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Author Topic: When They Curse Your Creativity  (Read 1423 times) Average Rating: 0
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Gebre Menfes Kidus
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« on: May 11, 2013, 05:25:44 AM »

It hurts when people curse your creativity. It hurts deeply when you labor to create something that you hope will glorify God and uplift humanity, only to have your work unfairly judged, condemned, and dismissed by those who have not even bothered to examine it. But do not despair. If your creative endeavors come from your heart, if they are motivated by a desire to make the world a better place, and if they seek above all to honor the God from whom all creativity flows, then know that your work will bear divine fruit. If you find that unknown enemies come out of the woodwork to attack your efforts, realize that whatever glorifies God also stirs up the wrath of demons. Ignore the hatred and continue to shine your light. Recognize that divine works will inevitably bring demonic opposition. And sometimes this opposition will try to masquerade itself as righteousness. But the spirits reveal themselves by their spirit; and although they may try, the hatred of demons cannot hide behind the façade of virtue. So continue to do JAH works; and if others don’t receive your love, then shake the dust from your feet and move forward in positivity and peace. Continue to sow your creative seeds – for the glory of God, not for the praise of men – and your labor will never be in vain. Usually, those that curse our creativity are those who lack the courage and faith to create anything themselves. Rather than using their energies to uplift others, they exhaust themselves in efforts to tear us down. As Bob Marley (Berhane Selassie) sang:


“Many people will fight you down
When you see JAH light
Let me tell you if you're not wrong
Then everything is all right
So we’re gonna walk
Through the roads of creation
We the generation
Trod through great tribulation!”

I give thanks for all those on OC.net who are artists, artisans, authors, musicians, poets, philosophers, theologians, apologists, and activists! Your works of love, light, and truth are works of healing. I don't have to agree with you on every issue, and I don't have to agree with your artistic tastes, but if you are using your creativity to bring glory to God and healing to your fellow man, then I say Much Respect!

If the moderators approve, please use this thread as an opportunity for you to post links, advertisements, and information that will promote the righteous works that you are doing. We have to support one another in these troubled times. Just post your info right here for others to see, or provide a link. Again, if the moderators say it’s OK. If not, then let’s just pray for one another as we use our creativity for the glory of God. 


 (I respectfully ask that everyone refrain from any negativity, criticisms, or debate here. Let’s encourage and support one another!)


Selam, +GMK+
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« Reply #1 on: May 11, 2013, 07:00:23 AM »

Good initiative. I'd contribute but none of my poems is in English.

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« Reply #2 on: May 11, 2013, 07:05:10 AM »

I use my blog (linked on my sig) to share what I find inspirational: books, art, music, dance, food. Although I lack the skill to create most of these myself, I'm convinced that those who can should be promoted.

What I can do is write, but my material is not forum-appropriate. angel

Oh, and remember: Only the most mediocre and anodyne works don't attract any negative criticism. Wink
« Last Edit: May 11, 2013, 07:06:28 AM by Arachne » Logged

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« Reply #3 on: May 11, 2013, 07:15:38 AM »

What I can do is write, but my material is not forum-appropriate. angel

Oh wow, I didn't expect that.
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« Reply #4 on: May 11, 2013, 07:17:16 AM »

What I can do is write, but my material is not forum-appropriate. angel

Oh wow, I didn't expect that.

Let's just say most is rather too adult for such company.
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« Reply #5 on: May 11, 2013, 10:21:38 AM »

to the op: is that a quote from dreher whining not enough people buy his book on his sister's death or something?


Profanity replaced with something more appropriate  -PtA
 
Seeing that your previous warnings for profanity have done nothing to encourage you to curb your fingers, you are receiving this warning to last for the next 40 days. If you deem this action unfair, feel free to appeal it via private message to me.

- PeterTheAleut
« Last Edit: May 11, 2013, 05:52:23 PM by PeterTheAleut » Logged
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« Reply #6 on: May 11, 2013, 04:45:21 PM »

What exactly is the point of people posting creative works, but no one being allowed to criticize them?  Criticism is what creates stronger authors, and it seems rather insulting to suggest that adults shouldn't be able to take honest criticism of their work.
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« Reply #7 on: May 11, 2013, 04:48:17 PM »

I wish I could kidnap Jesus as ransom then send His Father a picture,
Lord I'll trade you back your Son if you give me back my miscarried sister,
And why do hood angels die at such an early age?
I cry at night, hoping to see them at the pearly gates,
Drugs run rampant, an advant of crime,
I look to the sky for an answer,
Oh Lord but why is there a such thing as HIV and cancer?
I'm feeling a warning,
How could we be content in a world of killin'
where chil'ren are starving?

That was the first poem I ever wrote, all of my teachers hated it.
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« Reply #8 on: May 11, 2013, 04:52:34 PM »

I was never good with poetry.  I was a little better with storytelling.
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« Reply #9 on: May 11, 2013, 05:16:42 PM »

The rhyme scheme is aabccb-aabbcc-abba-aabb. A bad prose translation is on the right. It sounds kinda bad in English, the rhyme and the sarcastic tone are largely lost.

Sophocles                                                                                                                                      Sophocles

“En, Sophocles, hoe staat het bij jou met de liefde? Kan jij nog wat klaarspelen bij een vrouw?”             "How does love suit with age, Sophocles, — are you still the man you
“Praat me er niet van, man!” antwoordde hij “Wat heerlijk dat ik daarvanaf ben,                                    were? "Peace," he replied; "most gladly have I escaped the thing of which
 het is net of ik van een razende en woedende meester verlost ben.”                                                     you speak.  I feel as if I had escaped from a mad and furious master."
- Plato, Politeia 329C                                                                                                                               -Plato, Politeia 329C


Nero, wrede man                                                                                                                                   Nero, cruel man
was een uiterst slecht tiran.                                                                                                                    was a tyrant, utterly wicked.
Tokkelend op de lier                                                                                                                               Playing on his lyre
zette de heerser van het land                                                                                                                  the ruler of the land
Rome in de brand.                                                                                                                                  set Rome ablaze
Het boeide hem geen zier                                                                                                                        he didn't care at all.

Ook de regeerperiode van Tarqijn                                                                                                            Tarquin's rule as well
was allesbehalve fijn.                                                                                                                              wasn't all that well
De konings goede naam,                                                                                                                         the king's good name -
vervallen en infaam                                                                                                                                fallen and infame.
Dus Brutus, goede man                                                                                                                           So Brutus, good man
deed de koning in de ban                                                                                                                         exiled the king

Ook onder Domitiaan                                                                                                                                Under Domitian too
- vreselijk despoot,                                                                                                                                  - the cruel tyrant,  
menselijk stuk schroot, -                                                                                                                           human piece of trash -
ging er menig burger aan.                                                                                                                          many civilians died

Zal er dan nog dan dezen                                                                                                                          Shall there a more cruel despot be
een wreder despoot nog wezen?                                                                                                                 than all of these?
Welzeker, beste man,                                                                                                                                Assuredly there is, good man
’t is Sophocles’ tiran!                                                                                                                                 it's Sophocles' tyrant!

Feel free to criticize, though.
« Last Edit: May 11, 2013, 05:17:48 PM by Cyrillic » Logged

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« Reply #10 on: May 11, 2013, 07:35:54 PM »

This is the closest thing to a righteous work I have done in a while, and I would not normally share this here but I am in a weird place, so...

"Lazarus Dies"

Quote
Oh, Death -- I already know you.
That time before, you
wrapped around me like a wet towel
and whispered deep in my ear
that deep in the ground
I was yours.
And I was.
Four days you staked claim on me —
... staked as I was to the earth
now salted and barren
by the tears of even God himself —
and four days I lay:
Property of Hades.

But this time around I have no fear.
I heard the word to come forth,
and no matter how tight you squeezed
the breath came back to me
and every breath I breathed
I knew
your power and your sting
are all bluster and show.

So hug me close, you old fraud,
but I know your arms are broken.
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« Reply #11 on: May 11, 2013, 08:44:04 PM »

I wish I could kidnap Jesus as ransom then send His Father a picture,
Lord I'll trade you back your Son if you give me back my miscarried sister,
And why do hood angels die at such an early age?
I cry at night, hoping to see them at the pearly gates,
Drugs run rampant, an advant of crime,
I look to the sky for an answer,
Oh Lord but why is there a such thing as HIV and cancer?
I'm feeling a warning,
How could we be content in a world of killin'
where chil'ren are starving?

That was the first poem I ever wrote, all of my teachers hated it.

Great first couple lines. Your teachers are idiots.
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« Reply #12 on: May 11, 2013, 09:02:05 PM »

I wrote this one when I was trying to expand my use of imagery in my autobiographical work. I find that playing instrumentals helps me to write poetry better, the instrumental I used for this one was Ice Cream by Raekwon. Anyhoo, this poem is called "Welcome".

Quote
Welcome to my neighborhood of sin n evil, buddha, harm
We live in evil, people getting lethal, fully armed,
So it's hard, and I'm getting feeble because getting a little food was hard,
When I was little my aunt was sticking needles through the arms,
And daddy was popping pills,
Mommy got me worried talking 'bout how we gonna pay the bills,
I came out the womb, entombed in gloom screaming,
Thinking "doom is soon to come in due season"
Just a deviant demon from society's semen[/i]

I call this one "Imagine"--it's inspired from John Lennon's song of the same title

Quote
A place where nations love,
No longer hate and drugs,
A community in unity made for thugs,
A labour of love straight from the Saviour above,
No longer anger and guns,
Death or poverty,
But every breath breathed in prosperity,
Everything the way it ought to be,
I can only hope for the day and try to set the example,
But I still fall short in so many ways, it's more than I can handle,
Apologize to my mom for the tears throughout the years,
And have stopped the harm she endured from dad,
Been more of a man,
These are the days I await to have.

This is one of my more controversial pieces dealing with racism, it has some profanity and harsh language, I call it "*****"

Quote
Yeah I'm a Mexican,
Nothing but a ****ing *****,
My only destiny meant to be clutching a grip,
And jumping your kids,
But guess again,
I won't be hushing my lips,
Nor cutting your ****ing grass,
Busting gats,
In school I was the fool being unfairly picked on and cussed at in class,
But what's that to you? Remember I'm just a *****
Social bottom feeder with a load of a lot of reefer trying to push a brick,
To make some currency,
Government hates to see us earn our keep,
That's why they cry and try to declare a state of emergency,
To battle the epidemic of the drugs,
Yet they let it run freely as an excuse to watch over us,
Diplomatically delegating dirty proclamations,
Leading to insanity, decimating and hurting our populations,
And yet they wonder why we're driven here,
Mexican minorities live in fear,
Afraid of not getting paid in this fiscal year,
Insecure and threatened, so they resort to hostility,
Afraid of what will happen if Latins reach their true ability,
Feds gave us a terrible, venerial disease,
From the government agencies called HIV to wipe out our population,
In America you're ****ed unless you're Christian, White Caucasion

"Welcome" Part II,

Quote
People in poverty plucked for political power,
Evil honestly exists,
Inflicts fear, this is the last hour,
Pass all your ethics aside,
To get here you have to sell your soul for cash, power sex and pride,
And then you're in the ghetto,
Where techs are fired and your only friend is the Devil,
Eternally oppressed by cops and the bourgiesie (sp?),
Mercilessly kept down by WASPS forcing their morality upon us,
Every principality imaginable got us,
In calamity, my entire family doing time,
We're just ghetto animals stuck in insanity, anarchy and crime,
Where everywhere around is a dirty domain for dope dealing,
Hard to sustain hope amongst all the killing,
Welcome to my frantic world of crazies, no remorse and utter dissension,
Feel the panic,
As it drags you down to Hades and throws your corpse into another dimension

This one is one I started but never finished, I call it "Incomplete"

Quote
Every day I awake is just a struggle,
Hate the trouble,
Pray I'll make or break double the funds,
The Devil runs the town,
That's why we're raped in a state of hate,
And hustle tons of pounds,
Of coke and reefer, busting our guns,
With no hope in our leader, because he's fudging over the slums,
I'm an allegory to indignation and foreign pain,
Tired of all the discrimination and blame,
Wish my father would stop snorting cocaine,
Over an open flame,
His mind disillusioned and deceitful,
In pollution and evil,
Mom crying in the corner in confusion, looking feeble,
Never shown real love,
So she found the temptation to take her life too enticing,
Filled the tub,
Then brought the knife to her wrist and started slicing,
Left with a dosage of obsolete, and some lacerations,
These streets'll eat and drink your flesh and blood,
Like Transubstantiation
« Last Edit: May 11, 2013, 09:07:54 PM by JamesR » Logged

Quote
You're really on to something here. Tattoo to keep you from masturbating, chew to keep you from fornicating... it's a whole new world where you outsource your crosses. You're like a Christian entrepreneur or something.
Quote
James, you have problemz.
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« Reply #13 on: May 11, 2013, 09:09:48 PM »

What I can do is write, but my material is not forum-appropriate. angel

Oh wow, I didn't expect that.

Let's just say most is rather too adult for such company.

I need a shower after reading this
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Quote
You're really on to something here. Tattoo to keep you from masturbating, chew to keep you from fornicating... it's a whole new world where you outsource your crosses. You're like a Christian entrepreneur or something.
Quote
James, you have problemz.
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« Reply #14 on: May 11, 2013, 09:22:22 PM »

Quote
I wrote this one when I was trying to expand my use of imagery in my autobiographical work.
not many write autobiographies at what, 17?
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« Reply #15 on: May 11, 2013, 09:25:03 PM »

I'm afraid it won't quite fall under the "righteous" category, but here's another translation I made of a Baudelaire poem:

To Her Who is Too Gay

Your mien, your movements, are as fair
As country fields abloom in May,
And laughter on your visage plays
Like breezes in the crystal air.
 
The sight of you’s enough to charm
Curmudgeons with the healthy glow
That with uncanny brightness flows
About your shoulders and your arms.
 
The colors that like music prance
Erratically across your dress
To poets’ dazzled souls suggest
The image of a flower dance.
 
These garish gowns all symbolize
The motley colors of your soul.
Your whimsy makes my blood run cold,
Thou, whom I worship and despise!
 
Sometimes in a garden fair
Where I have dragged my apathy,
I’ve felt the sun, like irony,
Into my helpless bosom tear,
 
And springtime’s green luxuriance
Has filled mine heart with such dismay
That I have made a flower pay
For all of Nature’s insolence.
 
In this way, one night, I’ll sneak,
When bells announce the hour of pleasure,
To where awaits your body’s treasure,
Like a thief, without a creak,
 
To castigate your joyous flesh,
Your blameless breast to lacerate,
And in your startled side create
A large and gaping crimson gash,
 
And then between, O dizzy bliss!
These newly opened lips, more fair,
More brilliant than your former pair,
I’ll pour my venom, darling sis!
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« Reply #16 on: May 11, 2013, 09:37:32 PM »

Let's see.... It's been quite some time since I've done any "proper" poetry, and very few of the song lyrics I wrote last decade are fit for printing in this forum....
But, I do have some stuff I wrote when I was about our young James' age that should be passable.

