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Creative People Thread

Those who didn't catch it, I put the link to the first two chapters of a piece I wrote during a dark period of my life in my journal.

All comments and thoughts are welcome, it's experimental and a departure for me, so I won't be offended. :-)

BUT, it got me wondering if there are any others out there who write or create in some way on this forum.

So I'm asking all of you who feel brave enough to post your work either here (in journal), or a link to it if offsite, and perhaps we could get some helpful criticism going, as well as the pleasure of enjoying what each other of us do.

This isn't limited to writing, mind you. If it's hand craft, post a few pics!

Music? A link to..well, wherever you put music up nowadays on the internet.
Tags: writing, being creative, creative
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i'm actually an aspiring writer. if i completed all the novels i've started i'd have about 6 or 7 books out now. lol. as soon as dh gets me my new lap top i'm finishing the book i'm working on now (based on my uncles murder but fictional) and another idea i got yesterday when we were out shopping. i LOVE writing.
Heh heh, I used to work with pen and paper. computers have spoiled me.

If you have anything available and ready, I'm sure some of us would love checking it out.
I read you 2 pieces this morning I think you use words very well and whilst it was a little dark for me it held me and I wanted to read more, I know thats a good thing and any publisher is looking for just that, I am going to read it again ,see now I want to read chapter 3 and find out what happened...thats a good thing .
Well, I put the last chapter up, and it is thankfully shorter. I'm glad you liked it, as I was worried it was to grim to be interesting.
i do have a few chapters done of the book i'm working on now (my others are packed away somewhere....) i wish i could work on it more than what i do but the kids are sucking out all my creative brain juices lately....
Always good to talk creativity, it's one of my soapbox issues with my kin, kith, friends and acquaintances.  I harp on them all to write their own stories, draw something, carve a piece of wood, sew a family quilt...anything to tell about themselves and their lives, because, unless you get famous or infamous, no one else will do it for you.

Your opinion of how good you are doesn't matter, get the story down in some form.  Your family will appreciate it, maybe not now, but they will.  I'd give my other three wisdom teeth if I could lay my hands on letters from my ancestors to each other.

That being said, three of my journal entries here have been poems, the cooking one seems most popular, though ,-)

Most of my poetry is written from the perspective of my worldview, which is based in pre-Christian northern European beliefs and ethics.

A few are written from whimsy, like this, inspired by just having read "Wind in the Willows" to my wife as we drove back from Massachusetts a few years ago.  She'd never read it as a child and I like to share with her the favorite books of my youth as she drives, she prefers her driving to mine ,-)  It was also sparked by the sights in the forest preserve near our home as I was walking there after a rain shower had freshened the air.

Rain Way

Clear water pools
O'er soggy, golden leaves
A gleaming path
Is formed

A road
O'er forest floor
The way of Hidden Folk
Breeze gently blows

Lightly treading
Like a water spider
Whirling along

Gaily laughing
Echoes of childhood
Magical dreams

Shadowed figures
At the edge of vision
Glad remembrance

Fresh scents
Heady and sweet
Reminder of springtime
Stirring the air

Clouds have scattered
Woodland colors glisten
Second sight ends

Read widely, read wisely, read well, feel joy.

I make beaded and wire jewelry for my special friends.
Quick note before work.

I read all three parts of your story; nasty and brutish world there.  Dis seem like a journey of self-discovery and transformation, through a glass darkly, and broken.

best - Pip
oh that's cool furballs! my uncles ex wife made "beaded lamps". they were really "retro" but they were so cool. if she would've sold em she probably could've made a ton of money off of them.
Huh. You know, I actually think I like this. Perhaps because I tend to strongly dislike "modern poetry" and this has feel to it that reminds me a bit of....shoot, can't recall who I'm thinking of. Frost?

I'm sensing a deliberate structure here but I'm not catching what it is. It flows well too. I was going to say I'm not sure about the last line, but I may have just gotten it. or not. But that's the idea, is to make you contemplate, eh?

Reading as a past time when raining, eh? So do it well.

I think poets must find that the most amusing aspect of their work, when the readers find meaning in it that even THEY didn't consider as being there.  

I'll have to go look at your others. (Ah, just caught the Emerson reference you made).

Oh, and yes, that's an apt description. I had just read Cormac McCarthy's "The Road" and reread Erickson's "Malazan book of the Fallen" series, and decided to experiment with the darkness of those worlds. Which is why the dialogue is scant and has a rough, American Western feel to it (at least, tha was the idea).

I've decided to include SOME elements of humour should I continue it, least the reader expire from despair.
Kids drain away a huge chunk of creativity if you aren't careful to set time aside away from them. Of course, they can be great sources of creativity of well. trying to get time to yourself to write can be difficult, with them running about underfoot.
My wife started out with beads and wire and got very into jewelry making. She said the big difference for her was when she began working with the jeweler's torch and drill she picked up. It gives you options for working with the stuff you don't have with just pliers, wire and beads.
Do you get supplies locally or on-line?
Good evening and thank you for your observations.  I have long written that a poet is little without an audience.  Writing for oneself is mainly just an exercise in mental "self-abuse." ;-)  It might feel good momentarily, but it is ultimately sterile and lonely.

"Rainway" is written as a variation of the structure called diamante, aka diamond; 2 syllables, 4, 6, 4 then 2 again.  In my understanding of the form, each stanza has an opening idea and flows to a conclusion, so a 5 line diamante could, like a haiku, be a perfectly complete poem.

Most of the other works I have (about 15,000 lines over the past decade) are written in blank verse using long meter as the gauge of each stanza: 4 lines of 8 syllables with a slight pause in the center.  Many hymns are written in this meter.

The recitation cadence I use is quite like that of Longfellow's "Song of Hiawatha," that choppy beat, like waves slapping the hull of a canoe.

I rarely write anything with end rhymes and do make some use of alliteration and kennings (word pictures or allegories, ie: sea steed for ship, cloud gift - rain, whale way - sea, battle rain - blood...)

Your story, as I read it, I found I could picture both the characters and the terrain, almost hear them...

You write well - Pip
I love it! I was thinking of"the Raven" for cadence but I just do that. That is much more appropriate.

Thanks. I've been busy "Universe Creating" and haven't gotten back on here for a bit. I hate having to do that. I hate outlining as well. frankly, it's been pointed out I seem to hate writing period. But... it's what I know, :-)

I'm curious, did the main character have any appeal to him at all? I was hoping that despite making him such a terrible person he'd still invoke sympathy. Don't know if that worked, though.

I've never been crazy about rhyming poetry, btw, but I think it's because most poets don't do it very well. It always seems forced to me. I have to go over and take a look at some of your other stuff.

You should consider trying to get it published. although from what I've seen, being a published poet is no great shakes. The whole "circuit" thing they have to do of travelling about and doing readings always struck me as a trial.

You know I have noticed before how many members are really talented especially in  poetry and writing ,we have one member published with a childs story and working on another,your poetry is a delight Pip, and I like Savas's talent and use of words even if his story was a bit dark for me ,guess thats cos Im a Gal ..I think you all should have a go at getting published, tons of writers have to resend their 'tomes 'repeatedly before the right publisher takes it on.,dont ever be put off by rejections.
Yes, someone mentioned that. Hey, I promise to put some sparkling vampires in next time. :->
("Twilight" referewnce)
The general did seem to have some glimmer of care for the girl, who definitely seems to have latched onto him.

This need not be a form of redemption, but it could lead to a healing of sorts.

I'll give the chapters a rereading and see if I have any useful observations.


I agree with you on the rhyming poetry, unless very well done, it seems to be more "greeting card" like than not.  Most modern rhyming poets seem to sacrifice the story flow within the poem.

I just try to write as the idea behind the poem fleshes itself out in the words.

Sometimes the process of completion takes a long time, sometimes not.  it depends on the strength of the idea and the connection I feel to the story.  One 36 line poem I wrote, which is about Thor, took over 3 years to complete from the initial idea.  Another, which is a mythic retelling of a boar hunt some friends of mine undertook, about 120 lines in under an hour.

I have tried my hand at fictional prose in the past, but it just doesn't flow for me.  I am writing an "epic" poem based upon characters from some novels I've been working on since junior high.   I know the characters, and their stories, but they just do not want to be tied to sentences and paragraphs.  I started putting one of the stories into poetic form, and it is flowing.
A poem about Thor? that I'd like to see. I have something of an affinity for the Norse Mythos.

I love the dark inevitability of Ragnorok, and how there is naught but doom and failure for the Gods in the end.

All they can do is hope to stave off the inevitable.

In the end, there is only Ragnorok.

The eternal winter begins.

It appeals to the cynic in me.

You summed up my problem with rythming poetry effectively and simply. Often I read it and feel that a sacrifice has been made to the quality of the piece for the sake of a rythme.

I have tried poetry. But I lack the true soul of a poet. I find that the technical framework of the stanza overrules my desire to achieve the emotional impact of words, and leaves anything I write devoid of impact.

Tell me, when you write poetry, do you find that you have to hunt to find specific words to create the effect you want, or does it just flow naturally?

here's an interesting question; do you find you think in poetic verse? I find I tend to think in story prose it's the reason my wife despairs of getting my attention half the time. It's hard to be aware of others around you when you've got an inner dialogue/ story playing out most of the time. :->.

Usually, I buy my things locally at a place that I've been finding good deals.  But, I'm thinking I should try buying some of the essentials online, since I've been told that these things are usually much less expensive online.  Once I start doing that, I'll probably do a little bit of shopping locally and a little bit online.  The one place I go to locally really is a good place to go to.
You could try Metaliforous (sp?). I beleive they have an online store. They're situated in NYC, so I can't speak for their prices.

I do know my wife was looking on e-bay recently and found what she said were some awesome prices on things she thought would cost her twice as much, easily. She even found a jeweler's drill for about 20$ that normally goes for about 80$!
Thanks, I'll look into that one.  

I've always had a hard time getting a handle on Thor, but wanted to write a song as the centerpiece of a worship service to him.  I think the problem lay in that Thor is looked upon as a god of action: a traveler, a slayer of giants, one who does rather than deeply thinks...  He is looked as a protector of the Innanard, the community of Kin, Kith and Friends, and a god looked to more by the common folk, rather than the warriors and nobles.  We modern folk even have him (and other Norse gods) embedded in our calendar: Thursday = Thor's Day, part of the lasting effect that our ancestors had upon us to this very day.

After several weeks of thinking, scratching out a few phrases, having "vapor lock" over the subject, and then putting the work aside for a couple of years, the phrase "Son of Deed" popped into my mind.

The poem flowed out in less than an hour after that.

1st stanza is repeated as the chorus of the song.  When reading this, think of the rhythm of the wheels of a 2-wheeled cart rattling over a country road while the animals are pulling at a canter.  Many of my poems "demand" a tune as I write them.  This is one such.  I am musically illiterate, so I have a pocket recorder into which I sing as I write.

