Post Stories and Poems Here

[KaraKupkakex]

my poem is justt kinda random..

Love,Hate.
what means more than any?
if they both hurt someone in the same way
arent they the same?
Love is a strong word, for is Hate.
Hate only sometimes takes over love,
And love only sometimes takes over hate.
Believe in any and put your first word first annd you will understand
both.Understand tht u have only 2 choices between both
with one person.
I know i will find piece between both, but for now
my choice is love,until hate decides
love is not right for me.

It was a very random day,
and i dont even think it makes sense .. xD
but idc. lmao

[Miranda_]

The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
" 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,
Nameless here forevermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
" 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;---
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
Lenore?, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
"Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at my window lattice.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.
" 'Tis the wind, and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door.
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore,---
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never---nevermore."

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath
Sent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore---
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted---nevermore!

Edgar Allan Poe

[Andjelija]

LOVE STORY

The love story began with a simple SMS,
and ended up being a very big mess,
I thought i didn't love you,
but i guess i was wrong too,
I love you, and all i want you too know,
is that forever, and ever, you'll stay in my soul.

[Elanorea]

^ that's a pretty cute little love poem

I wrote something as well; just a small monologue about one of my characters.

---

You're not entirely sure how this happened, but you're not young anymore. No, you're not that old, not even fifty yet; but you know your personal clock is ticking out. You've almost got used to the constant pain in your joints, and that old wound is acting up now more than ever. You can't sleep much at night. And it feels like your life is slipping out of your hands; you're no longer in control of anything. You're not even sure what the higher-ups are up to these days, and you used to be one of them. Now you're stuck here, far away from home and with nothing to do.

Oh, you go about your daily life, and deal with the problems as they come up, but these are mundane, unimportant things and you can't help thinking you could be doing so much more. You feel restless; and in your free time you go out walking, wandering the streets of this strange town, searching for something that is always out of your reach. You want to go home, only you're not sure where home is. Not here, certainly, and not where you came from, either. Home was a place you'd hoped to build, once - a place worth living in; and you're sure you could still be doing something about it now, if only they'd let you. But you're stuck here, wasting your time, simply wasting away, thinking about all the things you could, should and would do.

So you walk along the deserted streets, your feet kicking up rotting leaves that nobody bothered to sweep up, and trying not to think about the realisation that's been slowly creeping into your heart - that even if that place is ever built, it will be by someone else, and you will not see it.

---

Not very original or interesting, I suppose; really just a small experiment with second-person narration, since I wanted to try something unusual.

[HimeFirestar]

As I awoke from my slumber, I heard a whisper. Leaves and twigs crunched beneath my feet as I got up, looking for the owner of the mysterious voice.
"Rebbecca," it called, "Rebbecca." It was beckoning me toward it, but the direction from whence it came confused me.
"Rebbecca," it called one last time, immedaitely stopping. Who was calling me? I wondered. A blast of wind hit me from behind, so I quickly turned around to find a boy standing there.
"Rebbecca," he said. He was the voice. "I've missed you." He put his hand up to touch my face, but I fell back, a whirlpool of questions floating around in my head. I asked the one that seemed the most important.
"Who are you?" He frowned at this, and tried to touch me again. I swatted his hand away.
"Answer my question!" I screamed. Sorrow filled his eyes.
"You should know, Rebbecca." He walked backwards, fading into the background of trees and grass.
"Wait!" I begged him. Too late.
"Elizabeth!"
----------------------
Is it good?

[Sweet_Venom]

Please read!

http://www.thedollpalace.com/story/-...-se-ty-as.html

=]

--RINA

[ColorPencil]

A random poem I made that doesn't make sense.

Falling
Let's find the gateway to our happiness
Fall into the stars
Find away to forget everything
And brush out all the pain
The burden in your shoulders
All the guilt tied up in your heart
The getaway that we always we wanted
One word, one time, one destiny, one mistake
Heaven.

[Santa_Claus]

When out in GD there arose such a clatter,
Miranda sprang into action to see what was the matter.
Away to the forum she flew like a flash,
Tore open the board and gave a great gasp.

[ColorPencil]

Hurting

It hurts me to say
That it hurts to be here.
Your words hurt more than my wounds
The words are sharper than you think they will be
If I had a chance, I'd say the most hurtful things to you.
But I am the smarter one and keep my mouth shut.
Why?
Because they will hurt me and you.
Your lies slither through my spine
& I cry until my pale green eyes can shut out the misery
Infuriated, I try to speak.
But I know you won't say anything but dejected lines.

[xxMeggieMaggot]

This is a bit of the opening paragraph to the autobiography I was writing...

"How did I get here? Tell me how I got where I am today. This whole charade, everything I pretend to be. I remember I haven’t cried in months. It’s almost June and I haven’t cried all year. It’s funny how one person’s smallest action can bring the strongest tower down. I was that tower. I was strong, proud and I wouldn’t let anyone push me around. But honestly, I wasn’t always that tower. I was a sand wall. I was strong against a couple of beating waves, but in the end, I crumbled. And after a while it wasn’t always so easy to rebuild myself. I got sick of the constant beating of the waves, and decided to create the strongest wall possible; the foundation for my tower. You would think, the more you load on top of the foundation, the stronger the tower, but even more strain was placed upon me and at any moment a crack could appear. Cracks in the foundation can be patched easily, but will never be as good as new."