amonkie

Welcome to another week ... and our challenge brought to us by zz0011 :





I've noticed a decline in participation, myself and other regulars included. I can make this challenge the last one of the year, if others would like a chance to focus on the other things during this busy time, and recharge to start the year strong. Let me know ...

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Calling from deep in the heart, from where the eyes can't see and the ears can't hear, from where the mountain trails end and only love can go... ~~~ Three Rivers Hare Krishna

pan6467

Let's see an improv poem ...... (cracking of knuckles, wheel chair closer..... look at clock... 8:36 and begin....)

There is a dark house upon the hill
Where they say the former owner haunts it still
People have ventured to its gates but only one ever crossed over
For the fear strikes them the second they try
They say from those gates they see a crimson sky
And a smell of death's strong pungent odor

The house lurks over the valley below
And when there is a death it seems to smile and laughter it seems to bellow
They say the owner raised raven
And that they were trained to attack
The man was more than just a miser
That a murderer, thief and rapist he gave haven
They said his autopsy showed he had a heart that was coal black

There is a story of a wanderer who ventured up to the house
And crossed through the gates silent as any mouse
His goal was to see what so many feared
His goal was to show that with crossing one wouldn't die
So he kissed his wife and children goodnight
And into the gates he disappeared
They say he told them his secret was that for the curse he'd be to sly

The story says the rains did pour
And that the sun never shown till day numbered 4
That nothing ventured outside
For noone wanted to catch the house's eye
Screams they heard at night coming from that house on the hill
That for fear half the town died
Then the sun came and a raven circling the house they saw fly

Noone knows if the story is true
But dearest reader I warn you
Don't go by the house on the hill
Don't even gaze upon it with your eye
For the townspeople know evil lies there
And death waits still
But should you venture close enough, you can hear a man cry, "Blood and death are waiting like a raven in the sky"


8:56 not bad 9:01 with edits

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I just love people who use the excuse "I use/do this because I LOVE the feeling/joy/happiness it brings me" and expect you to be ok with that as you watch them destroy their life blindly following. My response is, "I like to put forks in an eletrical socket, just LOVE that feeling, can't ever get enough of it, so will you let me put this copper fork in that electric socket?"

pan6467

Is the above pretty ok? Came out very Poe-esque.

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I just love people who use the excuse "I use/do this because I LOVE the feeling/joy/happiness it brings me" and expect you to be ok with that as you watch them destroy their life blindly following. My response is, "I like to put forks in an eletrical socket, just LOVE that feeling, can't ever get enough of it, so will you let me put this copper fork in that electric socket?"

amonkie

It is from your mind ... that is what matters. And I can't help it, but I put your poem to an imaginary Beatles beat

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Calling from deep in the heart, from where the eyes can't see and the ears can't hear, from where the mountain trails end and only love can go... ~~~ Three Rivers Hare Krishna

pan6467

Lol yes it came from my warped mind...... scary the thoughts I can have at times....

Hmmmm a Beatles tune..... after you wrote that I've been trying but the tune I find it comes closest to is Eric Burdon and the Animals version of "House of the Risin Sun" or a Dr. Suess book......

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I just love people who use the excuse "I use/do this because I LOVE the feeling/joy/happiness it brings me" and expect you to be ok with that as you watch them destroy their life blindly following. My response is, "I like to put forks in an eletrical socket, just LOVE that feeling, can't ever get enough of it, so will you let me put this copper fork in that electric socket?"

Eweser

It crept along on silent feet, stalking the lamb through the trees. The mountain lion hadn't had a meal in days, and the cub back in the den was crying in hunger when she left it an hour ago. As she gets closer to her prey, blood and death are waiting like a raven in the sky. She is almost ready to pounce, just a little closer. She leaps, the muscles in her body quivering. As she strangles the lamb by slowly tightening her jaws, she is relieved that she, and her cub, will make it a few more days.

