Cambria Monthly - April

[ADMIN ACCOUNT]

[→izzehkins←]

d'awww, i'm losing my touch. second place...psh. PRACTICE TIME. sooner or later i actually will win that extra charrie spot xD SOONER. OR. LATER. YOU'LL SEE.
(for all those people who told me i am a posting beast/amazing: TOLD YOU SO.)

also, locu: DO NAWT FORCE ME TO ENTER CONTESTS D<

as for those new contests, no wins for me, but i can try all the same. and hai votes fighting, even though she abhors fighting her own kind. she really doesn't want to be banded. ANYONE WANT TO FIGHT HER IN THE ARENA?!

[→izzehkins←]

ps: why can't we put the album covers here?

[ADMIN ACCOUNT]

-shifty eyes- Cuz I said to PM them to me >.>

[→izzehkins←]

D< LOCU. WAIIIIIIIIIIIII?! D:

-as thousands of really weird scenarios run through my head-

[sigath]

I'm not really a poem person...but I wanted to do a contest. Used poems I've already done that are somewhat okay enough to show people >>


Random Poem:

If in the sky those fireflies were not so hard to reach
I'd spread my wings and take that leap into the lurid breach
My heart would dance and dreams would fly and never would they fall
But all I say and all I hope they do not heed my call

My feet would never touch the earth and no longer would I cry
If in the sky those fireflies were not so very high
And still I feel, if I did reach, they are within my grasp
Because I feel no sorrow until failure is in my past.

And because those lights have never touched my uplifted face
The need to drop and fight no more has taken hope's bright place.
My wings will fold and the tears will come and I will fly to more
And I will never reach the peaks for strength has left my core

But those many who have followed me and given their life's trust,
Have placed their fate upon these wings which tells me that I must.
My fight is not for me alone and never will it be
For every stroke of these great wings gives life to them and me.

I am not just one, nor are we few, we rise, and fall, and breath
And I know those fireflies can be touched if all of us just reach.
So take a breath and lift your face and make a wish for all
That we will catch those glowing lights and none of us will fall.

Sonnet:

Sharp fangs that gleam in the sun's dieing rays
Deep violet scales glow in the hollow light
Hear the roar of earth's dark and final days.
Pushing away the darkness and the night.
Broad silk wings that blacken out the skies;
Giant spines that can pierce the flesh of man
This image is brought forth by he who flies.
But worst of all, the muscles' play and
The giant claws that grasp the broken fates
Those who steal the souls of many who live
And then to cast them into death's own gates:
To hold and to keep, lost never to give.
But as this wing'ed 'death' takes to its flight
Scales soft, eyes kind, not of death, but of light.

Haiku Collection [ from 2 years ago]:

Paws touch ground softly,
Moment of stillness,
Then swift flash of death.

Nose nuzzles gently,
Small whimpers fill morning air,
A new life has come.

Chorus fills the sky,
All muzzles raised in prayer,
To a god unknown.

Razor fangs slash,
Devil eyes promise death,
Pleasure in the kill.

Frightening noises,
Gold bite of metal on fur,
Death awaits the pack.

Two eyes, then more look.
A sound, then another break.
Some have survived us.

[/size]

[Otto]

*raises hand* I has a question. Can we put our art contest entries on dA when we're done, if not here?

[ADMIN ACCOUNT]

Nrr, that's a tough question, but I suppose so even though I'd rather you didn't until after the contest is over.

[ADMIN ACCOUNT]

ENTER THE CONTESTS OR DIE.

[AvatarFreak]

Eek! Locu! I promise I'll enter it just may be that last day of April though *shot*

Heyyy~y on another unrelated topic- Did you know it's actually National Poetry month? Pretty ironic in my opinion, hopefully I won't shame NPM and post a big pile of poo for my entry. XD

Anyways, I got some inspiration today and this is what happened:

Poem contest entry~

I didn't want to write another cliche animal poem,
About wolves howling in the night,
Teeth sharp and ready to bite,
About an eagle soaring in the sky,
Looking so majestic up so high,
About a lion full of power and pride,
Hunting in the Sahara, mouth open wide,
About the mellow calm fish,
Happy in its underwater niche,
About the sneaky sly fox,
With little white feet, just like socks,
About a horse strong and tall,
And how it gets up now matter how hard it falls,
About a cat sneaking in the night,
Fluffy, fierce, fat or ready to fight,
About the raven saying nevermore,
The classic of an old folklore,
About the spider causing fear,
Scary and poisonous, no one gets near,
About the big grizzly bear,
Deep in the forest, not wanting to share,
About a lizard slimy and green,
And walks so fast he can't be seen,
I've read too many to write another,
So I wrote a poem like no other,
Not another cliche animal poem.

