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Writers' Corner


Ruan Chun Xian

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"Where writers unite."

That sounds corny. Whatever.

Anyway. Lc and I love to write. One of the ambitions of our lives is to publish a book (separately, not together). So we thought we needed a place here to talk about our writing and consequently see how many other writers we have here.

So do you write? This is the place to share your works, maybe get some constructive criticism or comments, or just talk about your writing habits.

To be totally honest, I can be extremely defensive and insecure about my writing, so I don't show them around too much, but I occasionally do. And when I do, it's either because I think it's pretty darn good, or it was written to be shared or is enough of a laugh for me to share around. (I'm trying to change that mindset a bit by the way. :D ). Right now, though, most of my writing revolve around fanfiction, but I do have an idea for an original work in my mind. I sometimes write poetry, where I ramble a lot and where it's more like stream of consciousness writing than poetry. For some odd reason, even though I'm more fluent in English than I am in Vietnamese (yes...pityful, I know, considering it's my mother-tongue) I seem to write better poetry in Vietnamese. I don't know why. :D (The excerpt in my sig is from a poem I wrote btw, if you happen to understand it. ;) ) But I can't write good prose to save my life in Viet though. :D

So what do you write?

(We should get whisperedangel here...she writes! Oooh and Bandev writes really good poetry, I know that! :D )

A poem I wrote in 2005 (thus the date in the title). Read into it whatever you want :) .

Sunflower, Sunflower (2005)

Sunflower, sunflower,

I gaze at you

you gaze at him (the sun).

While I wonder at your beauty

you yearn to be with him,

tracing his path across the sky,

tracing his every step,

days in, days out,

only to droop at night.

Yet,

you must know that you can never get there,

no more than I can ever get there.

No.

His kingdom is not your palace

for it is too far

and he too cruel.

He is the king of fire,

and fire burns.

One does not reach out for fire.

No.

Not when the inevitable consequence is hurt.

It is safer to be an observer (is it?)

because reaching in would mean a heartbreak.

But I, I can't be like you, sunflower.

I can't stay in my place

and trace his steps.

I do not have your patience

and self control.

I reached in for the fire,

only to get burnt.

Yet in it, was deeply satisfying.

I found myself.

@Bio-Aqua (below): I guess I wouldn't be able to read your work then. :P Any chance of a translation? :D

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Hello HMS and everyone,

Well I'm a big fan of writing and reading at the same time. :D I kind of stopped for sometime now because of the IB and studying (though writing essays in the IB is so much fun ;) ). I used to write children's stories about 4 years ago, then turned to poetry and then short stories. The problem is, you can't seem to finish it, and even when you do, it ends up there on the shelf.. There are two novels I have in mind; one is an expose (the french "e" at the end) of humanity.. kind of complicated kind of similar to Orwell's "Animal Farm ", while the other is similar to the life of Jane Eyre. I have a plan for the latter, all with names of characters, chapters, plot, themes and everything else, but haven't got the time to write it. Maybe when I finish the IB (hopefully :D ). You guys will be the first to read it; if you understand Arabic that is. :D

As for reading to others, I get what you mean. It's true actually and I don't go around reading to everyone.. It's my mom I guess, and my teachers (when I used to be a junior. Ah.. Good times back then, :D .

What a beautiful poem.. Love the symbolism, it's what grabs attention and mesmerises me :P . It's a great one you got there, HMS!

Ah well I'll try to translate it anyways, when I get done from it that is :) .

That's it.. Have a nice day everyone. :D

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Great poem HMS, a lot better than the one I got today in my English practise exam.

I may as wel post one of my poems. Oh also for anyone who wants to improve the poetry a really good book to read is "The Ode less travelled" by Stephen Fry, I have only read about 50 pages so far and it has been really good, and one of my friends whois very critical really enjoyed it.

Anyway here it is I wrote pretty quickly a couple of weeks ago still needs a bit of editing:

EDIT: I took away the poem because it quite ****, really **** and needs a lot more work actually.

Edited by Bandev
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Oooh! Me!! I love writing!! :D Have any of you done NaNoWriMo?? I completed it in 11 days. ;)

HMS and Bandev, your poems are both really good! I could totally see IB kids studying them. :P

I haven't written much lately because of school work, but I find it very relaxing. I want to write a television series one day. :D All my writing idols are TV script writers.

Here, I'll post a poem I wrote when I was 10. :D

I have a homework machine at home,

a dog: his name is Fred.

He doesn't do my homework,

but he rips it up instead.

I never do my homework,

I always just have fun.

So when I go to school next day,

my homework's never done.

My teacher asks, "Where is your homework?

I'm going to have a fit!

If you don't fix that dog of yours,

I will get rid of it!"

I didn't do my homework,

so now my dog is gone.

And now I have to do my homework: boring!

What a yawn.

There is a lesson learned in this,

and this I truly mean.

Never try to do your homework

with a furry homework machine.

... 10, people. Let's all be kind. :D

Caitlin [word stylist]

Edited by Caitlin
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HMS and Bandev, your poems are both really good! I could totally see IB kids studying them.

