hand of drowsiness,
who waits for her, whispering softly and lulling her to sleep with gentle affections.
It's okay.

valentine's day special <3

i met you and the world turned bright,
like a dream wrapped in daylight~
with every touch, my heart takes flight,
forever & always lost in the light ~
i’m enchanted whole,
you were my only goal ~
because you are my end game,
the only burning flame ~
so lets dance through every page,
in love that never fades with age ~
no more desert dryness,
a love that really is timeless ~ <3