Repello Muggletum: a Hogwarts Roleplay discussion

Self-explanatory? You betcha.

My Writing:
I'm Too Lazy

Click on my profile and scroll down until you find it. ;)

Nice.

Yep. A true laziness right there.

http://www.goodreads.com/story/list/6...

If you like Horror, read The Student Body
If you like Suspense, read the flash fiction Forest in the Moonlight
If you like Action and Mystery, read Arctic Writings

I wrote a new poem. Read it if you'd like, and I'd love some feedback.

So, this is a poem I just wroe, and I'm surprised by how easy it was to right, even if some of the words don't match, or the format is jacked up. Feedback would be nice :)

Locks of shimmering hue
And eyes of bluest blue
These are some things that I love about you

Long walks on the beach can never compare
To the wonderful days in which you are there

My reason to live and let live
To whom all I would give;

My honor, my trust, my word, my love
It seems as though you came from above

My heart has always been under lock and key
Yet you and only you have found the real me

Nice poem, Silvy. It's got a nice, simple love undertone that I quite like.

Thank you. Mags. :)

Oh, wow, Gwyn! That was awesome!

Random poetry that I sometimes write. Sorry that I'm not very good :p

http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/2...

LOL, naw it was really good. :D

http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/2...

There's also this story I'm writing but it's not on GR yet... I keep forgetting to

Shiver


the hand i use to rub my face of worry and want
comes back speckled with soot
and every movement is frightening,
the past and present and future all
accumulating into one
repetitive repetitive repetitive
streak .
my reflection is disillusionment;
skin on skin feels no more real
than a dream within a dream.
i can’t tell you
how much you terrify me -
with the ashes blown from left to right,
and the leaves dropping in a midnight pool,
with your name written everywhere,
and the broken little whisper kiss.
humiliated and slapped with the iron rule
i shiver, i shudder, i ache and i tremble
the tip of the tongue is cut

Whimsicality wrote: "Shiver


the hand i use to rub my face of worry and want
comes back speckled with soot
and every movement is frightening,
the past and present and future all
accumulating into one
repetitive re..."


Rightfully named, Whim. That made me shiver. That was an amazing poem.

Jo wrote: "Caprices
If only I could run away...!
Yes, that would keep my soul at bay
I'd find in each and every day...
A quest in every thin sunray.

Why don't you hear the melody
The melody of the..."

Wow, Jo. I really like your poems, too. You're both really good!

So far, I've only got one story that I'm working on. When I get my hournal back [please don't ask who has it], I'll have more.

http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/2...

http://afloop.blogspot.com/

Blog I put thangs on.

I wrote another story!!! It's not very good, i just wrote, and that's what happened. It's called Chaser of Artemis.

http://www.goodreads.com/story/list/3...

It's a new poem, one of my firsts in a while...

http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/2...

Eyes

Watching me,
following me.
In the darkness
they are hiding
so I can't see.

All of these eyes
adjust to the dark
and look at me like
I'm in the center
of some circus.

All of these eyes
watch me in the night
and stalk me alone,
like I am just
their prey.

I don't want them
to follow me.
I don't want them
to know what I do.
I just want them to go!

Cameras flash,
videos record,
as I walk down
the red carpet
in my galore.

I just want to go
act crazy, but
not get judged anymore
by these people
who don't even know me.

Watching me,
following me,
in the darkness
they are hiding
so I can't see.

Nothing's private
anymore and I don't
want to live like this.
I want to have fun,
to go live like ME!

But all of these
people keep watching
me like I'm a circus,
creeping up behind me
and pouncing on me

Trying to catch me
unprepared and
in an awkward scene.
They're watching
everywhere I go.

They built me up from nothing but dirt...
they built me up so they could worship me...
they built me up so I could be used...
They built me up with their help...
But now I don't want it anymore!

They build you up,
just to tear you down,
like a circus tent
traveling town to town.

Squeezing you,
breaking you,
getting their
last few cents
from you.

Their eyes are
watching me,
following me,
hiding in the dark
so I can't see them...

Um, another short story, though it took a different turn than my other one. And I did finish Dylan's story, that's also in my other writing.

http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/2...

Stormy Night in a Ghost Town
I.
Staggering green burn a ghost
town (painted a decaying shade of
rust), ridden with trees, yellowed and
afloat, stabbing straight into
indigo sky, fading into trees-painted-marigold,
swarmed with leaves greener than
previously imagined—dotted with pale spots of
dying, decaying amnion.

Sewer vomit resides, crusting, upon bricks once as white as the clouds, now absent.

II.
Sharp white grab onto the
sky, shrugging off onto thorny
needles for branches. Grey flourish
in the sky—gradually darkening.
Strike of lighting: burn to a crisp
a poor little bird who will never meet
with the rest of its flock.

Creek flowing, spiking up with
impacting drops. Blackened green bark
(with almost the same half-yellow-half-green
previously mentioned) surrounded by green grass
being torn apart bit by bit in the ravenous wind.

Mountains reach to hold onto the cherub
reaching down from between polluted cotton
racing across the sky, trying to see who can reach
the net down first.

Floating down the river goes a branch, limbs ajar, and black.

 
III.
Poor little girl,
sat upright and stiff,
hands folded caressing a
handkerchief. Little black
hairs tucked away from stark
white skin. Tiny miss, so so sad.
uncertainty across her pale little face.

