Boys. Not ONLY boys, but... Boys.

[The Aspiring Archivist any pronouns]

5 minutes ago, Gregorio said:

Well I'm seriously considering becoming an author. I'm probably leaving on a mission this year and I can learn how to write from youtube or other things without wasting hundred of dollars. I may have to be part time author and do something else for a time, but I'm honestly not sure. We'll see how I feel in the next two years.

Being an author would be cool... I don't think I have what it takes.

I do have a lot of other interests.

Edited February 17, 2023 by The Aspiring Archivist

[Lord Gregorio he/him]

3 minutes ago, The Aspiring Archivist said:

Being an author would be cool... I don't think I have what it takes.

I do have a lot of other interests.

Ya. It would be awesome to finally publish a book, it's kinda been my dream for like seven or eight years, since I was in sixth grade. 

It's good to have lots of interests. That way you can find something else if one thing doesn't work out. I did a bit of graphic design in high school, so maybe I'd go to a trade school like Bridgerland if writing doesn't work at first.

[The Aspiring Archivist any pronouns]

Just now, Gregorio said:

Ya. It would be awesome to finally publish a book, it's kinda been my dream for like seven or eight years, since I was in sixth grade. 

It's good to have lots of interests. That way you can find something else if one thing doesn't work out. I did a bit of graphic design in high school, so maybe I'd go to a trade school like Bridgerland if writing doesn't work at first.

That's cool!

I'm not a very artistic person. Except if you count poetry, I guess.

[Wittles he/him]

1 minute ago, The Aspiring Archivist said:

That's cool!

I'm not a very artistic person. Except if you count poetry, I guess.

poetry definitely counts as a form of art

[Lord Gregorio he/him]

3 minutes ago, The Aspiring Archivist said:

That's cool!

I'm not a very artistic person. Except if you count poetry, I guess.

Thanks. I love poetry and it's definitely artistic. If writing is artistic, so is poetry.

Also. Songs are basically poetry.

Edited February 17, 2023 by Gregorio

[The Aspiring Archivist any pronouns]

Just now, Witless of Shinovar said:

poetry definitely counts as a form of art

I probably won't get anywhere with it, though. Nor is my poetry particularly groundbreaking.

[Lord Gregorio he/him]

Just now, The Aspiring Archivist said:

I probably won't get anywhere with it, though. Nor is my poetry particularly groundbreaking.

*shrugs* you never know. It's good to have hobbies though.

[Wittles he/him]

Just now, The Aspiring Archivist said:

I probably won't get anywhere with it, though. Nor is my poetry particularly groundbreaking.

It's very nice, but yeah. Poetry is probably really hard to get profit from

[Lord Gregorio he/him]

Just now, Witless of Shinovar said:

It's very nice, but yeah. Poetry is probably really hard to get profit from

Ya.  Agreed.

[The Aspiring Archivist any pronouns]

2 minutes ago, Gregorio said:

*shrugs* you never know. It's good to have hobbies though.

2 minutes ago, Witless of Shinovar said:

It's very nice, but yeah. Poetry is probably really hard to get profit from

Well I have gotten a little better at it by writing them on the shard, so that's fun.

[Lord Gregorio he/him]

Just now, The Aspiring Archivist said:

Well I have gotten a little better at it by writing them on the shard, so that's fun.

That's awesome. I feel the same way. Practice makes less unperfect.

[Wittles he/him]

1 minute ago, Gregorio said:

That's awesome. I feel the same way. Practice makes less unperfect.

The wise words of Gregorio

[Lord Gregorio he/him]

Just now, Witless of Shinovar said:

The wise words of Gregorio

I feel sooo wise.

I feel a hundred times wiser just because my profile has a top hat.

[Wittles he/him]

Just now, Gregorio said:

I feel sooo wise.

I feel a hundred times wiser just because my profile has a top hat.

Lol. Top hats are a quick way to feel superior

[The Aspiring Archivist any pronouns]

3 minutes ago, Gregorio said:

That's awesome. I feel the same way. Practice makes less unperfect.

Perhaps someday my poetry will be good enough to share outside of here.

[Lord Gregorio he/him]

Just now, The Aspiring Archivist said:

Perhaps someday my poetry will be good enough to share outside of here.

