Book Potato's scribbles (3 Viewers)

[potato]

I've always wanted to show my ideas and thoughts to people and I though this was the perfect place. They're just vague paragraphs, pieces of descriptions, small poems or short stories that I wrote so they can't really be published properly.

I hope you guys enjoy them <3

 

[potato]

Here is the first one: It was originally a short paragraph but I turned it into a poem

Ermordung

Orange hues and streaks of red fill the sky
As light peeks over hills dotted with grazing cows.
A sweet aroma lingers from the morning dew and
Flowers of vibrant colours begin to bloom.
Birds glide over the hills in search of food as
Animals of the kingdom begin to wake.
All is peaceful; all is calm.
Beauty at its finest.

Yet, deep underneath this haven,
Lies darkness.
Vines, pitch black in colour,
Twist and curl
Slowly towards the surface,
Toxicating the rich soil;
Poisoning the land.

Cows fall dead.
Flowers wither and shrivel.
Animals retreat in fear.
All while the vines begin to burst through the surface of the earth,
Continuing their morbid journey.

What is left, you may ask?
The grass has long gone,
All previous life forms have vanished;
Either dead,
Or fled in fear.
Barren and corrupted lands are all that are left.
A place where plants no longer thrive and
The vines continue to grow.
Truly beauty at its finest.

 

[honeyfornomoney]

Wow

 

[Skinnny]

That's some fine writing.

 

[potato]

Wow

That's some fine writing.

Thank you. I'm so happy you both like it.

 

[potato]

The imagery here is so vivid, it's great!

Thank you <3

 

[Mayday]

This is so incredible, woah.

 

[potato]

This is so incredible, woah.

Thank you <333

 

[potato]

I've just realised all the stuff I write is pretty dark

Here is the next one. It's actually inspired by a book called 'The Lord of the Flies'. It's about a group of kids stuck on an island by themselves and how they all end up going crazy. They believe that there is a beast on the island but in reality it's just them and, in a way, they are the 'beast'. It features lines from the book as well:

Screaming, he thrashed around in his frenzied state, the numbing metal of the chains penetrating his skin, cutting the soft flesh of his wrists. He knew his meaningless efforts would accomplish nothing yet he continued to cry out for help while his screams grew weaker until his voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

“Calm down,” said a boy next to him; his voice was urgent and pleading “The monster will hear you if you don’t stop and it’ll do you in. Then we’ll all be dead.”

He did not want to stop. He did not want to succumb to this monstrous beast the same way he had done to his father. Distant memories filled with the fetor of tobacco and the cacophony of glass bottles crashing to the ground and the foul, foul odour - fouler than the stench of a carcass - of his father’s breath permeated through his mind. He shook his head violently. Now was not the time to think of the past.

“Please,” the despairing voice ringed in his ears.

Desperately tugging at the shackles above him in one more meager attempt to escape, he ceased his plea and surrendered to the monster.

 

[potato]

Wow, it leaves a lot to the imagination, and I think that's a good thing. It really draws you into those awful happenings, which you handled well c: The transition to his awful memories, especially, stood out to me. Also, there's nothing wrong with dark. Don't worry!

Thank you

this is so good!!

Spoiler

] i'm not sure if you were looking for any constructive reveiws, if not you really don't have to read it because its already 99% there and pretty much perfect, so if you don't wan to read this go a head and completely ignore it

the only slight change i'd make is the "you may ask?" part. to me it has a different vibe then the rest of the poem. the rest is communicated in a way where you can really just picture the enviornment and its more like an image and a feeling rather than some one telling youand to even be able to pull readers into that mindset so easily is a fantastic skill you have, i almost forgot i was even reading words, thats how into the description i felt., and then with the "you may ask" its like out of no where you are being addressed by a narrarator or story teller, it pulls you out of that magic moment that was being cultivated through out the rest of the poem. This poem is 99% perfect, but if there was one thing to make it 100% for me it would be to cut out those three words "you may ask"

either way the poem is great so don't take my words with too much meaning, you are an amazing writter.

