Tell me why, tell me why you went away? Without even saying goodbye?
I don't feel like going to bed yet.
And Things have been very thought provoking the last week or so.
So i dug out my old computer and found a bunch of my old stories. A couple that I had started and never finished.
Stupid Kenny. Squashed the fun out of creative writing for me.
So after a long Hiatus, I'm hoping that I can as LEAST finish the two stories I have going on my old computer. One Bonanza, one Diagnosis Murder. I re-read what I had already for the two I'm thinking of.
Is it bad that I was kinda impressed with some of it and forgot that I wrote it?
Or that I was mad when i got to the end of what i had written for my DM story, cause I wanted to know what happened? That's bad if the author hasn't figured it out yet.
So more thinking on that.
But until then, I wanted to post something. I thought this was a neat one... I liked it when I wrote it. Our assignment was to go to the gallery and write a poem based on one of the paintings. This is what I did: Based on Max Klinger's 'Der Kunstler in der Dachstube' I'm not really sure if he's a famous artist, or what he mainly does... or anything about him, really... but this is a link to the painting. All I know is that he happened to be in the gallery at SUNY Potsdam when I had an assignment...
http://81.169.162.159/kettererkunst/kunst/picm/281/400119990.jpg <- A link to the painting...
Der Kunstler in der Dachstube
The Artist in the Attic
By Visage
My eyelids grow heavy, my mind begins to wander.
I’m tired. Oh so tired.
My head rests in my hands, my elbows on my knees.
I’m stuck. Oh so stuck.
In my memory I see vast western prairies covered with golden wheat
And brilliant mountain ranges dusted in white snow, basking in the fading sunlight.
Why can’t those images move from my head to my fingers to the canvas?
How long have I sat, staring at this blank slate?
I don’t know, I just don’t know.
Will my canvas ever match the pictures in my mind?
I hope so. Oh how I hope so.
Eh. Maybe it's not as good as I thought... but I always liked it. I'm not a bad writer... if it's not horrible or big headed of me to say so...
And if it is. Too Bad.
I'm a good writer.
I'm a DAMN good writer.
Take that.
And Things have been very thought provoking the last week or so.
So i dug out my old computer and found a bunch of my old stories. A couple that I had started and never finished.
Stupid Kenny. Squashed the fun out of creative writing for me.
So after a long Hiatus, I'm hoping that I can as LEAST finish the two stories I have going on my old computer. One Bonanza, one Diagnosis Murder. I re-read what I had already for the two I'm thinking of.
Is it bad that I was kinda impressed with some of it and forgot that I wrote it?
Or that I was mad when i got to the end of what i had written for my DM story, cause I wanted to know what happened? That's bad if the author hasn't figured it out yet.
So more thinking on that.
But until then, I wanted to post something. I thought this was a neat one... I liked it when I wrote it. Our assignment was to go to the gallery and write a poem based on one of the paintings. This is what I did: Based on Max Klinger's 'Der Kunstler in der Dachstube' I'm not really sure if he's a famous artist, or what he mainly does... or anything about him, really... but this is a link to the painting. All I know is that he happened to be in the gallery at SUNY Potsdam when I had an assignment...
http://81.169.162.159/kettererkunst/kunst/picm/281/400119990.jpg <- A link to the painting...
Der Kunstler in der Dachstube
The Artist in the Attic
By Visage
My eyelids grow heavy, my mind begins to wander.
I’m tired. Oh so tired.
My head rests in my hands, my elbows on my knees.
I’m stuck. Oh so stuck.
In my memory I see vast western prairies covered with golden wheat
And brilliant mountain ranges dusted in white snow, basking in the fading sunlight.
Why can’t those images move from my head to my fingers to the canvas?
How long have I sat, staring at this blank slate?
I don’t know, I just don’t know.
Will my canvas ever match the pictures in my mind?
I hope so. Oh how I hope so.
Eh. Maybe it's not as good as I thought... but I always liked it. I'm not a bad writer... if it's not horrible or big headed of me to say so...
And if it is. Too Bad.
I'm a good writer.
I'm a DAMN good writer.
Take that.