This is my first time to participate in the writing challenge. I hope this meets the requirements and I realize it's not great, or even good, but I enjoyed the opportunity to use my imagination.

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"Whoever wrote this episode should die!"

pan6467

Very good, I like the detail and description.

Absolutely poetic narrative.

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I just love people who use the excuse "I use/do this because I LOVE the feeling/joy/happiness it brings me" and expect you to be ok with that as you watch them destroy their life blindly following. My response is, "I like to put forks in an eletrical socket, just LOVE that feeling, can't ever get enough of it, so will you let me put this copper fork in that electric socket?"

msh58

will be back when i'm depressed to try it. spew some dark mess

vanblah

Blood and death are waiting like a raven in the sky. But it's not the raven that will get to you ... it's the humidity. Blood and death were waiting like some twisted and sinewy cloud up in the heavens. Some people called them snow clouds--others called them abominations. Is it the blood or the death that is like a raven? I can never remember; and why are they in the sky? Is it the final polluted sunset on an era already past it's prime? We are due for some cataclysmic event ... or so I hear.

This old guy, Suggs, took a long, slow drag on someone else's cigarette that he'd found in the gutter. The taste reminded him of a long-ago time when he'd been somebody important. But things kept going wrong. Nothing he did ever got finished. He began to realize that it wasn't just coincidence that nothing ever worked out for him. It was always the product of the unseen group of people that lurked in his past and future--but never the present. They were far too clever to lurk in the present.

Suggs sauntered down the street ever weary of the blood and death hovering sometimes inches, sometimes miles, in the sky above him. Better to get it over with now, he thought. But those weren't his thoughts. Those thoughts belonged to the raven. Get it over with, it shouted, or rather screeched. Suggs only puffed harder at the ever shortening cigarrette. He smiled and looked over his shoulder.

I know you, Suggs thought. You just keep your distance. I won't pay you no mind.

Suggs' life went on despite the raven. Sometimes he coughed and farted when people in nice suits walked by. That was always good for a laugh. It made the clouds of blood recede for a second or two. He didn't do it all the time though. That would be rude.

"Damn," Suggs would say to no one in particular, "this humidity's a bitch."

AlmoundJoy18

van, I have to say I like this. For a second I wasn't sure where it was going, but that only made me want to read it more to find out where it was going. I like how it twists and turns and leaves some things for the imagination to figure out, but other things it makes perfectly clear. I also like how your style changes throughout it. The first section seems mysterious and dark, but as it develops I think it becomes more sarcastic than dark. I like it. thumbs up. There is one part I think you should consider re-arranging, though. I think it would flow better if you switched the words "rather" and "screeched." But, of course, that's just nit picky stuff. Good job.

__________________
Skin-tight jeans
Hair dyed red
Ruby lips
Smokey eyes
She's the mask
For your masquerade

vanblah

Thanks AlmoundJoy ... Suggs is a character I write about sometimes. One day maybe I'll actually trascribe it from hand-written notebooks and post some of them here.

I've been accused of being sarcastic and dark before.

One thing about writing that most people overlook is the "editing" part. We tend to become myopic about our own art ... so the observation and suggestion you made is very appreciated. Art usually gets better when collaboratibg.

Actually, that might be an interesting writing exercise. Take a short character sketch--such as the one I wrote above-- and have other TFP'ers completely re-write it. In any style. I'd love to see someone turn THAT into a poem, or an upbeat love-story or something.

Anyone game? In another thread of course.

AlmoundJoy18

Well, I wouldn't take it as an accusation per say. I think it is more of a compliment than anything. I like sarcastic. I like dark.

The re-write thing sounds really cool, btw.

__________________
Skin-tight jeans
Hair dyed red
Ruby lips
Smokey eyes
She's the mask
For your masquerade

xepherys

I guess I should give this thread a try...

-------

"Sorrow and pain are wading through the fields like a lion on the prowl", said the old lady, pondering the soldiers wandering out of the plains and into her town. She kept her children close, the youngest nearly hiding beneath her dress.

