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• (January 12, 2023, 01:18:11 AM)

[Rizzy]

So, the first thing is a poem - we had to write something in a style of a Russian poet (for my russ. lit. class a few years back). Result: something kinda emo-ish, maybe? I was just trying to follow the style...

"Stuck"

You.
You came
To me.
Why?
Please, go,
Go now!
I am stuck
Just like before,
When you came to me
Those many
Years
Ago.

You.
You left
Me.
Why?
No, Stay!
I beg you,
Don’t go!
I am alone,
Just like before,
When you left me
Those many
Days
Ago.

You.
You burn
Me.
Like coarse salt
On a newly opened
Flesh wound.

You.
You sting
Me.
Like a needle
That slowly tears
My veins  apart.

Oh, you!
Whose passion
Perturbs.
Whose sweetness
seethes.
Whose fondness
Fumes.
Whose rapture
Rages.
Whose love
Cannot
Love.
Me.

I am stuck
Just like before,
When you came
To me
Those many
Years
Ago.

[Rizzy]

Second thing is part of a story I started last summer that I have yet to finish (nor will I, most likely).

        The wind was rushing through her slightly tousled auburn hair, caressing her slender hands that gripped the cold, rusted metal links of the worn plastic swing in the middle of an abandoned park. It had seemed like years since she had last stopped by this particular grassy field, while in reality it had been only a few weeks, having been cooped inside her room frantically studying for her final exams, too preoccupied to take a respite in this quiet sanctuary. She had finally finished her last year of university, yet she chose to stick around the city just a little bit longer. Call it nostalgia, but she could not come to part just yet with the people she now called friends. Though, as much of a dreamer she wished she could be and remain with her friends for the longest time, once summer was over, she would no longer be in this town that she has called a second home for the past four years. Whether this was for better or worse, well, only the future could tell, but as it stands now, that gut-wrenching feeling says it’s for the better – anything would be better than trying to live here, now, after everything that has happened.
   As she swung back and forth on the garish blue plastic seat suspended from an old oak tree, her mind was lost to her, focused only on the repetitive motion of her body going back and forth like a pendulum. It had been a hard couple of months, filled with much more than just exams to study for and finalizations to be made for her new school next year. For the first time in her 22 years of life, she can truly say her summer had been bittersweet – it had been her first true venture into a world so different, so foreign than anything she had experienced up until now. As she gazed down at her feet clad in black, worn-out Vans, thinking back to every time this swing had been her crutch whenever she was stressed, she could not help but wonder if she was in too deep for a mere piece of plastic and metal to be of any help to her now. She thought back to times past when all she would have to do is swing her heart away, as carefree as a child running through a field of daisies, and her mind would allow her to rationalize and solve any problem that was troubling her.
   But this time…this time, it was different…
   As she went up and down for the umpteenth time, a small tear, invisible to the world around her but not to her heart, slid down her wind-chapped cheek, dropping onto the damp grass beneath her. She slowed down little by little, no longer able to hide her emotions from herself. As soon as a foot skidded across the dirt beneath her, that lone tear turned into two tears, then five, and before she knew it, she was mentally berating herself for making a puddle Lewis Carroll himself would be proud to write of.
Why? Why…It was all she could think of, all that her addled mind could comprehend at this time. The sky started to turn gray – an ominous raincloud rumbled across the sky, mirroring one emotional storm that was as overdue to burst as the looming cloud overhead.   
   Such a strong word. Why. Three small letters. Who could imagine that three small letters could mean so much, cause so much harm and pain, or cause that utterly cliché fluttering of butterflies inside oneself. Who could have imagined that three small letters could have led to so much? These were the thoughts that flew through the emotionally torn, physically exhausted, and mentally confused mind that refused to let her accept everything that has happened over the past few weeks.
        Luella, Luelllaaaa…
        In her dazed state, she almost missed her friend calling to her from atop the hill only a few yards from where she currently sat. With her head hung limply, long hair forming a protective curtain of deep cognac around her trembling body, she tried to hide herself among the mockingly vibrant flora around her. She heard her friend call her from a distance, her one friend that shared in her fears, her elation, and her sorrow from the all of the events that had let to this very moment. 'Why' indeed. It was all she could think of to keep from going crazy, to keep herself from thinking about…
…him.
   I guess I better get going, Luella thought as she noticed that those gray rainclouds had turned from a putty color to a deep charcoal, blocking any light from penetrating and illuminating her face. It’s for the better, I don’t want to be seen like this. She found a handkerchief in her jeans pocket – a small white one with blue embroidered teacups her grandmother had made for her years ago – and wiped off any signs of the past three hours of  her emotional turmoil. I must look a wreck. As she gazed off towards Janine, a girl she had befriended in her last year at university and had quickly become attached to, the one that knew almost everything of what occurred over the past two months, four more letters jumped to the forefront of her musings. Oh God, those four letters. Why now? After I just started to feel an iota better. One more word to add to her list of words that seem so small, but mean so much.
…Beau
…Beau

She started to run.

[ivan]

So, the first thing is a poem - we had to write something in a style of a Russian poet (for my russ. lit. class a few years back). Result: something kinda emo-ish, maybe? I was just following the style...

"Stuck"

You.
You came
To me.
Why?
Please, go,
Go now!
I am stuck
Just like before,
When you came to me
Those many
Years
Ago.

You.
You left
Me.
Why?
No, Stay!
I beg you,
Don’t go!
I am alone,
Just like before,
When you left me
Those many
Days
Ago.

You.
You burn
Me.
Like coarse salt
On a newly opened
Flesh wound.

You.
You sting
Me.
Like a needle
That slowly tears
My veins  apart.

Oh, you!
Whose passion
Perturbs.
Whose sweetness
seethes.
Whose fondness
Fumes.
Whose rapture
Rages.
Whose love
Cannot
Love.
Me.

I am stuck
Just like before,
When you came
To me
Those many
Years
Ago.

Mayakovsky rules. Nothing emo about him.

To get the step effect, embed it in CODE tags.

[Rizzy]

YESSS!!! He does. Same with Khlebnikov, Akhmatova, and Gumilev (can you tell which styles I like best)? Hahaha.

Also, wasn't trying to go for the step effect, that's just how I had typed it in MSword for emphasis of certain words. 

[xolik]

You
change your mind
like a girl
changes cloths

and you
pms
like a bitch
I should know

oh wait, that's not poetry at all.

[Rizzy]

O_O I've only heard that song a couple of times at the chorus...I never realized that was the 2nd verse.

[Chris]

This reminds me of Du Hast by Rammstein:

You
you have
you have me
you have asked me
you have asked me and I have said nothing

They seem to use the same "step style" when it comes to beginning a new train of thought.

[Rizzy]

This reminds me of Du Hast by Rammstein:

You
you have
you have me
you have asked me
you have asked me and I have said nothing

They seem to use the same "step style" when it comes to beginning a new train of thought.

And all this time, I thought the translation was you hate me. Lol!

[12AX7]

Hate = hass

have = haben

When conjugated, they can sound very similar. The telling part is 'mich gefragt'  = "asked me".

 
 

 
 

[Wunderkind]

When conjugated, they can sound very similar.

Many words do. Which is why I recommend reading the written lyrics before trying to translate the song from any language. Translating it by ear can be disastrous.

Hell, most English-speaking people can't even translate English language songs properly.

[Rizzy]

Good point. It would help if I ~actually~ knew German.