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
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... which I'm sure is something you've already asked yourself, but uh. /not Englishy and fails at being helpful?
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At this point I'm staring at a picture of Tartarus and trying to write something about the Dark Hour, because that has a lot of good sensory detail that I can use, and maybe I'll score some points for fucked-uped-ness? lol. I dunno if I'll finish this one, either, but it seems to be going at least a little better than the others.
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This is my personal favorite poem about writer's block. Sylvia Plath is wonderful.
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...Lolz, that doesn't even make sense. O_O; It makes sense in my head but I can't explain it here. Uh, feel free to ignore?
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(one day I will gather my courage and write a sonnet. >.>)
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