Thank you for your advice. I'll try changing it around to see if it's better. I really appreciate it <3

 

[potato]

After a long time, I finally have something else to show you guys
I'm not that proud of this one but it's something nevertheless. It was a school assignment. I used a few lines from some of my previous writings as well so there may be a few lines from some of the writing above:

Gripping tightly onto his old, wooden stick, the hunched figure slowly hobbled his way through the train aisle. Trembling, he reached out his gnarled hands to one of the seats. His wrinkled folds were set in stone and wisps of hair stuck to his forehead like candy floss. He was like an ancient tortoise, lumbering his way forward through the angry crowds. However, his eyes were that of a childlike hare, bouncing and jumping and tumbling through fields. His bright, blue eyes spoke of great wisdom, laughter and affection; something which his demeanor failed to do. Scrunching up his pale face, he lowered himself down into the seat and gave out a sigh.

Mr. Davis was a wrinkled creature. His youth had crumbled away like an outdated biscuit, sucking all the energy from him until all that remained was a brittle skeleton of a man. Fragile as a spider’s web, he looked as though a puff of wind could blow him down. Despite his sickly manner, deep creases were carved onto his face like a map of life, telling stories of great adventure and incredible journeys. He layed back into his seat and closed his eyes, making himself more comfortable.

Muffled laughter echoed through his blocked ears and he opened his eyes to see a little girl, no taller than his cane, running through the aisle. Her expression was of pure delight as she sprinted; her dimpled cheeks the colour of red berries were vibrant and youthful. She was glowing. Mr. Davis could not help but look back onto his own memories when gazing at the small girl with infectious laughter. Although they were somewhat hazy and undefined, memories as beautiful as the purple flush of dawn crossed his mind.

Dashing through the fields of orchids, he was a young boy again. His face shone with the glow of never ending youth as his mouth spread into a smile as warm as the sun, showing his gleaming, crooked teeth. Arms spread out wide, he was flying. Flying above the lush grass and vibrant trees with not a single line of worry on his face. His sun-kissed skin basked in the warm light as he shifted into a roaring creature, gobbling up all the cowering animals in sight. Next, he was an ocean of endless worlds, his waves engulfing poor ships to their doom. Swishing his arms around, the sea surged with laughter as sunlight danced on the ocean. The storm was finally calming.

Lying down on the soft grass, he was gazing up at the huge expanse of the sky, his eyes shining like pebbles washed by the ocean. Smoky wisps of cloud curled like genies passed by him as he kept staring at the infinite, vast blue. Myriads of colours blended together: deep orange, pastel pink and midnight blue all swirling together to make a vibrant, colourful canvas. Dusk was approaching. Taking in a deep breath, he felt the sweet air hit the back of his throat as he lay down and slowly closed his eyes.

More memories as faint and distant as the light of a sun that has long set filled his mind. Turning his gaze to the window of the train, Mr. Davis looked at the passing buildings with nostalgia. Amidst the colorful streaks of paint and derelict houses, he saw himself. In the small enclosure of his room, he was in a field filled to the brim with beautiful orchids. Transforming from a free, flying bird to a ferocious ocean he was enjoying his moment of freedom. Away from the fetor of tobacco or the cacophony of glass bottles crashing to the ground. He looked at the reflection of himself through the window. His wrinkled folds were set in stone and wisps of hair was stuck to his forehead like candy floss. For the first time, he did something that he had not done in a long time.

He smiled.

 

[potato]

Tagging a few people who've shown interest in my work before:

Spoiler

@Erae @Bookworm @Skinnny @DimashVirus @GloriousHavoc @Mayah @SakinoSweety

Please tell me if you don't want to be tagged

 

[Willow]

After a long time, I finally have something else to show you guys
I'm not that proud of this one but it's something nevertheless. It was a school assignment. I used a few lines from some of my previous writings as well so there may be a few lines from some of the writing above:

Gripping tightly onto his old, wooden stick, the hunched figure slowly hobbled his way through the train aisle. Trembling, he reached out his gnarled hands to one of the seats. His wrinkled folds were set in stone and wisps of hair stuck to his forehead like candy floss. He was like an ancient tortoise, lumbering his way forward through the angry crowds. However, his eyes were that of a childlike hare, bouncing and jumping and tumbling through fields. His bright, blue eyes spoke of great wisdom, laughter and affection; something which his demeanor failed to do. Scrunching up his pale face, he lowered himself down into the seat and gave out a sigh.