I'm flattered. Really, I am. :D

Bandev: I love the poem. I thought these lines were particularly good:

Only to turn to the mirror,

To mirror the mirror.

Because it's after these lines that the image and reality switched place.

Falling fluttering failing fading flagging

Awesome use of alliteration here. The "f" sound makes him sound quite insignificant I think. Sort of like Pfff sort of noise. :P

Haha Caitlin: It's cute. ;) Lesson well learnt. :D:D I remebere when I was 10 my ESL class (yes, back when I was taking ESL) wrote a book called "The best excuses for not doing homework" or something like that, this reminded me of it.

I've heard of NaNoWriMo of course but never tried it though I think if I came up with a good and inspiring enough idea, I'll finish it quite soon as well too. A friend of mine on Xanga blog came up with this challenge, called the 12 Poems Challenge. Basically each day you write a line of poem, and then at the end of the month you have a poem that's got as many lines as the number day of the months, and at the end of the year, you have a collection of 12 poems that's your diary for the year. It's a really good idea but I could never keep it up. I can't write poetry fragmented like that so I never tried. :D

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Oooh! Me!! I love writing!! :D Have any of you done NaNoWriMo?? I completed it in 11 days. :D

HMS and Bandev, your poems are both really good! I could totally see IB kids studying them. :P

I haven't written much lately because of school work, but I find it very relaxing. I want to write a television series one day. :D All my writing idols are TV script writers.

Here, I'll post a poem I wrote when I was 10. ;)

I have a homework machine at home,

a dog: his name is Fred.

He doesn't do my homework,

but he rips it up instead.

I never do my homework,

I always just have fun.

So when I go to school next day,

my homework's never done.

My teacher asks, "Where is your homework?

I'm going to have a fit!

If you don't fix that dog of yours,

I will get rid of it!"

I didn't do my homework,

so now my dog is gone.

And now I have to do my homework: boring!

What a yawn.

There is a lesson learned in this,

and this I truly mean.

Never try to do your homework

with a furry homework machine.

... 10, people. Let's all be kind. :D

Caitlin [word stylist]

10? wow! hehe I can see this on an English A1 paper 1 exam :D

I can also see the faces of the students taking it.. I think it would be something like : :)

tehee

but really good job for a 10 year old dude!

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Guest JustinaW

I had been extremely passionate about writing for a long time (when I was younger instead of my parents reading to me I dictated stories to them). Lately I haven’t had much time for writing, but I do have one poem that I wrote for my English class last year: (I'm honestly not too sure how I feel about it, its a little depressing compared to what I usually do)

He is a chaser,

Just like for my liquor,

Can’t keep it down

Won’t you get up.

Its more than a feeling

An age of bad reason

Its time to depend on

This broken glass cup

Oh take me away to

The stars and the streamers

The trays and the platters

The sins of my life

The smoke covered hazed fog

That darken the shadows

The green liquidation

Of all that was truth

I’m not just a monster

No guns in my holster

Just a straw in my right hand

And a spoon in the left

So won’t you just chase me

Through the hills and the valleys

The depths of euphoria

The gallows of life

The last drop of heaven

The door to my freedom

The high flying logic

The burnt out truth

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it's not really that depressing :P I mean I could sense some desperation in some part of it, but generally it sounded a bit wise to me especially this part:

"Its more than a feeling

An age of bad reason"

I like the way you transformed the literal image here to a figurative one later in the stanza:

"So won’t you just chase me

Through the hills and the valleys

The depths of euphoria

The gallows of life"

I can see that you really meant that you'd want to be chased by him all around the world "through the hills and valleys", but on the other hand you'd rather be chased by him althrough your life instead. So it's actually the time which he chases you which is important. As it would take him ages to chase you through mountains and valleys, maybe even as long as it would take him to chase you in the "gallows of life"

oka I feel like writing a commentary now :D talk about missing English class :lol:

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Guest JustinaW
oka I feel like writing a commentary now :P talk about missing English class :lol:

Commentaries were my favorite, and I almost miss writing them...I run about 20 commentaries through my head a day...

Writing a book! I wish I had that much commitment...I've tried a few times but I would eventually lose interest.

(She then slowly felt herself rising out of the hole that was her dream. ) << I really enjoyed that description of waking up/or otherwise leaving the dream...It makes you able to relive those moments for yourself...

Good luck on the rest of it, a friend of mine is writing a book as well and he is forever complaining about the things that he runs into as he is writing it.

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Commentaries were my favorite, and I almost miss writing them...I run about 20 commentaries through my head a day...

Writing a book! I wish I had that much commitment...I've tried a few times but I would eventually lose interest.

