(no subject)
I have started the poem for my Creative Writing: Poetry class like five times. It has to be about a place. It's due in...three and a half hours. =|
I've tried libraries, my hometown, Rome, hell even Midgar. And I'm just drawing a ridiculous blank.
Poetry is HARD, man.
EDIT: Alright, the approaching deadline/this picture/this song combined forces and helped me to bang something out. It probably really sucks, but I can't afford to be picky at this point. Also apparently my only major attachments to places are in video games. I can't decide if this is sad or not.
Tartarus
Hell is a tower that stretches into the sky,
Cobbled together from broken shards
Of Atlantis and the Tower of Babel.
The moon bathes its jagged edges with
Sickly green light, casting shadows
That carve bloody furrows in your flesh,
And attempt to devour you, mind and soul.
The tower sighs and bleeds and moans,
Its agony sapping you of strength and will.
Death haunts every labored footstep
With the sound of chains rattling in the dark.
No exits back to the land of the living -
Only endless flights of stairs leading
Eternally up and up and up.
Run, with your own shadow clawing
At your ankles and tripping into the
Waiting arms of the reaper -
Or gather your courage and face the night.
Press the barrel against your temple,
And pull the trigger until
You see the sunlight again.
I've tried libraries, my hometown, Rome, hell even Midgar. And I'm just drawing a ridiculous blank.
Poetry is HARD, man.
EDIT: Alright, the approaching deadline/this picture/this song combined forces and helped me to bang something out. It probably really sucks, but I can't afford to be picky at this point. Also apparently my only major attachments to places are in video games. I can't decide if this is sad or not.
Tartarus
Hell is a tower that stretches into the sky,
Cobbled together from broken shards
Of Atlantis and the Tower of Babel.
The moon bathes its jagged edges with
Sickly green light, casting shadows
That carve bloody furrows in your flesh,
And attempt to devour you, mind and soul.
The tower sighs and bleeds and moans,
Its agony sapping you of strength and will.
Death haunts every labored footstep
With the sound of chains rattling in the dark.
No exits back to the land of the living -
Only endless flights of stairs leading
Eternally up and up and up.
Run, with your own shadow clawing
At your ankles and tripping into the
Waiting arms of the reaper -
Or gather your courage and face the night.
Press the barrel against your temple,
And pull the trigger until
You see the sunlight again.