#random poetry game

[griseldabanks]

Random Poetry Game

Rules: Put a playlist on shuffle. The first line of the first song is the first line of your poem. The second line of the second song is the second line of your poem, and so on. If you come to an instrumental song that has no words whatsoever, skip it. When you get to a song that does not have enough lines, that is the end of your poem.

Here's the poem I made from the music on my phone:

Ladies and gents, sorry to keep y'all waiting Not exactly who you think I am Crystal white and clean With bullets that fly and kill what you've won The truth is I've been dying slowly As the fruit upon the tree I want you to notice That I used to be

I wanna heal, I wanna feel My slumber won't end Why give up? Cerf-volant (We want a reason to live)

What if I'm still ashamed? They said I'd never make a difference on this microphone You and your twisted minds

Sleep--angels will watch over you But I won't let go of the very thought of you I am still running that narrow line No, I'm not saying sorry

//Linkin Park - I Have Not Begun // Thousand Foot Krutch - Be Somebody // Llynya - Visions of a Dream // Yellowcard - Paper Walls // Starset - Disappear // eastmountainsouth - So Are You to Me // Innerpartysystem - Obsession // Hoobastank - More Than a Memory // Linkin Park - Somewhere I Belong // Starset - Dreamcatcher // Breaking Benjamin - Until the End // Cerf-Volant from Les Choristes // Skillet - Looking for Angels // Red - The Outside // Thousand Foot Krutch - Down // Tarja - In for a Kill // Secret Garden - Prayer // Vic Mignogna - The Very Thought of You // 38th Parallel - Horizon // 30 Seconds to Mars - Closer to the Edge//

[ignalina-c0re]

WIP (folder) Wednesday

tagged again by the lovely @thegrandpineapple :x

How it works:

Post a screenshot of your WIP folder and then share some progress/snippets whatever you want to share about some of our WIP's (or all of them). The idea is to hopefully get people inspired to work on WIPs they maybe haven't worked on in a while or get others interested and asking about WIP's that look intriguing to them.

The SRP folder is a mess, so you get my notes instead, and P&P only has one (1) bit tentatively named "let's go up in flames" :,D

From smallest to largest:

The Glittering Curve of the Stars - A Disco Elysium paledriver AU Clegan, where the Buckies are piloting a cargo aerostatic through the pale, and things go very, very wrong halfway through the trip. John is extremely overexposed to the pale because of however many trips and years of working this job, and half of his memories aren't even his. Gale is his new rudderman, and he lost someone he doesn't remember having. Memories get muddy.

Footsteps echo in the wooden body of the gondola; they belong to John, who steps over to the gas panel, checking the values; they belong to the man stepping on to the flight deck, and John stares at him from the elevator wheel. He's his new rudderman, and they've never met before; they've done dozens of trips together, and John could draw the constellation of freckles on his cheek from memory. He's precisely drawn and beautiful, like an icon of Dolores Dei herself; he's precisely drawn and beautiful, and he puts Dolores Dei herself to shame. John doesn't know him, doesn't know his name; he always calls him Buck, and he loves him.

Peonies & Poetry - It's a Clegan coffeeshop AU I guess?? Bucky is a barista, a gym rat, and the world's worst English major, and Gale is a neurotic poet who is probably definitely on drugs. Gale is writing a cross between erotica and love letters to Bucky under a pseudonym that's so far removed from who he is in person that it's basically untraceable, until Curt Biddick and his dot-connecting superpowers happen, and then Bucky has to somehow deal with the fact that the married man so far out of his league it might as well be another universe that he's had a crush on for half a year wants to fuck him really bad, and a few thousand people have read exactly how he wants to fuck him in his latest book.

The Poet is indeed very pretty. Elegant might be a better word for it. He’s willowy tall, with long legs and a trim waist offset by wide shoulders, like a drawing from a fashion magazine. The severe lines of his ink black clothes mirror the severe line of his jaw, the sharp cheekbones and heavy brows. His features, in contrast, are delicately made: he has plush looking lips, full and almost too big for his face, were not the curve of them being so beautiful it’s like they were painted by the Old Masters with loving care; his eyes behind the silver wireframe glasses are the color of the sea on a sunny day, a little melancholy and a lot tired, dark circles almost like bruises under them. John wonders if he ever sleeps at all, or just puts himself on a shelf to charge, next to his sleek chrome laptop and sleek chrome phone, ready to go when his battery hits 100%, clothes still flawless and golden hair still gelled into artistically tumbling waves. 