Mr. Davis was a wrinkled creature. His youth had crumbled away like an outdated biscuit, sucking all the energy from him until all that remained was a brittle skeleton of a man. Fragile as a spider’s web, he looked as though a puff of wind could blow him down. Despite his sickly manner, deep creases were carved onto his face like a map of life, telling stories of great adventure and incredible journeys. He layed back into his seat and closed his eyes, making himself more comfortable.

Muffled laughter echoed through his blocked ears and he opened his eyes to see a little girl, no taller than his cane, running through the aisle. Her expression was of pure delight as she sprinted; her dimpled cheeks the colour of red berries were vibrant and youthful. She was glowing. Mr. Davis could not help but look back onto his own memories when gazing at the small girl with infectious laughter. Although they were somewhat hazy and undefined, memories as beautiful as the purple flush of dawn crossed his mind.

Dashing through the fields of orchids, he was a young boy again. His face shone with the glow of never ending youth as his mouth spread into a smile as warm as the sun, showing his gleaming, crooked teeth. Arms spread out wide, he was flying. Flying above the lush grass and vibrant trees with not a single line of worry on his face. His sun-kissed skin basked in the warm light as he shifted into a roaring creature, gobbling up all the cowering animals in sight. Next, he was an ocean of endless worlds, his waves engulfing poor ships to their doom. Swishing his arms around, the sea surged with laughter as sunlight danced on the ocean. The storm was finally calming.

Lying down on the soft grass, he was gazing up at the huge expanse of the sky, his eyes shining like pebbles washed by the ocean. Smoky wisps of cloud curled like genies passed by him as he kept staring at the infinite, vast blue. Myriads of colours blended together: deep orange, pastel pink and midnight blue all swirling together to make a vibrant, colourful canvas. Dusk was approaching. Taking in a deep breath, he felt the sweet air hit the back of his throat as he lay down and slowly closed his eyes.

More memories as faint and distant as the light of a sun that has long set filled his mind. Turning his gaze to the window of the train, Mr. Davis looked at the passing buildings with nostalgia. Amidst the colorful streaks of paint and derelict houses, he saw himself. In the small enclosure of his room, he was in a field filled to the brim with beautiful orchids. Transforming from a free, flying bird to a ferocious ocean he was enjoying his moment of freedom. Away from the fetor of tobacco or the cacophony of glass bottles crashing to the ground. He looked at the reflection of himself through the window. His wrinkled folds were set in stone and wisps of hair was stuck to his forehead like candy floss. For the first time, he did something that he had not done in a long time.

He smiled.

Girl ! I wish I could write like you in English ❤😝

 

[Mayday]

Why so talented? 😍

 

[Skinnny]

Those skills
That vocabulary

 

[GloriousHavoc]

Here is the first one: It was originally a short paragraph but I turned it into a poem

Ermordung

Orange hues and streaks of red fill the sky
As light peeks over hills dotted with grazing cows.
A sweet aroma lingers from the morning dew and
Flowers of vibrant colours begin to bloom.
Birds glide over the hills in search of food as
Animals of the kingdom begin to wake.
All is peaceful; all is calm.
Beauty at its finest.

Yet, deep underneath this haven,
Lies darkness.
Vines, pitch black in colour,
Twist and curl
Slowly towards the surface,
Toxicating the rich soil;
Poisoning the land.

Cows fall dead.
Flowers wither and shrivel.
Animals retreat in fear.
All while the vines begin to burst through the surface of the earth,
Continuing their morbid journey.

What is left, you may ask?
The grass has long gone,
All previous life forms have vanished;
Either dead,
Or fled in fear.
Barren and corrupted lands are all that are left.
A place where plants no longer thrive and
The vines continue to grow.
Truly beauty at its finest.

