Hey all. This is my first post in the art forum. Which says a lot.
I write poems, mostly love poems, but I also write rants on different topics. I like to write creative writings, but you probably ownt find those here. For now, I'll post a work-in-progress I am writing for my girlfriend. Comments, please.

The beauty unsurpassed,
Of starlit glade and glen,
The cheery smile that flashes,
As fleeting as the wren.

Your light footfalls
As you softly advance
The gay laughter calls
Me wishing for just one chance.

I look at you and see
All the glory of life
What I hoped would be
Now alive without strife

The long strands of hair
So beautiful in the light
I long to touch, if I dare
Your beauty on a cold night

I look upon you,
And,
Contained in my breast,
My heart quivers,
Then stops.
I love you.

This is a short story I wrote. I personally dislike it. It is extremely short, and basically just sets up a world. Any tips on how I could improve would be appreciated.

Alexander shuffled along the dark alleyway, keeping to the middle of the path lest shadows obscure his form. The guards at the other end of the passage aimed their rifles at him, making sure he made no false moves.
Alexander could only dimly remember what it had been like, just two months earlier. He had been walking through Central Park, enjoying the light breeze and the fresh scent of the trees. He stopped to eat an apple next to one of the larger oaks, and looked up to the sky. After a little while, he saw small shapes in the sky. Curious, Alexander squinted, trying to identify the objects. They looked like very small and far away birds. Then, a shape fell from the sky. The bombing of New York had begun.
After the hell of the first few days, Alexander began to be used to the idea of being under attack. Every day he would see the propaganda posters lining the streets, the loudspeakers blaring messages like “We can hold the Red Tide!” If anything, Alexander felt that he was in a dream world. How could any of this be real? How could someone attack America?
Then, they landed.
Boat after boat of Soviet troops landed in New York harbor, with nothing standing in their way. Absolutely nothing. No troops, no tanks, not even a police force. Unopposed, the Russians immediately set up management offices and detention areas. People were pushed through the quos, documented, and sent on. Anyone with a military record was immediately drafted as a conscript. Luckily, Alexander had managed to hide from that part of the inspection.
Just seeing the Soviet flag draped over every building, in every doorway, and on everyone’s clothes disgusted Alexander. The Russians were even assembling engineers to replace the Statue of Liberty’s book and torch with a hammer and sickle. Finally, Alexander couldn’t take it any more. He gathered up any weapon he could find and went underground, helping the resistance fighters. And now, after all that hard work, he was caught, helpless, and would be executed.

C&C RA2
I love bombing of NY! Makes me all happy inside(no-I"m not a terrorist!)

The poem is very nice, it's sweet. I'm sure she'll like it!
One thing, though, that I would have made different.
This is how I would've made it:

but of course it's your poem ;) do what you think is best.


The story is interesting, but does it end there? If you have time and will, I'm sure you could write something about what happens after he was cought and before he's executed (unless he manages to escape :D which I hope, becuase I kinda like Alexander LOL )


Well, you should definitly post some more here :ok:

Worthles ally's scum - there is NO way he'll resist mind control technology!

You Were You


At a glance,
Delicate, fragile.
But in your stance,
Strong, virile.

Against society you fight
But in reality you battle a reflection,
A battle futile, trite.
Yet you stand strong, with direction

The direction to clash;
The direction to yearn;
The direction to spurn;
The direction to hate.

In your quest to be unique
You abandoned hope for a crown.
Most turn the other cheek,
But in their hearts, pity is found.

In your rebellion
You break, burn
Steal, destroy
But in your heart,
You cry

You strive to be different,
But, lo, all along,
You were different.
You were you, where you belong.



Comments?

But, lo, all along --> I don't get that line
Otherwise it's pretty good...

"But, lo, all along"



The "lo" refers to "Lo and behold". It likely originates from the word "Loke" in Middle English. (Go google! :ok: )

haha nice..poem yobor perfect 100%

hmm I didn't get more lines than simply that Lo one.

but for what I understand and think of it is a very nice poem!
:ok: