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Jan 30, 2011

1 Lost track of time, my stage poem

Filled with metaphors and introspection

I've lost track of time
don't know what time it is anymore, what day
don't care to know anymore, nor count my moments away

and perhaps that is why sleep calls to me, calls for me to escape
into this world without hour hands, or clocks, or dates, or days
and I'm unsure anymore, how I came to live this way

Time piled up from one day into the next
accumulating into a mess, and I watch it overflow my life like waves

Does it really matter if I keep track, number my heart and soul
in this world, gone abysmal, carrying math in my pockets like mementos
and I wonder if I will ever be the same

The same as before my days were carried into the next
when dreams divided my sins, my rage, my storage within the days
and disappeared into the next, out of phase

but at last, I am stuck here in this junk and trash
littered with bills and regrets, in this room of mine, my stage

0 Boxes of life, poem

Was going to make it longer, but decided not to- for now

Afraid of my own shadow
taps upon the glass
encased in a small world, never met to last

Dreams and, oh so many nightmares, parades outside
what a tiny heart against the boxes of life

Jan 29, 2011

0 To and Fro, poem

I am very happy with this poem, it turned out better than I expected

There are days, when a sad song belongs more so than yesterday
and a chorus of tears become a symphony
to the moment’s thoughts and hesitations

Looking into a mirror, hard to gaze upon
this broken artwork, broken for so long
and all I see are God's eyes concealed in this song

Reflective, refractive- heart radioactive
contaminating into my mind, these emotional, chemical compositions
filling my memories with these erosions of tomorrow

What's in a reflection, this dark obsession
to rip out this man before me, a drunken rage of a sea
this fury of human nature, I can not erase from me

Drowning, overcrowding, hunger for something, something over nothing
cursing and overexerting, my prayers like message bottles tossed at the floor
smashed, razor sharp teeth- hungering for more

And just like the wind, words caught on a breeze
just like a moment ago, fading away like a floating seed
we come and go, with these sails to and fro- beckoning to be free

2 Tears that cry, poem

Contrasting sides

Which is more beautiful, more temperate
the dark or light side of the moon

is there more flavor, more depth
captured in the cold glimmer of death
like the shadow of a Grim Reaper
his scythe digging deeper and deeper
lost by a flicker of light
outside of our dimension of sight

or is it the light, the shimmer
everything revealed for its worth,
whether perverse or of splendor
withering in our eyes, wilting in the reflections
no mystery in the obsessions

like a lover with a heart
made of pages, of paper, of link, unable to hide
to secretly think
to divide between emotions within a blink

unable to lie, lay armor upon
the tears that cry, weight equaling a song
in this world of black and white

P.S. Hope you enjoy, I just wrote this- felt good to write something new for a change.

0 Writer's block regarding poetry, lately

Just to post something

I know I haven't posted anything lately- not even a quote; I kinda hit a dry-spell. Been having a lot of stress lately, I need to have more faith in God: I came to notice- don't we all (or at least those who believe in God). I wanted to make a post though, about how I will try to come up with something new in the near future. Perhaps a poem if I can think one up.

Well, that is all for now, take care!

Jan 27, 2011

0 Site for unpublished writers

By Adam Charles (Director of Blogger

For me, and maybe for you too, admitting to being an unpublished writer is sort of a little bit
like admitting to having contracted some disease in some bizarre circumstance. However,
here I am, admitting to the wonderful readership of this blog that I am an unpublished writer;
further to this that I'm proud of it too. This feels good, cathartic almost, like my first night at
Writer’s Anonymous.

I’m enthralled by literature, and always have been. I’ve learnt about myself over the years that
the gratuitous acts of writing and reading just do it for me.

So, a few years ago I decreed that no longer would I watch from afar, no more would I be
content with reading, I wanted to become part of the writing world, a world where ideas and
images conjured by language are king. With my mission confirmed I set down to diligently
sketch out a story that had been bouncing around in my head for a decade. It went well, the
words flowed, my pen moved effortlessly and almost supernaturally across the page: I was
fulfilling my dream of writing.

I reached a fair point, some 35,000 words and had judiciously self-edited a few times. I
decided that it was time to send off my baby to be critiqued by those in the know to see if my
delusions had any substance. I packaged up the first few chapters, bought a load of stamps
and envelopes to send to publishing industry bodies.