I mean, it's got to be better than someone's. Somewhere.

[The Aspiring Archivist any pronouns]

7 minutes ago, Gregorio said:

I mean, it's got to be better than someone's. Somewhere.

It's not too bad, or so I've been told

[Lord Gregorio he/him]

Just now, The Aspiring Archivist said:

It's not too bad, or so I've been told

It can't be. If you've done it multiple times. Poetry is wack though, it's hard to make it seem special or cool or whatever.

[The Aspiring Archivist any pronouns]

1 minute ago, Gregorio said:

It can't be. If you've done it multiple times. Poetry is wack though, it's hard to make it seem special or cool or whatever.

Mine is all just depressing

[Lord Gregorio he/him]

Just now, The Aspiring Archivist said:

Mine is all just depressing

That's how a lot of mine go.

[The Aspiring Archivist any pronouns]

Just now, Gregorio said:

That's how a lot of mine go.

We should do a poetry exchange!

[Lord Gregorio he/him]

12 minutes ago, The Aspiring Archivist said:

We should do a poetry exchange!

Maybe if I write some I will. I've not done it in a while though. From what I remember I wrote some dark-ish ones though. I do have one that I tried to write for a story I was writing in an old England-ish setting. I was writing about a man who's father had disappeared during a war. and he wrote poetry about how he guessed he'd died.

I'll just throw one here. This is prolly one of my longest poems. Darn. After copying this down, I wanna do more poetry.

Spoiler

Dying Man

My finger slides along the blade,

as the light begins to fade.

The scenery my eyes take in

to remind me of my great sin.

The grass is red, the sky blue

the soldier's dead and a sword struck true.

My heart, it aches in such a pain,

and tears shall surely join the rain.

 

"Goodbye, sad world" were the last few

words that from my mouth did spew.

I'll not return, though I promised to.

I break my oath to all my kin.

But what vict'ry did which army win?

I'll ne'er know, the war at fin.

I struck some blows, some kills I made.

I helped to save souls from raid.

 

But still I die as blood flows free,

From the wounds spread on me.

My mind blank, my muscles weak,

above my head the vultures seek.

The sun is so low in the sky

that out of caves, dark bats fly.

This beautiful sight is all I see,

Before I die, my life took from me.

 

Edited February 17, 2023 by Gregorio

[The Aspiring Archivist any pronouns]

2 minutes ago, Gregorio said:

Maybe if I write some I will. I've not done it in a while though. From what I remember I wrote some dark-ish ones though. I do have one that I tried to write for a story I was writing in an old England-ish setting. I was writing about a man who's father had disappeared during a war. and he wrote poetry about how he guessed he'd died.

I'll just throw one here just so you can feel better about your writing. This is prolly one of my longest poems. Darn. After copying this down, I wanna do more poetry.

  Reveal hidden contents

Dying Man

My finger slides along the blade,

as the light begins to fade.

The scenery my eyes take in

to remind me of my great sin.

The grass is red, the sky blue

the soldier's dead and a sword struck true.

My heart, it aches in such a pain,

and tears shall surely join the rain.

 

"Goodbye, sad world" were the last few

words that from my mouth did spew.

I'll not return, though I promised to.

I break my oath to all my kin.

But what vict'ry did which army win?

I'll ne'er know, the war at fin.

I struck some blows, some kills I made.

I helped to save souls from raid.

 

But still I die as blood flows free,

From the wounds spread on me.

My mind blank, my muscles weak,

above my head the vultures seek.

The sun is so low in the sky

that out of caves, dark bats fly.

This beautiful sight is all I see,

Before I die, my life took from me.

 

Wow. Mine have just sort of been about my own feelings and experiences. So when I say depressing, I kind of mean about depression

I've been posting these in SUs

Spoiler

There's a pit in my chest that's growing and growing.

There's no sign anytime of stopping or slowing.

I hold it shut tight to keep it from showing.

If there'll be a light, there's no way of knowing.

 

I watch as my peers, family and friends.

Are consumed by this hole that seems not to end.

Some make it out, and then start to mend.

Others get worse, and others it bends.

 

They "commit," we say, like they had to choose.