Her small town was not unlike the others nearby. People fleeing from the larger cities had already worked their way through here as they scrambled to get deeper into the country. The men often left their wives and children in towns just like this, where they could come back to find them when the terror had subsided.

It had already been a month since the first firefights broke out. The enemy had come across the border with a fury unseen through the history of mankind. The violence was so immediate and so intense that even seasoned soldiers could hardly believe what was occuring. Trained men fumbled about to bear their arms and find others with whom they could work together. Before dawn, the first city already lay in waste and only enough men had escaped to warn other cities and towns down the road.

Now, in the heart of autumn, it was hard to notice the beauty of the colored leaves that had fallen about her families small home. Her husband, the father of her children, was packing his most essential items in a hurried fashion. As he brushed past her he stopped, his face pale, his hands trembling.

"Blood and death are waiting like a raven in the sky, " he said, almost out of breath. The faint rumble of large planes could be heard in the distance.

He embraced his wife and children. He held them tightly, like a man who knew he would never see his loved ones again. He picked up his bag and stpped out the door. Before he could make it to the end of the road he let out a yell. His wife came to him and peered in the direction he pointed. The planes were quite visible now, and they were large. As the bombs fell, it was hard not to see beauty in the fatal dance they performed. Like tousands of wobbling metal raindrops they slowly tumbled through the sky. As they began to hit the ground, the sound was like poetry to the people in that town. It was a rythmic song and dance that surely spelled their demise.

tecoyah

I see only the dark form of your soul
Black bitch hiding in these faded corners
would that my heart could deny you entrance
keep your stare from making all I am cold
there is no depth beyong which you control
no hiden closet protectin small heated organs
and so this chill take hold of everything I behold
making the new dawn feel ancient and myself old
Blood and death are waiting like a raven in the sky
staring my broken soul down into shattered forms
making a weakness of what love is left in my husk
heat of my passion, long ago eaten by your decaying nature
Die with my pain.....as I fall to your desire...fucking bitch

__________________
Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. - Buddha

cellophanedeity

I thought I'd write a new creation myth...

===

Blood and Death are waiting
Like a raven in the sky
Life bringer, life taker
Waiting for their pie
Though they've never
Baked together
I guess they thought they'd try

First death lays flat the crust
To simulate cold earth
He pounds and rolls and flattens
Achieving endless girth
Death bows his head
And here the dead
Are judged upon their worth

Blood creates the filling
Out of sweet and sticky root
He fills with life and patience
With a thick syrup base of truth
Blood blesses his deed
and here those who bleed
are bubbling warm with fruit

As the filling is poured
Death eyes his brother's creation
Spreading his cold flat earth
With life and love and elation
Death blinks an eye
and covers the pie
With the dough of his vocation

Blood sees now his filling
is enveloped by cold earth
The end of his brother's reign
not visible within this girth
blood bows his head
knowing out the dead
Oft arises birth

Blood and Death are waiting
Like a raven in the sky
Life bringer, life taker
Waiting for their pie
Though they've never
Baked together
I guess they thought they'd try



Note: When I was looking up ravens, I learned that most of their lives are spent waiting to/actually mating. Thought it made for an interesting twist of symbolism

tecoyah

Damn good writting Cell.....impressive

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Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. - Buddha

cellophanedeity

Thanks tec! I'm glad I have the approval of a master!

Poppinjay

Random Musings from Crazy People At The Tenlytown Metro Exit:

The Jews are to blame for 911!

The government took my dog!

Brianna call me!

Blood and Death are waiting like a raven in the sky!

Baal is rising in January!

Eaaaghhhhh!

Toxins are in the water!

Slavery is the way of the Lord!