I really like this one!
Reminds me somehow of Tagore; one of my favs:

Spoiler

One The Seashore

 

[GloriousHavoc]

After a long time, I finally have something else to show you guys
I'm not that proud of this one but it's something nevertheless. It was a school assignment. I used a few lines from some of my previous writings as well so there may be a few lines from some of the writing above:

Gripping tightly onto his old, wooden stick, the hunched figure slowly hobbled his way through the train aisle. Trembling, he reached out his gnarled hands to one of the seats. His wrinkled folds were set in stone and wisps of hair stuck to his forehead like candy floss. He was like an ancient tortoise, lumbering his way forward through the angry crowds. However, his eyes were that of a childlike hare, bouncing and jumping and tumbling through fields. His bright, blue eyes spoke of great wisdom, laughter and affection; something which his demeanor failed to do. Scrunching up his pale face, he lowered himself down into the seat and gave out a sigh.

Mr. Davis was a wrinkled creature. His youth had crumbled away like an outdated biscuit, sucking all the energy from him until all that remained was a brittle skeleton of a man. Fragile as a spider’s web, he looked as though a puff of wind could blow him down. Despite his sickly manner, deep creases were carved onto his face like a map of life, telling stories of great adventure and incredible journeys. He layed back into his seat and closed his eyes, making himself more comfortable.

Muffled laughter echoed through his blocked ears and he opened his eyes to see a little girl, no taller than his cane, running through the aisle. Her expression was of pure delight as she sprinted; her dimpled cheeks the colour of red berries were vibrant and youthful. She was glowing. Mr. Davis could not help but look back onto his own memories when gazing at the small girl with infectious laughter. Although they were somewhat hazy and undefined, memories as beautiful as the purple flush of dawn crossed his mind.

Dashing through the fields of orchids, he was a young boy again. His face shone with the glow of never ending youth as his mouth spread into a smile as warm as the sun, showing his gleaming, crooked teeth. Arms spread out wide, he was flying. Flying above the lush grass and vibrant trees with not a single line of worry on his face. His sun-kissed skin basked in the warm light as he shifted into a roaring creature, gobbling up all the cowering animals in sight. Next, he was an ocean of endless worlds, his waves engulfing poor ships to their doom. Swishing his arms around, the sea surged with laughter as sunlight danced on the ocean. The storm was finally calming.

Lying down on the soft grass, he was gazing up at the huge expanse of the sky, his eyes shining like pebbles washed by the ocean. Smoky wisps of cloud curled like genies passed by him as he kept staring at the infinite, vast blue. Myriads of colours blended together: deep orange, pastel pink and midnight blue all swirling together to make a vibrant, colourful canvas. Dusk was approaching. Taking in a deep breath, he felt the sweet air hit the back of his throat as he lay down and slowly closed his eyes.

More memories as faint and distant as the light of a sun that has long set filled his mind. Turning his gaze to the window of the train, Mr. Davis looked at the passing buildings with nostalgia. Amidst the colorful streaks of paint and derelict houses, he saw himself. In the small enclosure of his room, he was in a field filled to the brim with beautiful orchids. Transforming from a free, flying bird to a ferocious ocean he was enjoying his moment of freedom. Away from the fetor of tobacco or the cacophony of glass bottles crashing to the ground. He looked at the reflection of himself through the window. His wrinkled folds were set in stone and wisps of hair was stuck to his forehead like candy floss. For the first time, he did something that he had not done in a long time.

He smiled.

Your descriptions are really vivid and atmospheric! When it comes to my writing style, that would be my weakest point!

Spoiler

If you ever wrote a smut fanfic, it would be glorious

 

[potato]

Your descriptions are really vivid and atmospheric! When it comes to my writing style, that would be my weakest point!

Spoiler

If you ever wrote a smut fanfic, it would be glorious

I don't think I'll ever be venturing into that territory

 

[kuro]

omg chellam the skill

 

[potato]

Wow, there's something really dreamlike about this piece (to me, anyway). It makes me think of surrealist paintings and Terrence Malick movies. There's a ton of detail here, and I think some teachers or critics might mark you down for that, but I think it works here, to help create that dreamlike state. Either way, great job! And thank you for sharing

Yeah, since it was a school assignment, I tried to include as many similes and metaphors as I possbly could.

Thank you for the feedback though