Like it was their fault that we all had to lose.

But make no mistake, this phrase is a ruse.

When it comes to disease like that pit, we can't choose.

 

I had my first of those thoughts yesterday.

I don't see a sign of them going away.

There's something to do, or to write, or to say.

But fear and anxiety make me just stay.

 

It doesn't scare me like I thought it would do.

It's worrying, painful, sorrowful, true.

But I can't comprehend what it tends to come to.

I imagine I won't until I see it through.

 

We fight, and we pray, and we reach, and we cry.

For those people whose pits have led them to die.

To help, there's people who'd certainly try.

And yet, the pit's hidden for those such as I.

 

We're all in a balance, me and you, you and me.

We each try to hold each one up straight and plead.

And we must persist, until each of them see

That they needn't end themselves to be set free.

 

Remind of love, remind them we care.

If you can, ask them what feelings are there.

It isn't easy, but I urge you to dare.

This shouldn't be any one person's to bear.

Spoiler

Today someone asked how I was,

And I said "alright" like before.

Lately my thoughts start to fuzz.

My introspection no more.

 

I don't know for sure if it's true,

These dozens of my self-perceptions.

No urgency seems to come through

From layers of doubt and depression.

 

Is all that I'm saying a lie?

Do I bother for something that's blurry?

I don't know if I want to die

Or if there's no true cause for my worry.

 

How do I speak?

Please someone remind me.

The future is bleak,

I left it behind me.

 

I need to cry,

but the tears never flow.

Don't keep standing by,

It's all just a show.

 

[Lord Gregorio he/him]

2 minutes ago, The Aspiring Archivist said:

Wow. Mine have just sort of been about my own feelings and experiences. So when I say depressing, I kind of mean about depression

I've been posting these in SUs

  Reveal hidden contents

There's a pit in my chest that's growing and growing.

There's no sign anytime of stopping or slowing.

I hold it shut tight to keep it from showing.

If there'll be a light, there's no way of knowing.

 

I watch as my peers, family and friends.

Are consumed by this hole that seems not to end.

Some make it out, and then start to mend.

Others get worse, and others it bends.

 

They "commit," we say, like they had to choose.

Like it was their fault that we all had to lose.

But make no mistake, this phrase is a ruse.

When it comes to disease like that pit, we can't choose.

 

I had my first of those thoughts yesterday.

I don't see a sign of them going away.

There's something to do, or to write, or to say.

But fear and anxiety make me just stay.

 

It doesn't scare me like I thought it would do.

It's worrying, painful, sorrowful, true.

But I can't comprehend what it tends to come to.

I imagine I won't until I see it through.

 

We fight, and we pray, and we reach, and we cry.

For those people whose pits have led them to die.

To help, there's people who'd certainly try.

And yet, the pit's hidden for those such as I.

 

We're all in a balance, me and you, you and me.

We each try to hold each one up straight and plead.

And we must persist, until each of them see

That they needn't end themselves to be set free.

 

Remind of love, remind them we care.

If you can, ask them what feelings are there.

It isn't easy, but I urge you to dare.

This shouldn't be any one person's to bear.

  Reveal hidden contents

Today someone asked how I was,

And I said "alright" like before.

Lately my thoughts start to fuzz.

My introspection no more.

 

I don't know for sure if it's true,

These dozens of my self-perceptions.

No urgency seems to come through

From layers of doubt and depression.

 

Is all that I'm saying a lie?

Do I bother for something that's blurry?

I don't know if I want to die

Or if there's no true cause for my worry.

 

How do I speak?

Please someone remind me.

The future is bleak,

I left it behind me.

 

I need to cry,

but the tears never flow.

Don't keep standing by,

It's all just a show.

 

I knew what you meant, I had some of those once upon a time, but I've stopped cuz I'm not as depressed as I was a bit ago. (Not that I wrote much poetry anyway.) As you see. I like writing stories even in poetry.  

Edited February 17, 2023 by Gregorio

[The Aspiring Archivist any pronouns]

Just now, Gregorio said:

I knew what you meant, I had some of those once upon a time, but I've stopped cuz I'm not as depressed as I was a bit ago. 

Well, good for you. I liked the poem.