Stall Recovery Procedures - my baby <3

A BuckyXBuckXRosie post-war happy-end creature where the three of them become airline pilots. It started as "what if i took the three prettiest men in mota, stuck them in the prettiest airplane in the world, and made them fuck, wouldn't that be fun" and now i have seven parts planned, so far 6k words about gale having a mental breakdown that's not even nearly done, three parts about john contemplating his unfortunate taste in men, an entire love letter to the lockheed constellation, one part for indulgent threesome smut with two paragraphs written where i compare rosie to a run-over frog, and this meme:

Pugachev's Cobra - Rosie POV of the entire story of SRP, a sort of overarching narrative I guess? All the other bits are just me elaborating on Cobra basically

Rosie, for his part, thought he was doing okay. After all, when was he not doing okay? He saw hundreds of comrades fall from the sky and he did okay, he trekked through no man’s land with a broken arm and did okay, he dodged bullets, rockets, flak and fists and he did okay, he saw piles of corpses and the gas chambers of Poznan and he did okay. 

Somatogravic Illusion - John POV of his and Gale's reunion after the Stalag, and their one kiss that ruined/saved them forever

Bucky touched the ghost of Gale on his lips, a motion more like drawing a cross in worship than it was just a touch. He knew that either he’ll take this to his grave, or this will be what takes him to his grave.

Holding Patterns - Rosie POV, my newest insane idea. Rosie starts a letter writing campaign to befriend John, and it ends up working a little too well. My big idea for this is that I'm going to make it a mixed media fic: I'm making the letters, and we get glimpses of Rosie's life and his late night phone calls to John inbetween

Graveyard Spiral - Gale POV, Gale is very much not okay post-war, leaves Marge, washes up at John's place because of course he does, and the two of them proceed to go on a mutually self-destructive bender lasting several months until Rosie turns up with an interesting idea...

He dreams that Bucky leans down to press his lips on his forehead, sweet and lingering. He dreams that Bucky peppers his face with with little kisses, each one a tiny flame, drying tear tracks, soothing the ugly bruise across his nose, igniting something, that then fizzes out into radio static and indistinct boozy numbness. He dreams that he tilts his head up and captures Bucky's lips with his own anyway. It's a chaste little thing, soft and fleeting; he feels Bucky smile into it.

Autokinesis - John POV companion to Graveyard, because I couldn't leave John's messy internal monologue well enough alone lmao

The war against himself, against the wholly inappropriate need to kiss Buck until he makes that sweet noise again, feels like it wages on for an eternity, and ends in a truce. John lowers himself slowly, and presses his lips to Buck's fever-hot forehead, a single spark of contact sending fire down the line until the entire system is an inferno; until he can't keep himself from ghosting soft kisses lower, over the bloom of the bruise, over Buck's lids drifting shut, over silvery tear tracks tasting of salt, over a day's faint prickling stubble. Buck tilts his head up slightly, and captures John's lips. It's the fuel tanks rupturing, obliterating every thought in John's head in a fiery explosion, save for I love you, I love you, good God, I love you.

Black Hole Approach - John POV, an exploration of how you move on after you and the love of your life destroyed each other. Set during airline pilot training, and includes a birthday, half a proposal, and lots of realizations

The chill winds that took up around September are bracing in a way that makes him not want to slip back into the blissful embrace of booze. Instead, he looks at the stars, picking out constellations that Buck taught him: Orion, Canis Major, Ursa Minor, Polaris winking at him like an old friend. When the sky is too cloudy, or his head is too heavy to raise, he looks at the landing lights, constellations on their own, guiding sailors home just the same: REIL, edge lights, center lights, steady and unwavering. They don't make him feel grounded, they make him feel tethered, a safety line back to life that won't let him float away into ruin.

CFIT - Rosie POV: had enough angst? Okay then, we're going out with a bang (literally). Or: the Buckies had enough of cautiously courting Rosie, and on a hot summer day in Bangkok, they decide to instead get him drunk and fuck his brains out. And then they live happily ever after <3

There is a short pause. And then a wolf-whistle from John. "Goddamn, Rosenthal. No wonder you flew like that." Rosie is so perplexed by that, he almost forgets to be embarrassed. "Flew like what?" "Like you don't need to compensate for anything. Although now I wonder how you fit into the flight suit. You sure you can handle him, doll?" Gale hums, tracing a hand down Rosie's front. He scratches into the dark curls of his pubic hair, teasing: Rosie can't help the soft moan escaping his lips, the pleasant shiver running through his body. He also can't help his damn nervous babbling. "Who flew like they compensate?" John stops his ministrations behind Gale, who looks back at him quizzically. The moment stretches on, motionless. Then Gale blurts out: "Brady." "Oh, Brady, definitely," agrees John immediately. He chuckles softly, and twists his wrist, earning a throaty groan from Gale. "Little John, always so agitated. Perhaps about his Little John." "You though, you took a B-17, and made it do goddamn ballet." Gale's eyes glimmer with wonder; it makes Rosie flush hot at the compliment. "Now we know how you managed that." Before Rosie can come out with more nonsense babbling, Gale wraps his long fingers around his cock and starts stroking him at a leisurely pace, never breaking eye contact. His gaze is dark and hungry and entirely focused on Rosie, like a lion staring at it's prey. Rosie's thoughts fizzle out.

This is entirely too long and I spent entirely too long making it orz

(I wrote the CFIT snippet just for this post please love me)

Come yell with me about my weird brain children!!

