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user is offline ●
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Fear does not stop death. It stops life.
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Posts: 799
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Likes: 1
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Female
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BISEXUAL
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Ravensbruck
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SINGLE
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Administrator
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Mar 4, 2012 22:19:54 GMT -5
Post by »Image on Mar 4, 2012 22:19:54 GMT -5
Yeah, so currently I've been writing a lot of poems for college applications. I thought I'd share. :D Tell me what'cha think! And be honest--I need some serious critiques. The first was for a contest called "Frame Your Future", the second for a writing contest on "Connecting".
Canine Connection
Glimmering, glittering they come across the fallen snow, their pelts ragged, whipped by harsh winter gales.
They are three strong, these moving, leaping figures, their forms dancing through the night and into the shadows. They burst from whispers of previous silence, dashing into raven and dove colored shades of somber grey and pallid white.
They bark and growl, amber eyes sparkling with playful demeanor, beneath a shaking, lively pelt. Defiance rises in one as a friend pounces; a second thought, two steps, lunge. Cooing their delight, rolling through alabaster snow drifts, frost clings to clumping fur tips.
Behind trots the Alpha. Calm strides and movements, performed deftly, without mistake, only confidence and challenge. His golden eyes searching, Inquire heavily of the others, the missing. He huffs, growls his displeasure, the billowing clouds of breath rising in chilled response.
The previous two lope forward, to support, to answer their superior; black-tinted ears pricked, stances uncertain, questioning themselves at past neglect. They await the command, the call. Cautious still, they hold back, unwilling to upset the delicate balance of their leader’s comforting, guiding wrath. And so they wait.
Submission greets the head wolf, an old friend, an accomplice, as he surveys the clearing again.
Nothing. The others? Absent. Where is his pack?
The leader lifts his chiseled head, Dark, ebony lips shaping as he inhales the Siberian air. It hits his lungs, a deathly, bitter fury.
He howls. Aloud his voice rings, true, wild, strong, and unwavering. Imploring through night’s sweet softness, it echoes through the foreboding depths of his forest, Calling, questioning the others, Communicating, connecting to the lost, the missing, the forgotten.
Where are you?
The trio waits, their eyes again scavenging the desolate land, amongst broken limbs, behind scattered branches, beneath low, skirted bushes, there is nothing. Nothing but the northern whiteness and a bleak, pallid existence.
And then pounding, thrumming, racing a beat begins at a distance, further away and yet gaining. It grows and swells, shouting louder, louder, louder. Tongues loll from healthy pink gums, excitement hanging on the air, mimicking the icicles hanging precariously above.
Of heartbeats and paw steps they come, flying over the ground on fluttering, invisible wings. Their longing howls and anxious yelps, nothing short of a resounding symphony. Barking, growling, rejoicing, they are again reunited. And freely dark pelts mesh with their light brethren, combined, blended, merged as a pack, connected, connected, connected.
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user is offline ●
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"Alls fair in love and war."
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“
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[P:10]
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No Group
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Mar 9, 2012 21:08:20 GMT -5
Post by Zel on Mar 9, 2012 21:08:20 GMT -5
I loved the wolf one. It was good. It kept me intrigued. :D poems unless Edgar Allen Poe and older usually don't.
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