The Sages

By random chance,
The sages say,
Do atoms dance;
molecules play

If this is wisdom,
Call me a fool.
If this be freedom,
Make me a tool.

By cosmic joke,
The sages tell,
Chaos was broke;
The universe fell.

Who can trust knowledge
If all is circumstance?
What use is reason,
If there is no reason to be found?

In this, the sages find wisdom in silence.

Truth

"What is truth," he asked,
And then he searched
Distant lands, far and wide.
Not finding truth
He turned his back
And went in search of lie.

"What is truth," he asked,
And then he placed
All under his microscope.
But he found his focus
Was a little too fine;
And so he gave up hope.

"What is truth," he asked
And washed his hands,
Sending an innocent man to die.
It was lack of sin
That condemned this man
So that Truth may conquer lie.
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« Reply #17 on: May 12, 2013, 02:19:02 AM »

Wow! Thanks for the wonderful contributions. Haven't read through everything, but I'm glad that people are sharing some of their creative works here.

As for the criticism thing, I welcome honest criticisms and fair critiques, and there is plenty of that throughout this forum. I just thought that it would be nice to have a thread where people could feel free to share their creativity without having to worry about it being harshly judged and condemned. This can be a place where we can practice the "if you can't say anything nice, then don't say anything at all" principle. I think we all get enough criticism as it is.

Thanks for sharing, and please keep the works coming forth! Smiley


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« Reply #18 on: May 12, 2013, 02:25:55 AM »

What exactly is the point of people posting creative works, but no one being allowed to criticize them?  Criticism is what creates stronger authors, and it seems rather insulting to suggest that adults shouldn't be able to take honest criticism of their work.
To glorify God and to share our expressions in a variety of ways.  Unless we are professional artists, criticism can be withheld.
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« Reply #19 on: May 12, 2013, 02:56:30 AM »

What exactly is the point of people posting creative works, but no one being allowed to criticize them?  Criticism is what creates stronger authors, and it seems rather insulting to suggest that adults shouldn't be able to take honest criticism of their work.
To glorify God and to share our expressions in a variety of ways.  Unless we are professional artists, criticism can be withheld.

+ 1


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« Reply #20 on: May 12, 2013, 03:25:14 AM »

Since others have posted some poetry, here are a couple of poems from my book. I've never felt very confident about writing poetry. It seems to be such a completely subjective thing. Who really knows what good poetry is? But I think that with most creative expressions, if it's honest, it's worthwhile. So FWIW:

WHEN I BOWED

When I dropped
My mind arose
But my soul
remained unchanged
With the microdot
I saw a lot
Yet no further
Than the windowpane

But when I bowed
My heart awoke
My spirit
was unchained
Through water, Body,
Blood, and Word
My freedom
Finally came



HAUNTED

I think of you often
The child that I scarred
If indeed you survived
Or did you die?

I remember your mother
She was a “customer”
Who came to purchase
The poison I sold
And one night I noticed
Her belly was swole

And for a moment
I turned away
Unable
To keep my conscience at bay

But the laws of the block
And the loot from the rock
Were the choices I made
And thus the price you paid
An innocent babe

But don’t blame your mother
Who was chemically enslaved

Blame me
Who with volitional evil
Scorned your life
And cursed your fate

Blame me
Who did not even know
Your mother’s name

Forgive me, if you can
And know
That through eyes of my own children
You haunt me


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« Reply #21 on: May 12, 2013, 04:26:55 AM »

What I can do is write, but my material is not forum-appropriate. angel

Oh wow, I didn't expect that.

Let's just say most is rather too adult for such company.

I need a shower after reading this

Without even reading any of the material in question? Sheesh. Roll Eyes
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« Reply #22 on: May 12, 2013, 04:59:21 AM »

What I can do is write, but my material is not forum-appropriate. angel

Oh wow, I didn't expect that.

Let's just say most is rather too adult for such company.

