Here's a continually expanding collection of stuff I wrote (poetry as well as prose). If you enjoy my writing style, be sure to check out my entry on NSFW's writer's contest here Critique and corrections are very much appreciated, thank you very much in advance! A Short Study on Fire and Flames Sitting right before the fire; the burning wood. Flames of yellow, orange and red, blue and white, dance lightheartedly around their ashen grey and black ballroom. My face, feverish in feel and temperature, is burned into a mask of retreating awe, hidden reverence. The warmth hits my skin and my ears stiffen at the crisp sound of raw energy brutalizing the firewood, it’s slight, almost ominous crackle. My skin moistens, defending against the burning sensation, creating a barrier of sweat. The dance of flames is almost hypnotic. They start out elegantly glowing white, rising from depths unseen, beneath the blackened bones of fallen trees. They erupt and take forms of cloth of yellow and orange hues, swirling, gathering, turning into pillars of light. They wisp about, gaseous, like clouds of red and gold, before coming to a halt, seeing that their time is up. They cough, one last swirling cough, and dissipates into the ether, from whence their ethereal bodies seems to have come. But an aftermath is played out; Darkness erupts from the fallen phoenixes: A shadow rises from their grave. Quenching light, it swirls in ominous patterns before completely being whisked out of existence: Its only remnant is the drowning, incense-like scent of smoke. One streak of fire leaves and another one erupts. A cycle of life and death continuing until the parasitic flames have finally sucked out all life of the ashen limbs. In their fluid dance, forms are created; thoughts are spun in fiery thread. One motif gives way to another, murder scenes are replaced by sensual intimacy. All that is red and orange in nature, all that is guarded by flaming passion emerges in pictures of swiveling nature; one moment they are the center of the world, the next they lie, forgotten, upon a mountain of grey charcoal. ”Rainy days. Huh.” The heavy, glimmering drops fell from the gray curtains above. Drip, drop. The raindrops slid down the green foliage hanging above myself. Drip, drop. One slid down my left chin. It left a trail, glistening in the fog belated light. Drip, drop. Another followed the first. Drip, drop. A pack of cigarettes was lying near me, upon the green grass patches of the highland. Drip, drop. It was morning. A fresh day. As fresh as the morning fog, and as fresh as the raindrops, heavily plummeting towards their ground, their death. Drip, drop. I pulled it out. I raised my head in a grim salute, a mockery of the unmerciful heavens. Drip, drip, drop. I loaded it. I locked it. Drip, drip, drop. It came to an rest at the side of my head. Drip. Drip. Drop. The heavens heard it. No one else. His head rested now on a pillow of grass. Drip, drop. No raindrops fell on his face. The leaves of tree’s crown had led them elsewhere. Drip, drop. The traces of drops on his face were still visible, still glistening. Drip, drop. The heavens cried. No one other. Drip, drop, the sound of blood. The heaven seemed so clear. The sun's clear rays cut through the crystalline sky and no place seemed as blessed as this blissful sanction. In a peaceful valley of roses and tulips stood two figures. One had flaming locks of scarlet hair, whereupon it seemed that a halo fire burned, answering the call of the heavenly body above. The thorns of a rose are prickly, not venomous, but her lips, red as they were, seemed more venomous than the Forbidden Fruit, that which had long before also tricked the eyes of a pure beholder. Her eyes flickered with sparks of emerald, reflecting the green waves of grass that shone with immanent power, with growth and with the essence of life. Whatever words that fell from her mouth seemed to be of the quintessence: The aether, the very breath of gods, would have fallen short of hers. She was lovely, lovely beyond the poor words of mortal men; a disgrace would it be to describe her further: A fool’s quest for heaven. At her side stood, contrasting her feral, ferocious, rampant nature, a young man. Purer than the silver lined lilies and more serene than feathers falling on fresh snow was the man. His hair was black and flat, like a raven’s coat, and fell around his face like the star filled void around the celestial body of the Moon. His skin seemed soft, like the cotton of which his white shirt was made. His shadowy pants contrasted the white mists of cotton that formed around his torso and seemed as soft as silk as they curved around his long elongated legs. He was quite the slender man; elegance radiated from his pose and from the gestures of his hands. He seemed as eloquent as a straw of grass swiveling in the wind and as agile as a swallow surging through the velvet sky. Not far away from the two, a small city buzzed with life of late spring. Towers of red brick and grey steel rose above smaller houses: in the middle, a marketplace; kids running around, playing with wooden swords and plastic pistols, women and men hastening from one stall to another, where they found wares inaccessibly fresh in contrast to the ones bought at a mall. The industry quarters were hardly visible from where the two stood, now holding hands. One could but notice few warehouses, hidden behind the many towering monuments and buildings. The sky seemed so clear, few moments ago. “It’s raining” said the young man. “But I can’t see no clouds.” mused the lady. “Look, far off, in the distance. Curtains of grey drops, rolling in across the land” “I see. I do hear the rumbling of thunder too”, she added, grabbing his hand in hers. The very earth they stood on shook, repeatedly. It didn’t stop. The rain came closer. The clouds it thundered down from suddenly came into sight. The man mumbled something the lady’s ear, but it was drowned beneath the bellowing of the warring heavens. One moment the rain fell heavily above the city. The other, there was no city. From clouds of drones, of fighter jets and of huge aircrafts droplets of steel and iron fell, thundering down towards the earth in a cascading manner. As tidal surges plummeting against barrier reefs, exploding in splashes of crystal blue and foamy white, such were the grey raindrops: their splashes in red and yellow, in fiery fume and coaly smoke. Upon a hill of grassy green in the midst of scarred land, in black and red, a scarlet rose and a white lily rocked in the mild wind. The sky was so clear, yet no one knew. Oh, white eye in the heavens, nightly awake, Ghastly you watch the sinners of late. In silence they sleep, their fate they’ve forgotten, The darkness is coming to harvest the rotten. Oh, white eye in the heavens, sorrow’s your name, Silently watching the sinners of late. In silence they sleep, their fate never felt, The deck has been stacked, their last hand been dealt. Oh, white eye in the heavens, so wretched with your curse, To watch, unblinking, the destruction of earth. In silence we’ve slept with blind eyes of the dream, The silence will shatter and close with a scream. Oh, white eye in the heavens, I long for your embrace, To fly from the dawn, the cruel dreamer’s bane. In silence I’ll mourn the last, final spark, The dream is ending, yet I’m lost in the dark. When the castles crash, the towers come tumbling, Fiery rain over black mountains rumbling, I’ll learn to fly, to take to the sky, If not, I will fall - If not, I will die.
That was really well written and poetic. While reading it felt like as though it was me staring at the fire. A really enjoyable read. 10/10 - I would recommend more people to read this. And would also like to see more work from yourself.
Thanks a lot mate, it really means the world to me I'll definitely upload more soon enough (I think my old threads have gone missing, so I might also try and reupload some of those).
For those who are still interested, I updated with a new piece of prose, I've been working on. Rest assured, it is by no means the final product - I shall return with an edit to the ending scene!
New poem, people! Made it while working on my other (longer) story (and while I really should be doing assignments)
