FaSho's Terrible Writing Corner
 

Okay so in class, we have to right a daily journal everyday. My teacher tells a semi-famous quote, and we have to write a scenario based on that quote, then we share our writing. All my classmates say I'm a really good writer but i disagree, and i wanted to see what you guys think. If I get some posi feedback I'll post them daily, but first i'd like to post some older yet still recent ones.

November 12th, 2008
"Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby."
-Langston Hughes

"No." she said to herself as she attempted to finish her painting. "It can't rain now, I was so close." Her brush flies like a jet plane at unheard of speeds. Yes,her brush was a plane and she was the pilot. It was her first flight, but she'd clocked in endless hours of practice, mastering the turns and manuevers needed for a succesfel flight, but she'd never been prepared for a crash like this. The rain pounds down on her like a hammer nailing her into the boards of depression. Why couldn't she finish just one painting? Her masterpiece had become nothing by then, what took her hours was destroyed as quickly as she became confident she would finish. she violently curses the rain, hating the wet demons falling upon her. but then she imagined her children at home, probably playing in the puddles and having the time of their lives. So she began to thank the rain, because at least it was making someone happy.

I know it is terrible, so don't be afraid to tell me.

That was awesome. You actually strike me as a writer who would be better at poetry than prose.

This isn't bad at all, it's quite good. I enjoyed.

Y'know. I like this, FaSho. Given the quote I would've taken a different approach, but I like yours quite a bit. Agree with khfreek in that I think you'd be kick ass at poetry.

Aww shucks, thanks guys.

More shat for you people who seem to like it.

December 3rd, 2008
"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep...and I have miles to go before i sleep."
-Robert Frost

Darkness begins to swallow me as the sun falls from it's etheral perch atop the trees. I wave goodbye to it, and it ignores me. Whatever, I'll see it again tommorow. I pull my flashlight out of a worn bag slung around my shoulders. The sun was guiding me to camp, but now I was on my own. I knew i had a limited anmount of time to return before the dark's frigid arms embraced me, and dragged me into the shadows. I trek on using memorized patterns of the starts to get home, but the stars seem to dissapear, and so does my confidence. The ever approaching night assimilates me into it's hysteria. I am lost I tell myself. no, can't be i try to reassure my shaking body. I lay down and give myself up to the darkness. Hopefully the sun would remember me in the morning, because she was all that could save me now.

Obviously I can't write in first-person for crap.

December 12, 2008
"Thought is only a flash between long nights, but this flash is everything."
-Henri Poncare

He was smart. Not just smart in the way that he always raised his hand in class, reaching for the stars to impress his uncaring instructors with his knowledge, but in a different sense, he knew how to do things, how to make beautiful art, and he knew the world. He was a vicious lion in the art room, attacking sculptures like someone would attack someone who has done them wrong. Always challenging himself. And even though he was so intelligent in skilled, his mind went blank when the clay was placed in front of him on that burning day; stunned. The hot sun beat down upon him like naysayers telling him what he can and can't accomplish. He wasn't like that. Tell him what to do and he wouldn't, but let him on his own and something amazing would form. So as he sat on the back porch of the art studio, he knew what he wanted to sculpt. The one person who'd helped him through everything. Unloving family, cruel school children, his own insanity, one person had always been there. Himself. The only one that ever really loved him. his greatest masterpiece would be that of his vain hero, the one that would never save anyone.

How the hell do you write these things O_o

And yeah, that first person one wasn't that good of a read.

i take this as a compliment?

Yes you do, I only know one kid in my own grade that even comes close, and it's not me ;)

What grade are you in?

8th.

Some of your metaphors make me cringe just a little, but only because I forget you are only 14 or so. You could develop into an excellent writer if you keep at it.

Why are you wasting your time writing little paragraphs. Use this stuff to write songs! That's what I do, mostly because I suck at grammar and no one cares about clauses and sh*t in music. Good stuff though.

BUMP

2/20/09
I'm not goin to put the quote, because my writing really had nothing to do with it.

He was like worn leather, tattered and bruised. His skin hung from his bones like clothes out todry. he wore a threadbare top that didn't bother to hide his visible ribs. He wqas born of fake promises and well written lies, and could not find home in the state of desolation his knowledge of the world had put him in. His tears were a sign of his dashed goals, never to beaccomplished, bu this was not the end. He wiped away his tears, and began to smile as the sun's eyes blazed through him, warming his chapped lips and filling his empty stomach with hope. He stood up and trudged along, full o a newfound pride. He was no longer just a starving child, he had seen the sun, he had seen the eyes of something greater then him, and was no longer lost.