I need a shower after reading this

Without even reading any of the material in question? Sheesh. Roll Eyes

James became a puritan  Tongue
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« Reply #23 on: May 12, 2013, 05:17:08 AM »

What I can do is write, but my material is not forum-appropriate. angel

Oh wow, I didn't expect that.

Let's just say most is rather too adult for such company.

I need a shower after reading this

Without even reading any of the material in question? Sheesh. Roll Eyes

James became a puritan  Tongue

Horrible Histories: Puritan Wife Swap

Tongue
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« Reply #24 on: May 12, 2013, 05:58:20 AM »

I want to post a little of my book, but it has nothing to do with Orthodoxy or Christianity in general.
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« Reply #25 on: May 12, 2013, 06:01:22 AM »

I want to post a little of my book, but it has nothing to do with Orthodoxy or Christianity in general.

Go ahead. Good writing is good writing. Smiley
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« Reply #26 on: May 12, 2013, 06:28:08 AM »

I want to post a little of my book, but it has nothing to do with Orthodoxy or Christianity in general.

Go ahead. Good writing is good writing. Smiley

Indeed!



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« Reply #27 on: May 12, 2013, 06:29:16 AM »

I want to post a little of my book, but it has nothing to do with Orthodoxy or Christianity in general.

Go ahead. Good writing is good writing. Smiley

Indeed!

Selam

Don't disappoint us, Kerdy.
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« Reply #28 on: May 12, 2013, 08:15:26 AM »

Ok, but keep in mind it has had no editing and I never claimed to be much of a writer.  I will post the first paragraph from one of the chapters.  Not much, but I dont want to give too much away.  I am sure this book will take a long time to finish, but over the next month or so I plan on designing at least three or four of the chapters so I can write them out.

Joy and Terror

    The afternoon was calm and peaceful with high yellow grasses performing a synchronized dance under the cool breeze.  Not far away,

several children were playing, their laughter easily heard as they engaged in a game of Lomahn, a popular child’s game having one team of

children in a circle, another team of children inside that circle, and a small sack filled with dried beans being tossed over the inner teams heads,

in the attempt to keep it from them.  The day was lazy, a perfect justification for Gaaf to enjoy his pipe as he leaned his large muscular body

against a fence he had finished just the day prior.  This year, he chose wood from the Irm tree providing more resilience against harsh weather,

for which to build the fence.  This fence, he hoped, would last him at least three winter seasons before needing repair.  Gaaf puffed blue–grey

clouds of smoke into the air from his favorite pipe, a short fat wooden monstrosity, and watched the clouds disappear into the wind toward the

playing children.  He chose this direction so he could watch the joy and excitement on their faces as they played.  After all, three of the children

were his and they all were on the same team.  
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« Reply #29 on: May 12, 2013, 08:38:31 AM »

I skipped a couple of paragraphs to add some more to give you a better feel of the direction of the chapter.  I hope you don't mind.  Again, not edited or even really revised in any way.  Just the way it came out as I typed.

     Suddenly, all of Gaaf’s senses exploded in a way he had not felt since Gilliean’s Pass.  He instantly began to study the land, examining

every tree against the forest line, every rock in the field which could hide an intruder, the houses, the barns, he looked for and found his children

playing and Prham smiling as she spoke with the other wives.  He found nothing out of the ordinary.  His muscles tensed to the point of tearing,

his heart raced, perspiration began to form on his skin.  Every natural instinct he had was commanding him to find and destroy the threat before

it attacked, but there was nothing for him to fight.  Was something there he could not see due to the injury of his scarred eye or had his

imagination gotten the best of him?  As he swirled around in circles holding the only weapon within reach, a stone he did not realize he had

picked from the ground, looking for what had caused him to spring up as if he has been bitten, his childhood friend Hurmek, who had also been

leaning against the fence smoking his pipe, spoke asking, “Gaaf, my boy, what is wrong?”  Getting no response, Hurmek touched his friend on

the shoulder resulting in Gaaf seizing Hurmek by his shirt collar, choking him, and staring into his eyes with a cold, deep seeded disgust. 