Cloak protect her.
Hums from the muttered mess,
leave her be. A shame there’s
no recognition of anyone dead,
or soon-to-be dead.

It seems a bit overdone, to be honest. Here if you want more criticism.

I'd love some.

Poem of Life

{Children come hither 
No more patter-pitter
All of you, come round 
Do not make a sound 
As I am about to tell you
About the poem of life}

Spare the harsh sting of bee 
The first perfect ABC's 
Spare the very first teacher 
That by mistake, you taught her

Spare the very first fight 
Among friends, filled with spite
Spare the very first tears
The start of many in next years

Spare the first almost-kiss 
Followed by your first real bliss
Spare the very first heartache 
The look in his eyes you can't take

Spare the first final love
Wedding theme- from above
Spare the very first birth
The most beautiful on earth 

Spare the  first death
Watched him take his last breathe
Spare the very first funeral
The unnatural thick cloud of sorrow 

Spare all these memories; good or bad 
Treat this as the fullest life you'll ever have 
Spare these moments all in your head
For you never know when a life will end

I am in no way done with this piece and it's bound to be editted and shuffled around but I wanted to share with y'all.

Shadows waltzed across the ceiling in rhythm to the circling fan blades. Her eyes gazed into the steady pinwheel as her breaths and heartbeat gradually slowed. The fan overhead guided her thoughts and memories much like a counselor who steered the mental journey, serene as a paddleboat traveling down the Mississippi.

Where are you going?

Eyes closed in order to focus on the gentle breeze caressing and cooling the hot tear cradled along her cheek. Where was I going?

Snippets of an eerie carousel melody caught her attention. Pain and the want to escape triggered where to go first. She was a child that danced with the fairies of the forest, laughed as brilliant as the sun, and loved her world with a pure heart. People spoke and she understood. A rainbow painted her horizon when she played with friends and basked in her family's love. Life seemed normal until then . . .

A slow moving storm approached the landscape. It wasn't enough to deter her from blindly walking out into the woods to dance again. But overtime, the fairies faded, her laughter dimmed, and love became shadowed by splinters in her heart. People were confusing when they spoke and she grew more frustrated by trying to translate their meaning.


The sea of memories rose to drown her next breath. Panicked to travel through those times, her heartbeat skipped in racing as the dread oozed over her body to a point of shivering. Self-loathing spoke about her inability to understand people. It came, that time when she watched companions smile and chuckle with another. A feeling of euphoria and connection seemed to reflect in their gazes but when the attention directed at her -- obligation. Those polite smiles and brief glances back at others kept putting pressure on her heart, a weight as crushing as a boulder on her belly. The wires connecting those present hummed merrily and glimmered comfortably like holiday lights. But those which slithered toward her fizzled with broken lines. What could she do? The landscape was as foreign to her as fixing a busted computer. Her head hung knowing no manual existed for these repairs.

She tried. Books became a source of knowledge with their many tales about friendships and relationships. The band of babysitters were an ideal; they had that fictional friendship reflected in many groups seen in her daily life. The friends who would call and delight in the shared company. Warmth, very lasting warmth, was the key. Cold wrapped its blanket about her body to suck away the brief warmth stored from the polite invitations, the how do you dos, and basking away the hours talking. Each piece seemed to exist for the day and had to hold her together until the next time -- be it a week, month, or year later. Where was her warmth?

You were in love.

Fingers curled until nails pressed into her palms, using that pain to steel herself against that statement. Ash from smoldering chapters fluttered past her eyes like the butterflies of affection and anxiety. She had loved. The truth was even more painful to admit each time when norms urged her to acknowledge. Bits of happiness were stowed away in a jewelry box but the vast remainder was a reminder of failure after failure and the ugliness never to be repeated. Her teeth ground until they ached, fear heightening from the worry the ugliness would return.

Screams ripped past her lips as violent as an electric shock rattling her body. Darkness consumed every corner of her mind. When she stared at the mirror only the demon which was grinned ruthlessly back at her. Happiness was sucked away and demand kept whipping the men of her past. More. More. MORE. And when she was spent, exhausted from grasping and clawing her way to the surface, she walked away. Nothing else could be felt save for the linger touch of love. The guilt squeezed her throat until she choked and fled. Somewhere in the midst of spiraling together to reach one, the thrilling anticipation of a future suddenly went horribly wrong.

We broke. She couldn't outpace the demon or the falling for those who were her demon. Happiness was a golden thread binding the pages of fairy tales; the enchantment could only last a short time before reality shown her broken inability to connect. Her square block could not fit into the circles of life.

The lonely walk of existence dragged on as long and uncertain as a yellow brick road. Barren trees lined the emptiness ahead. When she looked sideways, tiny households with white fences and lights on the front porch appeared on the far horizon. Those were the places of brief connections which helped return a smile to her mask. It was easy to play the fool and skip across each brick, if only, to trick herself and others.

Very intriguing. In the third paragraph, last sentence, you change perspectives, which is a bit confusing. I don't know if it was intended or not, but it seems out of place. Other than that, nice job. ^^

Oh I meant that to be she instead of I. Good catch. Thanks. There's a lot more work needed and most of all to complete the entire piece.

Ah. No worries. ^^ I was writing a story in present tense, but had to stop and when I came back I completely forgot so I went back to past. You can imagine how long it took to correct everything.

Uh-oh! Yeah, I can well imagine that.