[→izzehkins←]

so, uh, i kinda pulled these out of my ass today. but, uh, here you go. and locu said we could write about anything as long as we entered today so don't get on my ass about them not being animals >>




The cold is spreading, spreading
From my heart to my fingers
My toes and my mind
The numbness is setting in
And I begin to lose all feeling

Is this real?
I’m turning into a ghost
This isn’t my life, my world
I’m floating through this place
Watching from the outside

This isn’t my world
I can see them
But they can’t see me
And I can’t feel the warmth
The emptiness eats it away

I move through the day slowly
Dead to the world
As they’re dead to me
And slowly, pretty silver blades
Start to dance before my eyes

My hand slips under the pillow
Pulls my secret into the open
Open the bag, pull it out
The antidote to my pain
A tiny, sharp edge

The bite of the blade
So sweet, so painful
And the skin splits
And the blood starts to flow
But the cold isn’t gone

I stare, so cold, at that wound
I’m not all here – I’m gone
And slowly, so slowly
I reach over and press that blade
And I make that wound deeper.





First, pull out the pillow
Pull the pillowcase off
And pour the poison out
Knives and shiny razor blades
Rubber bands and bandages
All to fix the damage done.

Then, pick your poison
Welts or cuts or gashes?
The rubber band for the best
The knife for the worst of times
And get ready for the cure
And try to fix the damage done.

Take a deep breath, so deep
Try to take in some air
Your lungs are closing, I know
But after all, it’s a formality
Even if you’re suffocating
You’re about to fix the damage done.

Now quickly, quickly
Don’t try to think – it doesn’t work
Quickly, press that blade to the skin
One more breathe
Now drag that blade across the skin
And fix the damage done.

Now take another breath
Feel the air in your lungs
Feel the blood start to flow
And feel your heart start to beat
Bleed out the poison in your blood
And fix the damage done.

Soon, you’ll have to close the wound
But you’ll have that one consolation
That under that tape and bandage
There’s one line where the skin split
And the edges gaped wide open
Where you fixed the damage done.






I have shards of ice in my veins, cutting me open
And there’s poison in my blood, killing me
My lungs shrink, and I can’t breathe
And that black hole opens its insatiable maw
It’s going to eat me from the inside out
The world shifts in my eyes until I’m not part of this world
The ache starts in me and my stomach rebels
I have to get rid of the pain, oh God help me
And my chest throbs, the source of the pain
And the rot spreads, it’s eating my heart.

[ADMIN ACCOUNT]

I know I can't win |D but this is a poem that I wrote for a class at school. It protests discrimination and teasing, and all that immature crap that kids pull. I'm sure anyone reading this can relate...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Do you even hear yourself?

How would you like to be spoken to in that way?

Does my pain bring you sick joy?

Do you sleep soundly at night with that laughter trembling in your chest?

Your likes and dislikes are of no concern to me,

but your pitiful insults ring in my heart endlessly.

Suck it up?

Just. Let. It. Go?

Why give up who I am for you?

What makes you better?

Keep your classifications to yourself.

I can not be chained by your expectations.

I am who I am.

This is not your perfect little world.

We are not factory dolls staring into the distance with the same unseeing eyes.

I don't see the solid line of black and white that you needlessly scold me for crossing.

I see the elegant gradients of life,

and I revel in their beauty.

Don't you point those grubby fingers

and throw coals into my soul.

I don't like how it feels.

I do not enjoy your sinister eyes and crackling faces.

Just because I am not who you think I should be,

doesn't mean that I'm not worthy of being treated equal.

Just because my voice is only one,

doesn't mean that it shouldn't be heard.

I won't be drowned out by your lies anymore.

[Otto]

So this is not a poem I wrote, but it's one of my favorite animal poems ever. And only six lines long. I wanted to share the awesomeness that is Lord Alfred Tennyson's "The Eagle":


The Eagle

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ringed with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.



Hope you guys get some inspiration from it, or at the very least enjoyed it.

[Action]

There are lotsa animals
Oh in this world
Like the cow that goes MOOOOOO
It goes MOOOO and MOOO and MOOOO
All day loooooong.
It chews it's cud and goes MOOOO MOOO MOOOOOOOOOO
OH HOW I LOVE DEM COOOOWS.


Not really much of a poem...I'm not very good at poetry. x3

[/blockquote]

[Otto]

So, uh, only one of these has an animal as its focus, and even that one doesn't really count. But Locu said it was okay. Heheh.

A few notes: 1) Iambic pentameter is a pain in the arse. 2) Yes, I <3 mythology. 3) The last one counts as being about an animal.


Their Echoes

Among the decadence we wander, lost,
No more than phantoms drifting in the mist,
The earth is hardened, bitten deep by frost,
Though once by summer’s warmth its brow was kissed.
Returning to our ancient haunts, we stare
At what remains of visions left to rot,
Resentment in our eyes, far too aware
Of what could be, what is, and what is not:
Too many dreams bygone, a swift cascade
Through outstretched fingers—falling grains of sand.
We plead for time, but game’s already played
And of our fortunes we have lost command.
Unwelcome echoes follow to remind
That severed prospects we have left behind.


Rise

Eternally delicate, Aurora’s rosy fingers
brush against my own—
wrinkled and calloused, grown stiff
over years of use
and misuse.

Fumbling, my clumsy hands struggle with the string of the kite as
it fights me. Young fingers can barely restrain the maddened animal
lurching recklessly in its attempts to escape,
emboldened by the ruthless winds of
March
comes the command, and I comply, boots
falling in a dreadful rhythm. Wind brings the tang of gunpowder
and smoke, battle imminent; Ares hungers. I want
nothing more than to close my eyes and
Sleep
I tell my children, whose eyelids are already drooping. Their dreams
should be serene and innocent, but the dream-lord also sows
the seeds of nightmares. My little ones cannot
resist the work of Morpheus, and to every corner of his world of dreams they
Scatter
to the winds, saying their farewells,
our fledglings take a leap. We watch with bated breath, praying
for someone to keep them safe, for our sheltering embrace
cannot follow them. No longer under our wing, they are
Grown
old, my memories worn away by the waters of Lethe,
old friends mere apparitions that fade like mist in the sun.

I am alone, restless, rising early to meet the dawn.

She embraces me as she always has,
the only constant throughout my too many years, though I am
shrunken, diminutive, grey—
her Tithonus.


Arachne

They say the goddess punished you
for your hubris, for your pride in your talent
that wove wonders out of thread.
In your arrogance you forgot your place.
Though your hands worked magic, brought the dead
wood of the loom to life,
you were a mere visitor in her domain,
never the master of the art
she claimed as hers.

But her fury lashed not at your ego;
nor was it (as many dare not say)
from envy at your unparalleled skill. Your crime
and your foolishness lay in your audacity, your willingness
to tell things as they were. You laid bare
the gods’ transgressions on your canvas, revealed
to our eyes that they who held themselves above us mortals
were no better. Entwined in your yarn:
a white bull, a dolphin, a swan,
a ram, a satyr, a golden rain,
infidelity, deception, seduction,
and countless beautiful women, victims
of the gods’ games and voracious appetites,
left to fend for themselves
when they amused the gods no longer.

You dared tell the truth,
brave, pitiful girl, now robbed
of even your power to lie,
or to whisper your remorse.

Wrath and shame in her eyes, the goddess
tore nails and teeth across the silk,
rent the precious cloth to tatters
and with the shuttle struck
you down. Your head shrank, your body shriveled; your curves
melted and morphed into a single bulbous lump.
Your dexterous fingers, instruments of insolence,
she saved for last, not satisfied until they had been
deformed beyond recognition:
black, skeletal, pathetic remains
bent in ways they should not.

The truth is deadly, as you well know
every time you defiantly weave your empty tapestries
on your loom of air.