Son of Deed

Thor, Son of Deed, Mighty Do-er
Your name has spread, across Midgard
Thor Odinsson, Will to His Wit
Innangard's Fist, Worlds' Traveler

Black storm clouds rise, thunderclaps roll
Asa Thor rides, Ettins to slay
Mankind's Old Friend, guarding the Weal
Strength in action, as we should be
- Chorus -

Stories in Lore, tell of his deeds
Stout warrior, hearty and hale
Fist to the fore, striking the foes
Of Asgard's tribes, and of all Life
- Chorus -

Hammer and gloves, broad brazen belt
Protecting Folk, from ill intent
Strength upon strength, power for right
Quickly He strikes, always does act
- Chorus -

Thor of the North, common man's friend
Fighting giants, with Mjollnir
Swiftly it strikes, just like a bolt
Out of the blue, brightly, then gone
- Chorus -

Gold lightning flash, crosses blue sky
Nary a cloud, is within sight
What could this be, this spark above
Fault in my eyes, or other thing
- Chorus -

Without a storm, on a cool day
How can this be, lightning bolt thrown
Nature teasing, Godly message
The latter I, do think calmly
- Chorus -

Lesson I think, is to Act Now
Strive always to, do what is right
Sometimes we win, sometimes we lose
But overall, we build the Good
- Chorus -

Black storm clouds rise, thunderclaps roll
Asa Thor rides, Ettins to slay
Mankind' Old Friend, guarding the Weal
Strength in action, as we should be
- Chorus -
- Chorus -

I did stall once while finishing the work.  I was sitting on my back deck looking north over the hayfield behind my house.  The lightning flash in the poem happened as I described: clear blue sky, not even a wisp of clouds, the Sun well on her way west for the day...

Since choosing this worldview as the one I follow, my parents think I have become a better man.  I have certainly received inspiration from it, as I've written several thousand lines in the past 20 years.

be well - Pip
I like it. It's got a bit of a mix/ modern feel with a touch of the style of the old Norse verse.

One problem with Thor is he tends to be a bit of a comic relief character in stories as well. It creates a dichotomy that can be hard to cope with when you're trying to focus on his serious side. I suppose that's part of the comedy; Thor tends to take himself way to seriously.
I could have used a good worship song about Heimdall back when. I always had a particular affinity for him. ;->

Have you ever read Douglas Adams? He does a book called;

"The long, dark, tea time of the soul" that deals with the Norse Gods trying to manage in this modern age that's very funny.
Wonder and it shall appear ,-)

Again, 1st stanza is repeated as the chorus.  Another one I sing...and if you'd care to hear, I do have podcasts of some of my songs:
is the link to this one.  All my songs are acapella, sometimes accompanied by me keeping the beat, thumping the desk top ,-)

Wearer of the Wolfskin - 29 March 2001
(Written in memory of Scotty McMurry)

Heimdall you stand in wolfskin cloak
Auroch's horn close at hand
Guarding the way on Bifrost bright
Everward, Wakeful One

Praises we sing, the Warder Bold!
Heimdall, Garth Guard, Watch over us!
Praises we sing, the Warder Bold!
Your Deeds shine bright, Honor's Beacon!
- Chorus -

Heimdall, Horn Ás, Never Sleeping
Looks oer the Worlds, observing all
Grim of visage, solid of stance
Always ready to sound the Call
- Chorus -

Within your tales, are lessons true
Of watchfulness, against all ill
To be prepared, for Ragnarok
We'll look to Worth, and battle gear
- Chorus -

Ever sharp ears, hear Battle Strife
Farseeing eyes, watch Mannish Deeds
Bell flared nostrils, smell tang of Blood
Inflowing breath, brings taste of Pain
- Chorus -

Midgard is green, Life upon Life
Quickened by Gods, Ordered by Same
Folk have a place within the Clan
Farmer, Craftsman, Hallthane and Lord
- Chorus -

Community ties, of Birth and Word
Bind tight and strong, among the Folk
Rig did walk here, long, long ago
Taught us to know, work we must do
- Chorus -

Mind and Body, Art, Craft and Wit
Skills we should have, as Lord or Man
Helping the Folk, ready to be
In Peace or War, live large and strong
- Chorus -

Praises we sing, the Warder Bold!
Heimdall, Garth Guard, Watch over us!
Praises we sing, the Warder Bold!
Your Deeds shine bright, Honor's Beacon!
- Chorus -
- Chorus -

I have read some Douglas Adams, but not "Long dark..."  I'll have to look for it.