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I think the Apocalypse is happening all around us. We go on eating desserts and watching TV. I know I do. I wish we were more capable of sustained passion and sustained resistance. We should be screaming and what we do is gossip. -Lydia Millet

silvertiger

A scream pierced the silence as Levra heard what was to be the last uttered breath from his love. It only registered faintly in the recesses of his mind, being stored for later sweat covered nights that would would wake him with a fright. This had been the last in a chain of events caused by a fluke. He hadn't ever intended on selling the artifact much less to a bawdy museum curator in the west bank for mere pennies on the dollar, but after all that had happened already he was ready to be rid of the infernal device. Laced with gold trim that flowed around a solid silver molded statuette of what could only be described as a mottling of faces and appendages that were held together with a webbing of shimmering copper weave that shone as if it were recently smelted and buffed.

After holding the pice for historical review he had began to research it's origin and found that for each previous owner there had been a drawing or photograph of the item that showed exquisite detail of the forms on the surface. What held people in a fascinated uproar about this piece was that, even though it was an authentic piece molded by the great Slovin MalVince himself during the worst throws of the dark ages and was verifiably a genuine by each successive owner, the appearance of the misshapen faces and distrorted reflections on the surface changed over the years to include more images.

Not knowing of it's root origin, nor it's purpose Levra had ventured to the depths of forbidden territory and retrieved the artifact for further study. Since that fateful day where he lost his entire expedionary team, he has been running in constant fear of the power of the signet. And now as he cluched it in his hand while resting a moment in the darkness, he caught a glimer of light and saw yet another imposed image that seemed to call to him. There on the center of the emblem was a bust of it's newest victim. Eyes glaring in fear at nothing, and a muted scream frozen forever, he saw his love's face, clear as ever.

His mind split in agony and madness took him over, he began to run in the forsaken dusk that lie ahead... Blood and Death were waiting like a raven in the sky! He heard a whooshing of wind from above, and felt a slight twinge of pain pirce him between his shoulderblades, and then all was black... ... ...


Silvertiger

msh58

sitting on the porch pounding beers all day
like every day
seeing the world through a haze
makes it better
makes it tolerable
makes it kind of funny

it wasn't so much that you just showed up
without calling first
wasn't so much that i was your entertainment
out there on the porch
but you never drank with me
and yet when i headed for the fridge
beers had disappeared
one by one
like i wouldn't notice
what is your deal?
are you underage or something?
what are you hiding from?
or am i just considered
to be too much of a lowlife
for you to associate with
and yet here you are

but the beers are gone
and you are
the only one that has been here

don't normally call the raven
have other death options i prefer usually
but its a suitable death for you
in any way it chooses
i just have to make a sigh
and let it loose
once again

blood and death
are waiting
like a raven in the sky

was the way the poem went
but that asshole poet
never actually met the raven

never saw what that means
when it starts with the eyes
and finishes up
weeks later
on the same corpse
just picking off pieces

i'm tired of the skeletons in my back yard
from the raven and his friends
sure it helps living out in the country
with people rarely visiting

but what happened to the days
when i could just rake leaves
without moving bones out of the way?
who are these people anyway

there's got to be a better way

i'm just not seeing it
and i'm ashamed of that
but its good to know
there's room for improvement

because thats what life is all about

*Nikki*

I wish I could still captivate you
With these words
Like when we first met
I wish I could take back the six years
Of time never spent
Now I only hold
Vague images in my mind
Parts of you are missing
Time is so unkind
Yet the years keep passing
The distance growing farther
I now realize
What only looking back can do
We were truely fucked
Me and you
Tears never will stop escaping
These ever crying eyes
Blood and death are waiting...like a raven in the sky

stevie667

The templars described such meetings in their dusty books and primeval parchments. In days of old the gods fought for their children, amassing mighty fleets and vast armies’ of lesser great ones, they set sail to do battle with the encroaching shadow. Breaching onto the ashen beaches, they reached the dead lands and set forth on a journey to seek and destroy evil.
A year and a day after the white harbours of their homeland faded beyond the stern they came across their foe in the mountains of the two teeth, where ice never melted and no creature dared venture. Blood and death are waiting like a raven in the sky, and storm crows gather around the black feast.

