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Topic Review (Newest First)
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| Feb 13th, 2003 05:27 PM | |
| James |
Well, yeah. I don't wanna give too much away (like it matters), but the character is supposed to be a Necromancer, who had something happen in his past that caused him to become a Necromancer. And I swear, it's not as stupid as it sounds when I say it like that. |
| Feb 13th, 2003 01:08 PM | |
| Protoclown | Too self-indulgent and melodramatic. But I don't know what you're going for with the character and the story. |
| Feb 11th, 2003 05:37 AM | |
| James |
That's supposed to represent the repetition and endless anguish of the character's life. It's always painful. It's never any different. Edit: Bastards. I need more than just 2 opinions here. And Legolars, I believe I asked for elaboration. 
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| Feb 11th, 2003 05:11 AM | |
| Tropical | The poem is too repetitive |
| Feb 11th, 2003 04:04 AM | |
| James |
...right. I don't quite get what you're suggesting in your changes. Removing a line here and there, and adding in backslashes don't seem to really mean anything and make it "better." If you could, I'd appreciate some more elaboration in your suggestions. |
| Feb 11th, 2003 03:58 AM | |
| LegoLars |
I didn't like it but i don't see whats wrong with it.. O, see the long-dead roses, Watch them crumble To dust/ T’will it be nothing but a dream, When I see the sun? Or is the sun a fire, which scolds my heart? The fire that burns the long-dead roses, Watch how they crumble To dust/ The life, once vibrant, Once full, once basking in the sun, Once swaying to the gentle breeze, Now nothing more than memories Only I have The long-dead roses lose all they knew Watch as they crumble To dust/ Then is comes to me, Like a sword striking my very soul To know the answer To know the long-dead roses still live To know a way to hold them, In my heart, To live To bask in the sun To sway in the gentle breeze But, it is too late now As I see the long-dead roses, And now they crumble To dust/ To dust/ |
| Feb 10th, 2003 11:53 PM | |
| James |
Fragile is the Garden of the Mind First off; yes, this is a very "whiny goth kids" poem. It's supposed to be written through the eyes of a character in a story I've been working on for a few years now. Constructive criticism welcome. Fragile is the Garden of the Mind by James Light O, see the long-dead roses, Watch them crumble To dust, To dust… T’will it be nothing but a dream, When I see the sun? Or is the sun a fire, which scolds my heart? The fire that burns the long-dead roses, Watch how they crumble To dust, To dust… The life, once vibrant, Once full, once basking in the sun, Once swaying to the gentle breeze, Now nothing more than memories Only I have The long-dead roses lose all they knew Watch as they crumble To dust, To dust… Then is comes to me, Like a sword striking my very soul To know the answer To know the long-dead roses still live To know a way to hold them, In my heart, To live To bask in the sun To sway in the gentle breeze But, it is too late now As I see the long-dead roses, And now they crumble To dust, To dust… |