Thanks - Pip
I'll check out the link.

I actually like this one better than Thor's, but perhaps that's because of a personal affinity.
It has a good flow and the feel holds true without.

Now I'm going to possibly irritate you;

How do you think the line;

"Skills we should have , as Lord or Man."

Would read compared to "Skill we should have, as Lord or Men."

If you'd liked me to elaborate, I'll pm.

Otherwise, if you'd like to send me an E-bomb for messing with your work... that can still be a pm. :-)
Mind and Body, Art, Craft and Wit
Skills we should have, as Lord or Men
Helping the Folk, ready to be
In Peace or War, live large and strong


I sang it both ways and I agree the change does add to the poem.

Thanks, and yes, please do PM and elaborate.

I'll be the first to admit that there is always room for improvement.  My ego is sound enough that I do not take umbrage when someone suggests a change; some work out, some don't, but they are worth a try.

I rewrote an entire song once, at the suggestion of a friend who had made a living as an independent record producer.  Afterward we both agreed the original was better ,-)

be well - Pip
(BTW, I did get a copy of "Great Expectations.")
Heh heh, I'll pm you.

Just remember;

Beware Mrs. Haversham!!!

I question her motives. ;->
This is just the very begining of my book. i'm still working on it so hopefully it will be done soon.

Late one evening the Hensley’s heard a knock at their front door. At first it was a light tap, tap, tap. Ignoring it for a few minutes it turned into a hard pounding. Maryanna jumped out of bed and went running down the hallway to the stairs. Taking them two at a time she reached the door before her husband, Scott could. She was not sure if she should be upset someone was knocking on the door so late or concerned that someone may be hurt. As she unbolted the door she began thinking the worst, “oh my god something happened to mom or dad!”. She threw open the door but nobody was there. Puzzled she looked around, “Hello? Is anybody there?” After hearing nothing she turned and began to close the door when she heard a soft, faint noise coming from by her feet. Whenever she looked down she saw a basket that was covered by a soft, pink blanket. Stitched onto one corner of the blanket was one word “ADDISON”. Suddenly the blanket moved! She jumped back scared by what may lie underneath. She was most certainly not prepared for what she saw next. As she moved the blanket there lay a beautiful, little baby girl. She had soft blonde curls and big blue eyes.  She  picked up the baby, not knowing who she was holding at the moment. She had no idea that this baby would grow into  a powerful leader. A queen who would lead her people to freedom and victory. “Scott, look! Someone left their baby here!” Maryanna picked up the basket and took everything inside. Scott held the baby and just smiled. They had been trying for so long to have a child of their own. Was this a gift from God? How could someone just dump such a beautiful baby off on a strangers doorstep like that? Should they call CYS to pick up the baby or keep her? So many questions were flying through their minds they had no idea what to do. “Well it is already late and I am sure she is tired. Why don’t you go up into the attic and pull down the old cradle we had for Danni?” Maryanna said to her husband. He just nodded and disappeared up the steps. “Well little Addison, how about some milk? Tomorrow we’ll go shopping for all kinds of goodies for you! How does that sound?” Staring into her deep blue eyes Maryanna felt a warmth deep down in the pit of her stomach she had not felt in a long time and tears welled up in her eyes and she laughed as she heard the tiny baby girl giggle and coo. “Now, I wonder how old you are. You’re just a tiny thing! Hey  Scot, grab the box with the bottles and stuff while you’re up there!” Turning her attention back to Addison, Maryanna noticed something shiny on the baby. She hadn’t noticed it before when she first picked her up. She pulled it out from under the little girls sleeper and saw it was an old locket. Opening it up she saw a picture of a young man and woman. They were a very noble looking couple. The man had a magnificent golden crown sitting on top of his head. At each of the 10 points was a diamond. Below the Peaks of the crown were wide circles that had a large ruby with small emeralds encircling it and at the base of the crown were beautiful amethysts. He had on a pure white shirt and what looked to be a robe of some sort. The robe was red with a royal blue fur trim and the inside looked to be some sort of shiny purple material. No doubt from the rest of his outfit it was silk. He was a strikingly good looking man. He had soft brown hair and deep green eyes that were very serious. His lips were pursed together in a smirkish kind of smile. He seemed to have a very nice golden tan. Then she looked over at the woman who was just as good looking as the man. Her crown was not as impressive as the mans but it was still extremely beautiful. It rested delicately on top of her  head. The peaks of her crown had pink diamonds  and trailing down the crown were rubies that went from slightly smaller than the pink diamonds to the size of pennies. At the base of her crown were emeralds. She had diamond and ruby earings and a matching necklace. Her outfit, no doubt a dress from the way it looked on  her, was a beautiful shade of green. The straps were tank top straps and it seemed to be made of satin. Her robe looked the same as the mans only more feminine. “Oh Addison my dear! Who are you? Are these your parents? The look to be awfully important. Scott came walking into the room as Maryanna was handing him the locket and he handing her the bottles . They smiled at each other and looked lovingly down at this child that they both knew they would keep. She was placed on their doorstep for a reason and until somebody told them that reason she would stay with them. She would become the newest Hensley until it was her time to take over for her parents.
In introduction..