(She then slowly felt herself rising out of the hole that was her dream. )

Good luck on the rest of it, a friend of mine is writing a book as well and he is forever complaining about the things that he runs into as he is writing it.

oh thx :lol:

and yea I complain about writer's block all the time :P what I actually have right now is bits and peices from various chapters! I can't seem to write it chronologically... I just write things that spring into mind at any moment and place it somewhere in the book :D

I'm going to try and connect everything together in the end.. though I doubt I'd be done with it anytime soon.. maybe by the end of next year... though I wanted to finish it before I started Uni :P

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Guest JustinaW
oh thx :lol:

and yea I complain about writer's block all the time :P what I actually have right now is bits and peices from various chapters! I can't seem to write it chronologically... I just write things that spring into mind at any moment and place it somewhere in the book :D

I'm going to try and connect everything together in the end.. though I doubt I'd be done with it anytime soon.. maybe by the end of next year... though I wanted to finish it before I started Uni :P

I seem to write everything in bits and out of order aswell, thank god for computers...I'm sure we would run into trouble if we still were using typewriters

I wouldn't worry too much about not finishing in the next year...just finishing in general is something to be proud of

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I seem to write everything in bits and out of order as well, thank god for computers...I'm sure we would run into trouble if we still were using typewriters

I wouldn't worry too much about not finishing in the next year...just finishing in general is something to be proud of

yea you're probably right, I mean I don't want to force myself to finish it and end up with a bad novel which is just done :lol:

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Justina: That was an amazing poem. I saw it as you put it up but I was too tired to read and comment properly considering it was some wee hour in the morning. Agree with Lc about those 2 extracts though.

"So won’t you just chase me

Through the hills and the valleys

The depths of euphoria

The gallows of life"

My favourite stanza, I think. :P

Anyway, yes I can sense some depression in the beginning, but I can also sense some hope at the end, with:

The last drop of heaven

The door to my freedom

The high flying logic

The burnt out truth

Maybe it's a bit of a bittersweet hope, because the "door to freedom" is connected with the harsh reality of truth and cold logic...but it is some hope. That's how I see it anyway.

Enter Sandman:

"Brom roamed to a home in Rome

And that's my poem."

Haha, talk about short and sweet. Well, I love the rhyming. :D

Lc:

Not from the beginning though, at the very end.

I like this. It's simple. But it shows the truth so well. Sometimes we take people so for granted, especially those close to us, and it is only at the end, when we lose them that we start to devote all our thoughts to them. I don't mean take for granted as in ignore and don't appreciate them, but to just be comfortable enough around them to never realise that one day you may lose them. It's a sense of denial, in a way.

“You know” he started, looking up. “I have your health”

...

so she decided to scream out “I miss you” in her head instead; because that was really the only thing she wanted to tell him, ever since she got that text message stating: “Ruwayd is dead.”

I stand by what I said. He'll be fine if you'll be fine. And I think (hope) that you'll be better now that you've had your chance to say goodbye. Even if it was just a dream. :D *goes add hug smiley*> :lol:

Call me a dreamer :P but really sometimes I have dreams so real that I wonder whether they've really happened. Or I wake up and think they've really happened and then something else happen to make me realise and smack myself that it was just a dream.

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The Eruption (July 2003)

pain of death

heat of anger

hurt from loss

all bubble close to the surface

ready to rise, ready to burst

like a volcano, ready to erupt

fountains of lava spat through

shattering the barriers of tranquillity.

Where had the innocence gone?

Where is that carefree happiness

that made up a little boy?

A boy yet one bearing the world on his shoulders

so much hurt and so much pain.

All was pressed on him, bestowed on him

responsibility, hurt, pain, and all suffering he never should have to bear

His childhood was denied of him –

it should have been spent in love, affection and happiness

was full of anguish, betrayal, and hate.

Lost innocence.

Can you blame him when it became all too much?

When he can no longer bear it all

When he finally burst

like a volcano erupting.

All his anger, pain and frustration…

the boiling liquid of lost innocence…

come erupting like a fountain of boiling volcanic emission.

--

I'll give you three guesses of who I was writing about. The date has some significance. :lol:

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Guest JustinaW
The Eruption (July 2003)

pain of death

heat of anger

hurt from loss

all bubble close to the surface

ready to rise, ready to burst

like a volcano, ready to erupt

fountains of lava spat through

shattering the barriers of tranquillity.

Where had the innocence gone?

Where is that carefree happiness

that made up a little boy?

A boy yet one bearing the world on his shoulders

so much hurt and so much pain.

All was pressed on him, bestowed on him

responsibility, hurt, pain, and all suffering he never should have to bear

His childhood was denied of him –

it should have been spent in love, affection and happiness

was full of anguish, betrayal, and hate.

Lost innocence.

Can you blame him when it became all too much?

When he can no longer bear it all

When he finally burst

like a volcano erupting.

All his anger, pain and frustration…

the boiling liquid of lost innocence…

come erupting like a fountain of boiling volcanic emission.

--

I'll give you three guesses of who I was writing about. The date has some significance. :lol:

Very powerful poem..But I cannot even begin to guess who it was about

As for dreams, I agree...I love to dream

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I would have never guessed that :lol: I was about to go google when the tsumani/sept 11-twin towers incident had occurred to make sure you weren't talking about those :D

yes yes I know when they both happened! lol but I just wanted to make sure :P

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