I really like using the sun as a metaphor for hope, it's a reccuring theme in my writing.

thats my favorite Robert Frost poem

Poetry nerd. haha

From the looks of it your a natural at painting simple concepts/stories. Very good imagery built of good similes and metaphors, and on top of that, you deliver a point. I would also like to see some poetry. Who knows what you could sculpt, if you put a few hours thought into it.

Your very gifted with imagery Fa Sho. And I love Robert Frost. ("...And were an epitaph to be my story I'd have a short one ready for my own. I'd have written of me on my stone: I had a lover's quarrel with the world."). I think I'd enjoy from you though, a little bit of grit. Just to try. I look forward to your stuff though. :)

2/11/09

This is for darkconerinthecloset :rofl:

Crash. I dropped to my knees, pain searing through the wildfire of my legs. My brain split, revealing my malevoent thoughts with benevolent reasoning. I was tred of the lies, tired of the spiraling abyss that tryed to assimilate me daily. Tired of crying myself to sleep. Tears like rain pour down on my selfconbious. A cruel remnant of the tears I've cried, the blood I've bled. I'm tired of the reflection in the mirror, scorning me with it's craggy features. Pale kin, bloodshot eyes, lips that dove and rose in such a chapped formation. I was tired ofmy life I realized. it all came crashing down, the pain, all at once, hence my inabillity to stand. I am glass. I have shattered.

FaSho's Terrible writing Corner,
 

:DO.K. youngsters representin'!:clap: That is good writing and thick, meaty imagery.:yeah:
Mmmmm Great force in this one, Jedi Poet he may be. Practice he will. Growth? He must. ( in my best Yoda voice) Control it he must learn,mmmm,
true test that will be.

Here's some poems I don't really like that I wrote, just felt like this needed a bump.

GUARDRAILS (We Ran Until)
Fall Apart
Mend Again
Hate Your Words
Be My Friend

It's A Cage Fight
Is There Really A Winner?
Is It Just More Blood On The Bars?
Just Keep Punching
Because He Won't Listen
Make Him Bleed and Maybe He'll Understand

What A Trainwreck
We're Screeching Off the Tracks
I; Watching
Two Best Friends
Stab Eachother In The Back
I've Got An Extra Ticket
Do You Want To Watch
The Show With Me?

Maybe I'm Not Good Enough
The Sun Is Shining Down On Us
But It's
Masked By The Clouds
I Bet It Scares You
That
They Will Never Go Away
But It's Worth It
Keep Pushing
This Dream's Not Worth Loosing
Please
Just Let Me Stay

Little Boy Darfur
*NOTE: this was written for a project I did earlier this year about the genocides in Sudan.*
I breathe through my mouth
But the air never reaches
My lungs
My Tongue
Is bleeding
Tired from speaking
The words that they’re feeding
Into my brain
My pain
Is hidden
By scars from the war
My beliefs are shattered
The dreams mean nothing anymore
The thoughts overtake me
They brainwashed my home
The ones that survived
Have no control of their lives
Told by their sick masters
To fight to the grave

I’m screaming
But the sound is masked
By the gunshots
That ring out through the camp
All they hear is the Yes sir
Of my own defeat
One day I’ll awaken
From their cruel deceit

Will I die today?
Would I like it better that way?
Wouldn’t have to worry
About my family
Torn by disgrace
Never seen the face
Of death
So close
So close
The ones who’s minds survived
Who refuse to behave
The ones they remember
They’ll march past their graves

I’m screaming
But the sound is masked
By the gunshots
That ring out through the camp
All they hear is the Yes sir
Of my own defeat
One day I’ll awaken
From their cruel deceit

I see the sunlight
(I see the sky)
I see the moonlight
(I see in their eyes)
Will I die today?
(Will I go away?)
The ashes that burn
Now it’s my turn
To avenge my friends and the ones who were tough
The ones who ended it because It was too
Rough
Will I live to see the sun fall?
Will I live to see you smile?
The first is appalling
The latter Is dire
I’ll fall
But not because I’m a quitter
Together with the survivors
I’ll fight to the grave

This is amazing, Dustin. This has to be my favourite.


Edit: And I love the Darfur poem.

hot damn this is some good stuff put up some more if you get a chance

FaSho, you're writing is really good. Keep it up.