Hurmek pleaded, “Gaaf!  Please, tell me what is wrong?”   Gaaf slowly regained his senses and released Hurmek saying, “I am sorry my friend, I

do not know what is wrong.  As I was watching the children, an uncomfortable sensation consumed me.  It was a feeling I have not had in many

years, a feeling of imminent danger and despair.  I see nothing, I smell nothing, I hear nothing but that which I should.  My soul cries aloud, but

I find nothing here which is a danger to any of us.” Hurmek, attempted to calm himself as well as his friend, “Gaaf, there is nothing here to fear. 

As you said, you see, hear nor smell nothing out of the ordinary.  All of our family and friends are safe and enjoying the day.  Are you certain

you didn’t fall asleep against the fence and dream some terrible dream which you now cannot remember?”  “I suppose it is possible,” Gaaf

responded unconvincingly.  Hurmek replied, “Let’s return to the others and see how they are doing in their work.  Perhaps seeing them will easy

your mind.”  Without another word spoken, Gaaf began walking, stone still clutched in his hand.  Hurmek had never seen Gaaf this way before

and became very anxious over the experience.  He knew Gaaf was a warrior before returning to Deep Well to the life of a farmer, but this was

the first moment Hurmek realized exactly how dangerous Gaaf really was.  It was also the first time he saw him as a warrior instead of a

farmer.  Gaaf was a large man to begin with, but now Hurmek suddenly noticed Gaaf appeared to stand taller, his stature seemed larger than

before and he even moved in a way which seemed to glide over the ground rather than walk.  Hurmek was quite disturbed at the moment

wondering what could cause a man like Gaaf to act this way.  He felt a sliver of fear run up his spine.  Yes, Hurmek was quite disturbed indeed.
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« Reply #30 on: May 12, 2013, 08:53:15 AM »

We have a new Tolkien. Looks good.
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« Reply #31 on: May 12, 2013, 10:06:11 AM »

It does. It needs work on the flow, but that's the way early drafts are. Smiley
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« Reply #32 on: May 12, 2013, 11:46:23 PM »

Ok, but keep in mind it has had no editing and I never claimed to be much of a writer.  I will post the first paragraph from one of the chapters.  Not much, but I dont want to give too much away.  I am sure this book will take a long time to finish, but over the next month or so I plan on designing at least three or four of the chapters so I can write them out.

Joy and Terror

    The afternoon was calm and peaceful with high yellow grasses performing a synchronized dance under the cool breeze.  Not far away,

several children were playing, their laughter easily heard as they engaged in a game of Lomahn, a popular child’s game having one team of

children in a circle, another team of children inside that circle, and a small sack filled with dried beans being tossed over the inner teams heads,

in the attempt to keep it from them.  The day was lazy, a perfect justification for Gaaf to enjoy his pipe as he leaned his large muscular body

against a fence he had finished just the day prior.  This year, he chose wood from the Irm tree providing more resilience against harsh weather,

for which to build the fence.  This fence, he hoped, would last him at least three winter seasons before needing repair.  Gaaf puffed blue–grey

clouds of smoke into the air from his favorite pipe, a short fat wooden monstrosity, and watched the clouds disappear into the wind toward the

playing children.  He chose this direction so he could watch the joy and excitement on their faces as they played.  After all, three of the children

were his and they all were on the same team.  


Hrm. If we're going to drop books.... here's one I've been working on again/off again for a few years (as hard drives have failed and back up technology has changed since I first had the idea, I've rewritten the first few chapters a number of times). It's too lengthy to post, and excerpts wouldn't give a good feel for the flow, so here's the Google Drive link for access: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1mLcL7Q5IfvDvTipUqjreNwOTbemqIP2ui1KvBSdqWik/edit?usp=sharing
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« Reply #33 on: May 13, 2013, 04:20:15 AM »

Hokay... Here's a clean enough sample of my own writing. It's part of a collaborative effort set in the universe of George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire novels. My partner dropped off the grid and the story remained unfinished, but it remains one of my favourites.