Under the fading light of the setting sun and with the two mighty powers clashed. Hour after hour, day after day the armies of the light and of the dark ravaged the vast snowdrifts with their blood and sweat. Though the gods had grown such a force, they began to falter against the pressing might of the malevolence. Pushed back against the rock walls all began to fall apart. Their bravest warriors held back the tide, but all was lost.

In this, the darkest moments the gods have ever seen a saviour came to them. Kaht, the god of war, born from the will of Arherus to protect his brothers and sisters, brought his wrath down. Fire and lightening tore from his fingers, destruction on everything they touched. His voice reined a roar that shook the mountains, waking them from their eternal slumber, binding them to his will and loosing them on the enemy. Forces known only to Arherus escaped his eyes, everything he gazed upon sprang into unquenchable fire

Desolation and ruin. Carnage and Death. Kaht sacrificed his essence, his nature as an immortal being to save the armies and peoples he belonged to, the peoples he came from. Such was his sacrifice Arherus granted him the gift of rebirth. If such time came when his children required the power of the teeth to guard and protect them from evil, he would be summoned into this realm from his own sleep to assemble the resting armies and man the bastions of old.

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Office hours have changed. Please call during office hours for more information.

snowy

Tonight I was bored at work, so I took this challenge and ran with it. Here are the results.


The moon hung low over the barren landscape, flooding it with an eerie light. Goddess watch over me, I muttered to myself as I jogged lightly over the desert, disturbing the sand slightly and leaving bootprints in my wake. Much had to be accomplished; I had put off some of my missions too long and the deadlines loomed large. I paused a moment on the crest of a small hill to coat my daggers with the poison I had crafted that afternoon. Fumbling for the vials in my pack, I didn’t see it coming.

I felt the sting before I could turn around, dropping my pack and vials as I hunched over in pain, stunned. Unable to respond, the monster attacked again, this time with a lash of its armored tail. The second hit nearly sent me reeling, but I managed to pull my daggers out of their holsters and hit out at the creature, managing to land a single strike. Damn scorpids, I swore as the creature struck me with its thick claw and again attempted to sting me with that terrible tail. I dodged the attack, moving low and aiming for the scorpid’s joints. Even without their poison coating, my sharp daggers could still do terrible damage when properly applied.

Getting into the rhythm of strike, dodge, strike I lulled the creature into expecting my next move. Instead I viciously gouged the creature with the dagger in my main hand, dazing the scorpid and allowing me to slip to the side, sliding my dagger ruthlessly into a soft spot present on its back. I managed to strike another blow before the scorpid came to its senses and attempted another hit with its tail. With an evasive maneuver I avoided the lashing tail and the slashing claws while still attempting to place my dagger into the joints of the monster. Eventually I got angry and let loose a barrage of hits with my dagger, slicing and dicing the scorpid to shreds.

When the monster hit the ground with a thud, I stepped back to admire my handiwork: I had completely disjointed the scorpid, despite its tough exoskeleton. At least I could get something out of the kill: taking my dagger, I sliced off a section of the tail and fished out the small venom sac present there. Sitting down between the lifeless corpse of my foe and my hastily dropped pack, I collected my things and placed them back carefully into their slots, including the newly acquired venom sac. I paused a moment to rest, taking the opportunity to bandage myself and finally coat my damn daggers with the helpful poison.

My daggers glowed green in the moonlight once sufficiently covered in the liquids—one, a wound poison, would prevent enemies from healing themselves, while the other, a crippling agent, would prevent them from fleeing my attacks. Between the two, they would greatly expedite the killing I had to do that night and every night following. In my life, blood and death are waiting like a raven in the sky come any midnight, despite the light of Elune. Never will I escape that.

__________________
If I am not better, at least I am different. --Jean-Jacques Rousseau

Poppinjay

Good results! I'm not much for speculative fiction, but your narrative drew me in.