Tagging: @swifty-fox, @feyd-meowtha, @middlingmay, @wwasted no pressure tho :>

[crankycripple]

may you all develop new skills this year, and read lots of books, and contact someone you haven’t heard from in years, and heal from things that have hurt you, and find peace, wherever you are.

orange and cinnamon hot chocolate recipe

a cool thing about people

a semi difficult slight of hand trick to practise

happy new year <3

[charzeewrites]

Hi 👋, My name is Mohammad, and I’m reaching out in a moment of desperate need. I’m a father of three young children living in Gaza, and we are caught in the midst of a catastrophic war. Our home is no longer a safe haven, and the future here seems increasingly uncertain. 💔

I’ve launched a fundraising campaign with the goal of raising $40,000 to relocate my family to a safer place where my children can grow up in peace and have a chance at a brighter future.

Unfortunately, my previous fundraising efforts were abruptly halted when my account was terminated without explanation. However, I remain determined to keep fighting for my family’s safety and well-being. 🫶

If you could take a moment to read our story, consider donating, or simply share our campaign with others, it would make an incredible difference. Every act of kindness, no matter how small, brings us one step closer to safety and a new beginning. 🙏

Thank you for your time, compassion, and support. ❤️‍🩹

https://gofund.me/fd1faea2 🔗

Everything about this whole situation breaks my heart. It's utterly shattering. Do something to help, donate if you can and reblog this regardless.

https://gofund.me/fd1faea2

[theintro-vertedstorm]

Location: Gaming.

Been Lookin 4 Someone 2 Co-Op With…

or Maybe Run A Crew.

Either League Some Justice

Or Suicide The Squad…. Up to you.

Matter fact you player one,

But I’m still guiding through

Enjoying this adventure as a player too (2).

Just us boo….

Feel fame once we both beat the whole game

Grab a joint, cause smoke

(Do stuff not in the script)

And snooze.

[this-vs-that]

This question was sent to our inbox. If you’d like for us to post a This or That poll for you, send the 2 things you want to see against each other to our inbox and we’ll let the people decide which one they prefer. Everything will be anonymous.

[jellojolteon]

Honestly there's probably some really hilarious like. I dunno. The usage of polls on this site and their evolution in time could probably be turned into a sociological study

Reminds me of contemporary art in some sense actually so

[micamicster]

For the ask game - how about this one? https://allpoetry.com/On-The-100th-Anniversary-Of-Anna-Akhmatova

ooh i love this! i love the opening lines, the imagery feels archaic somehow, and then the shift to god-expression to mortal expression is beautiful. "The fire and the page, the hewed hairs and the swords/The grains and the millstone, the whispers and the clatter --/God saves all that--"

poetry ask game!

[twopathsdiverge]

No art would exist without the courage to be seen

[sergeantnarwhalwrites]

Some random stuff including poems my professor treated like shit one the second one's format is called a sestina and I really hate the format. Interesting. But I could live never doing it again. And some doodles on my draft protocol for my thesis. It's all images sorry peoples with bad wifi.

@sirazaroff @malloen8c @winterandwords @the-void-writes @liv-is @outpost51 @nanashi23

Hero's Disdain 👇🏾

Student 👇🏾

Random doodles (Drew my baby girl Saz from memory and with pen)

[sesamenom]

You have dark hair.

also correct!

[outer-edges]

original content side blog

^^^for more writing check me out here! i was fairly inactive but should be kicking into gear soon!

heyo! i'm mattie and this is the quick obligatory intro post. you know. everything basic from the bio. all of my works can be found on my here on my ao3!

asks are always open! i promise i don't bite and i love meeting people! i do technically take requests, but my writing brain is run by a couple of gremlins simmering in leftover teenage angst and burgeoning adult melancholy, so i can't make any promises. but i will try my best, of course!

i have so so many thoughts about the things i write about so please feel free to talk to me about it

i have a spotify for my fic playlists!

[punk-raphaelite]

Just spent the entire day uploading random jpegs, mp3s, pdfs and other digital detritus to a 2003 eMac for my senior studio crit tomorrow

I am not sure my profs will like it or get it and I’m nervous!

[randomrichards]

PINBALL: THE MAN WHO SAVED PINBALL

Struggling writer

Exonerated Pinball

Meta biopic

[magicalblerdpenn]

I don't usually post my creative writing on here, but I wanted to share this video game poem I wrote inspired by the game The World Ends With You, written in the voice of Neku as he talks to Joshua at the end of the game. It's called "From Neku To Joshua".

I wrote several drafts of this poem over many months while dealing with a lot and finally finished it at the end of March. The first draft was written in July 2023, not long after I beat the game a second time. Its story, characters, and themes hit me harder than when I played the first time in 2018 or 2019. I'm proud of the poem because it represents how far I've come as a person since I started unpacking stuff in 2022.

It and another video game poem inspired by Dragon Quest were professionally published at the video game literary magazine Videodame. These are my first creative writing acceptances in a year.