[Lawtan]

Here is a forum where I will be posting writings (outside of Roleplay and other things) and my "newbie" strides into arts.
I'll also try to get some things out of my system.
Feel free to constructively critique.
I would like to be able to one day be an artist, writer, craftsman, and coder...and other things. This is here to try to help me practice and learn, so feel free to push me, critique my work, and challenge me.

I'll "flair" this page up when I know what I should do with it...


Categories:
World Building
Fith-Fath (fee-faw)
Song of Infinity (Or, Infinite Regression, or MolSong...working on name)

Characters

Fan Poetry

Epic Poetry
Ugaritic Work 1

Philosophical Poetry

Therapy (Likely Messed Up)
A Monster Named Anxiety

[Lawtan]

Umm...could anyone either
A) give feedback - It is better for people to call me/my work a "rotten pile of festering dog cud" rather than nothing...
or
B) Help me organize this better so I can remember to take time for this. (Essentially, message me if I am on to say "Hey, when's the next piece?")

[Espy]

Oh. You might want to put something in the title saying that critiquing or posting in here is fine, or people might assume this is your own personal writing thread.

[Lawtan]

Umm...how do I change the name here?

[Espy]

EDIT first post, then ADVANCED.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

I actually had a big long reply written up... then I backspaced and lost the whole thing. :|

Will try to do another one when I less grumpy about it. :P

[Lawtan]

*Hugs everyone on Tris*
I'll likely have pics up tomorrow. (Finally getting body/head to look...less cartoony...)

[Espy]

Whoo! I haven't done much drawing, myself.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Okay, I promised to get back to you about this, here it goes.

First off, poetry is very difficult to critique, it's almost entirely subjective as to what's "good" (though what's bad is a bit more unanimous).

Second, credit for not writing mopey narcissistic emo diary poetry. :P

Third, the rhythm is throwing me in places. I can't tell if it's just a form I'm not familiar with, or it's inconsistent, cause there's some really well-flowing lines, like,

One day was clear, searingly so,

"Oh Spirits, we shall surely die,

Which are perfect pentameter and read really powerfully, but some of the others feel "off" in comparison, like,

Five-and-sixty they set adrift, with great Solaris blazing,

Which just feeling overlong to the surrounding lines.

But no, it's definitely workable. It's clearly epic in nature, if anything I think there should be more of it.

(If you have any prose stories, I'm much better at critiquing those. :P)

[Lawtan]

This started as a prose, but it has changed to be more...like the epics of yore...
Yes, there is more
*coughs* when I don't have midterms breathing down my neck.

[Quiet Man Cometh]

You did get the 'epic' feel down, I think. Whenever I see things that looks like free verse I immediately read to see if it falls into the "prose with line breaks" trap, which you don't do here, so kudos to you for that. :).

[Lawtan]

Oh what a world,
These colorful forms,
The rocks that talk and listen!

I can’t talk to rocks?
What hogwash is this…they speak my language
Unlike you.

I…have to act like others,
I have to be normal, or I will be alone,
I have to become something else.

I give up my hooks,
My interests…now on what is expected,
I am getting faster, but so behind…

I am ahead for once,
Oh yes – I shall learn to fight,
I shall lead where I once followed,
This mask is mine.

I serve well, do I not?
And shouldn’t life should be better,
But you still want more, my brain, my books, my hands, my self

Gods, the mask broke!
I have failed, and am thus damned – I will be left behind,
I must cut and flee…flee a home in flames, a tattered life,

I am in a loop now,
I don’t understand why I can’t outrun it…
I don’t know who I am…

I hate the shattered mask in hand,
It ruined life for real-me,
Should I die now, failing at happiness,
Or should I be a Fury towards those who helped forge it?

I'll need to keep my mask for now,
The Hounds remain at my heels...
The true self remains too young and undeveloped to thrive on its own...
But I must survive!

Sorry...writers block right now...also homework, so you get poems instead.

[Lawtan]

And yes, all of these suck, but I've been trying to improve...

[Espy]

Your skulls are looking rather flat. Have you considered printing out a very light/outline of a skull and drawing over that?

[Lawtan]

Rurik from Eschaton. Yes, he is supposed to look sleeker and more friendly dog-like...


This + That

[Lawtan]

Through the window, the air looked clear, and the sun shone in. One would not have expected the void of warmth the air possessed this morning, except for the tile floor. The floor almost pulled your foot with its hunger for heat. Putting on a mute grey light coat - weaved with its mix of fuzz and fibers - I opened the see-through door with a creeeak, and immediately felt the heat in my hand fade. As I walked, my nose having lost most feeling a month ago, my lungs choked on the cold air. Then, I heard a crunch, as if I were walking on frostbit grass and frozen dirt-water. I was nowhere near the grass, so what caused such a sound? Looking down, I was surprised - the black doormat itself had frosted over, the fibers stiff. I concluded that it was chilly outside today, and hugged my Swiss jacket all the tighter.

Description of this morning.