*******

Lord Lewin’s brows knitted together again, in equal measure of puzzlement and irritation. ‘Lower your voice, Mikel,’ he said, in that tone that would brook no protest. ‘Have your wits gone wandering? Your sister has landed herself a fortune – I simply allowed it to come to pass.’ He paused and studied his son’s expression before nodding to himself. ‘Ah, I see. You think Sibyl will end up like Simeon’s first wife, don’t you? Well, don’t think about it. I knew Egwene well; her people tried to foist her on me first, after your mother…’ He shook his head, as if to clear it, and continued: ‘She was very delicate – used to sleepwalk as a girl. She should never have tried to have children. Sibyl hasn’t been down with anything worse than a chill. She’ll have a large family and live to see them grow up.’ Unlike your mother, was the unspoken coda.

‘So this is it; Lord Simeon has picked the healthier mother for his heirs, not the most suitable wife for himself,’ said Sibyl, slipping into her seat. She had come back unnoticed, changed into the gown she had had for her birthday, a berry-red silk that brought out her pale face even more spectacularly than her ivory one had. Lewin had to smother a sigh. Gods, I miss you so much, Ysabet. With you here, none of all this would be happening.

‘Foolish men marry for love that cools, or for beauty that fades,’ he said, more kindly than he intended, ‘and Lord Simeon is not foolish. He’d have you with nothing more than the clothes on your back. How many ladies marry so much above themselves, do you think? Even lady Vanis married beneath her rank. But you, daughter – as Lady Lannister, you will be second only to the Queen’s own self. And Vanis, too, but only until you give Simeon an heir. The power you’ll have will get you whatever you want.’
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« Reply #34 on: May 13, 2013, 05:06:28 AM »

The only prose that I have are sophistic declamations. An eulogy on Busiris (a pharaoh who ate his guests), an accusation of Aristides the Just, etc.
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« Reply #35 on: May 13, 2013, 06:15:41 AM »

Hrm. If we're going to drop books.... here's one I've been working on again/off again for a few years (as hard drives have failed and back up technology has changed since I first had the idea, I've rewritten the first few chapters a number of times). It's too lengthy to post, and excerpts wouldn't give a good feel for the flow, so here's the Google Drive link for access: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1mLcL7Q5IfvDvTipUqjreNwOTbemqIP2ui1KvBSdqWik/edit?usp=sharing

Pretty nice. I like lots of details.
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« Reply #36 on: May 16, 2013, 10:55:35 PM »

This is a link to the Tallamingo County Observer….a brief experiment in on line fiction I conducted back in 2006. One of my disappointments was technical, the episodes stacked on one another in reverse order and the oldest sunk to the bottom and I lacked and still lack the knowledge to make it load otherwise.  I still like the fiction, and I may yet rescue it from it's present state of near limbo…one day. As for the county of Tallamingo itself…think Mayberry meets Brigadoon.  For those who are interested, enjoy: http://tallamingo.blogspot.com. Fair warning there are a small handful of typos…I'll correct those too, one day.
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« Reply #37 on: May 24, 2013, 09:13:30 PM »

Waiting for more.......Smiley     I like it -this thread........,While I am not creative myself (rather depressing for me coming from an extremely gifted and talented family all across the board in music, written word, visual arts, etc)- I love others creativity- took me a long time to figure out someone needs to have gift of appreciation for the various crafts! 
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« Reply #38 on: May 25, 2013, 12:34:11 AM »

How'd I miss this grist for my mill? Being busy isn't fun.

Gebre, you are the Wade to my Lebron.

Can't wait to get caught up.
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