Words and music begin to flow
Like water pent behind a dam
Too long kept from flowing forth
Rushing, turbid, disordered surge

I have been dealing with feelings long buried.

In other words, after a long dry spell in which I was tending
to needed healing, the poetry has once again become...

In thinking back over my time of darkness and listening to
songs of my youth...came this.

Cries within a Song

Ties a rope to a tree, hanging
Until the wind of time, blowing
Eases the hurts of life, healing
Lowering myself down, living

The strident notes ring in my head
Shrill, sibilant, siren like sounds
Wash over me, invade my soul
Chasing away thoughts of silence

An elfin horn calls from the forest
Silvery tones, lilting, pretty
Leading my steps to ancient mound
Covered with forget-me-nots

I have been here, before, again
Looking to what, the past of me
The past of kin, the past of folk
The base from which my life has sprung

Who were these folk, would they know me
Am I alike, enough to see
That I am theirs as they are mine
Or have I changed, too much for that

While I am they and they are me
Alike but not, different, same
A long line lives, from them to me
And through my kin, it stretches still

In songs of youth I find relief
From sorrow deep and painful thoughts
From heavy load of life's duties
Taken gladly, worked at madly

Within the songs lie many thoughts
Many feelings, too many hopes
Of gain and fame, of glory, too
Of pain and hurt, and darkness deep

And by the mound there is a well
Its cool waters still, dark and deep
Urging one on to plunge inside
Sleep forever within dark womb

But my doom lies not in this path
It is on road strewn with sharp rocks
That tear my feet as I trudge on
Because I must, it is my lot

From dim place by the mound and well
I see a path that leads to light
It is quite steep and difficult
But what is not that's worth the strife

I wake to self upon my chair
To warmth and light, to sight of wife
To sound of song that shrilly calls
To memory within my heart

Ties a rope to a tree, hanging
Until the wind of time, blowing
Eases the hurts of life, healing
Lowering myself down, living
Gosh I had forgotten this thread Pip ..such wonderful words here from great folks, you have no doubt a gift with words and poetry, love this last one . ..
Hey, wonder what happened to Savas?  I miss him!

He just kind of dropped off the face of the earth!
Hey, this thread is great, I need more time for reading all...
Btw, I miss Savas as well, he was not much present by the time I arrived, however...
I never wrote poetry , just some essays - nowadays they are only about cats - guess I getting a little "crazy" about my girls :-)
I'm good at handcrafting as well - those usually involve gnomes and elves as main subject.
My experience with beads was a beads leprechaum I' ve found online one day :-)
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