I'd like to read you in other genres.

__________________
I think the Apocalypse is happening all around us. We go on eating desserts and watching TV. I know I do. I wish we were more capable of sustained passion and sustained resistance. We should be screaming and what we do is gossip. -Lydia Millet

albania

Blood and death are waiting like a raven in the sky. He turned the phrase over in his mind. He could still picture the beggar that had hissed at him so, and now it seemed the strangeness of the episode had taken on the air of prophecy. A gentle breeze passes by; he can feel it on his palms. Unaware he catches his reflection aided by the dim moonlight. He looked at a man he thought he recognized, but there was something different. His eyes were different, yet, no one noticed. Had anyone the chance to closely inspect they would see the blood vessel above his temple, or perhaps they would hear his heart. His heart, it was too loud, he thought the sound would shatter his chest, each beat like thunder reverberating through his body. But, no one would notice, these people had not come here to notice such minutia. They were all here, staying back, but in close view, and their hushed voices couldn’t hide the fact that they were all muttering one thing, when.

Honor is a thing not to be delayed, so he tilted his head to see the man who wanted him dead, the man he would try to kill. He took a quick glance at his revolver by his hip for the last time, the silver handle shone like a star. This was his chance, the time was now; he felt his damp hand touch the cool handle. At the same time an observer who had been driven by the sound of his beating heart now stood perched by the steeple, looking and waiting for the drum of his heart to secede. Before he felt the lead pierce his chest he had one last thought. It was a thought of the woman he loved who’s capricious and uncouth actions had led him into this duel.

The beating stopped and our observer left the post, glided through the town, almost transcending it. Quickly it went straight to its owner, and the sight of the raven brought a smile to the old beggar, her rotten teeth swallowing the moonlight.

--------

I needed something to distract me for a few minutes.

msh58

he had notebooks for everything
dozen or so of them
one for each field of life
or aspect of his life
that he hoped to improve upon

would come home
at the end of the day
and add to them
kind of a way
of building
little by little
into a better person
or if not
just adding something
each day
to better life

hoped the progress
he'd finally made
couldn't be taken away
by those days he had to spend in bed
covers pulled over the head
darkness preferred
when the light
from the day
came streaming through the blinds
just bringing pain.

two steps forward, one backward.
hoped he'd finally eliminated the backward one

not going forward
doesn't mean
a backward step
he hoped

got out of bed at sunset that day
finally could open the blinds
seagulls filled the sky
were all soaring in the same direction
as if from a threat
their cries filled the air.

looked to where they were coming from
dark skies
blood and death
were waiting
like a raven in the sky
in that direction

and they came
the ravens

he greeted it calmly when they came for him
but felt those regrets
if he only were able
to take more steps forward
what would have life looked like
before it ended

Ch'i

I see my hand, it waves farewell
Dismissed of thoughts both fond and fell
To this great day I sought no more
to prove to them what I once swore
That lo a challenege may insue
Volition required I must pursue
'Til then I saw the task I laid
for hence my eyes began to fade
And then it came to me.
a feeling

There was a shudder
Mearly a mutter
simply a flutter
constant and utter
A feeling like no other
Clenched between my soul and heart
a bitter sensation both sweet and tart
It froze my legs and burned my mind
It softened me for there to find
a hope to bind
intwined it shined so bright to blind
Contrived within and well inclined
I forced and tried, vivified
The conflict now, to fight or flight?
From dark I came to sun's reprise
My plight now known
a subtle demise
My eyes regained the light around
to see it's presence fray and cloud
It struck me then where I was weak
the voice inside now ill and bleak
I took this chance and changed its stance
for now I'd snapped beneath the trance
To think this life was not my fate
I cursed it's name before I bate
It soothed the scathe for me to see
my effort brought me victory

Flowing with the water
blood beside me
a raven beside it
I watch the clouds and sun in the river
and feel as if I were swimming with them
Where blood and death are waiting
like a raven in the sky.