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/lit/ - Literature


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17203408 No.17203408 [Reply] [Original]

So I've been having a lot of struggles with both writing as well as reading. Mainly because of medication. The only times I seem to write is when I wake up in the middle of the night, having an insane urge to write something down. Usually, I only remember what I wrote, or even the fact that I did, later on during the next day. Any /cope/ tips?

Yesterday's scribble:

"What I am is nothing more than an egomaniac that lacks self awareness.
Where lives are ended, I am dying, and the irony splinters my eyes.
Blind I will dream of both angel and archon; no predilection here.
And so, I shall walk, cloaked in credulity, until soil underneath my feet ceases to be -- On my way to gods and ancients!"


Also, general critique thread I guess!

>> No.17203437

>>17203408
This is good anon. Please be well.

>> No.17203458

>>17203408
Can’t help, I only write when I’m drinking

>> No.17203510

I’d definitely need more context.

“Where lives are ended” comes out of no where, “irony splinters my eyes” gives me a very generic young adult feel, same with the angel and archon/gods and ancients like.

OP try speaking the lines out to yourself, better yet try to think of the affect/result you want your writing to produce before you write.

>> No.17205079

Give this one some critique

The prince and the white raven

once there was born a prince with three natures
pridefull, mindfull and blessed among creatures
the prideful prince saw palace as prison
his father spoke, “I shall not imprison
you my son, go into a distant land
but take from me this gift into your hand”
and he was given a raven stained white
“may its flight be to you a guiding light”
the prince placed himself in a foreign place
where unknown was his custom and his face
he ate as they ate and drank as they drank
and forgot his noble birth and his rank
the prince came to such ugly poverty
he begged for stranger’s food and property
one saw him, wearing false gold and a wig
“ poor boy, come with me and tend for my pig
come and I will pay you a proper wage”
daily he placed himself in the pig’s cage
and was paid so poorly he ate the filth
fit as feed only for pigs without guilt
but the white raven cried out “return home
do not wander, do not waver nor roam “
his heart was pierced and he ran from that place
he cried out in the dark night and saw space
the white raven flew past constellations
each star causing such strange contemplations
and the raven cried out “ I see him there
your father in a garden, this I swear.”
he hurried to his father while yelling
“I seek you, let me into your dwelling!”
he reached the King and they met in embrace
the attendants gave him new robe as grace
the Prince’s joy poured forth as many tears
“i was Wrong, for just as a moth who nears
the flame for love of the fire am I
let me never leave your side ‘least I die “

but this tale leaves one thing left to mention
the prince had for the father a question
“why were you in the garden all alone?”
the Father said “I shall make all things known
among the quiet stars and singing birds
I sent out to my sons my many words
but many married to melancholy
rejected bird song and stars in folly
but the hour has come, leave them to roam
we must return to our Holy Home