I waited and I waited and finally they started to return home to me.

I opened the first one with adolescent enthusiasm, tearing it open. Sadly, all that was
contained inside was the returned, unmarked, extracts I had sent and a standard rejection
note on a tiny complements slip. I, however, was not deterred. I posted off another batch of
submissions. The curse of the standard rejection letter continued.

Were they even reading it? Surely they could pass some kind of judgement? Surely I could
get more feedback than this? Doubt began to creep in, maybe I’d never know.

After three batches of submissions I coalesced. I didn’t know whether I had something
entertaining - even interesting - to say or if I should just stick to reading other people’s ideas
and give up on my dream. I wasn’t upset or disappointed, I just wanted to know whether it
was me or the system that had cast me aside.

Research followed into all the facets of the agencies, editing, and publishing process.

A couple of years ago I eventually hit upon an idea. If the professionals can’t tell me, then
how can technology help me and people like me to find out whether our work is any good?
I trawled the internet but couldn’t find anything that I could use for these objectives. This is
where the first seed began to grow for our new website -

In 2010 we began building out this idea; the seed began to germinate. An online community
for unpublished writers by unpublished writers. A democratic cyber-city where writers can
upload, sell, and receive ratings and reviews on their hard work. Where unpublished writers
can sell their passion for writing as well as their stories. A place where readers can provide
direct feedback direct to writers, have access to them and become part of the writing process.
A brave new world in the dynamic between unpublished writers and readers everywhere.

After all, the only way to know if what you’ve written is any good is to have other people read

We successfully launched our Registration Page in December 2010 and are now looking to
launch the full site during the first few months of 2011.

You can register now to be given pre-launch access to the site to upload your work before
anyone else and you’ll also be automatically entered our competition to win an eReader at the
site’s full launch.

We Look forward to seeing you on our website soon.

Visit us for more details at:

Jan 26, 2011

0 Love reading creative writing?

You will love this blog

Check out this blog, read some posts, and comment about what you think or would like to see!

Hope to catch you later!

Jan 25, 2011

0 What do you (readers) want to see more of?

Please share

What would you like to see more of on this blog?

Thanks for your feedback.

0 Going to try and write a novel- Do I have what it takes?

Comment Minions, lol

My goal is to write a novel, hopefully sometime soon. And, hopefully, I will write one within a short period and become successful :) What do you think of my writing ability from the blog? Do I have what it takes.

Might write it with my fiancée, as a bonding and creative experience.

Jan 24, 2011

0 Fleeting Dreams Quote

How fleeting they are

It is funny, dreams are fleeting just as much awake as while sleeping

Jan 23, 2011

0 Quote on Intelligence

Something to ponder

No matter how intelligent you are, you can't think of everything.

Jan 17, 2011

0 Price of Standing Quote

For those to consider, when pondering what to do

The price of standing entitles the price of falling down

0 Hard life quote

From the heart

Life just has to be hard for those with easy hearts

Jan 14, 2011

0 Being Quiet Quote

Thoughts on being human

Being quiet can be painful when you finally show your voice

Jan 2, 2011

0 My Hypothesis on Society and Their Children

Something to ponder, yet again

This is my hypothesis: The more mature and wise you are before you have children- the more intellectual and productive society will become. And the opposite is of course true as well. I think that our diminished values and destructive society branches off from our inability to care about the responsibly of creating life- the due process it deserves. People don't seem to think of it as sacred anymore. They don't plan it, nor do they seem to care about the consequences and ramifications of what they teach- nor put any thought into teaching their offspring their own values.
Of course, children can still learn on their own and grow into decent individuals; But, I think it's wide and in-between in actuality.
Well these are my thoughts for you to ponder.

0 Happy New Years! to the one or two passerby that actually find this blog

Hope you have a good New Year!

Well, I don't have any New Year's resolutions and I never do- I do have goals that never get achieved, that just carries on into the new year... Well, if you want to share your New Year's resolutions with me- by all means, would love to see them in the comments. Take care

Jan 1, 2011

0 Nothing is everything, quote

Something to ponder

When you have nothing- a small thing is everything, and when you have everything- a small thing is nothing