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    dots Submission Name: The story of His and Hersdots

    Author: AutumnLeaves
    ASL Info:    26/f/ Cyprus
    Elite Ratio:    4.62 - 95/103/44
    Words: 662
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 1220
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 4825

       This started from a dream. What I try to describe, I have seen in a dream of mine.
    Later on, I thought of it from a perspective that has to do with a forgotten Goddess....

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsThe story of His and Hersdots

    Two camps,
    Secluded ,
    Within colourful wilderness.
    Two sides,
    A knife cuts through a mass of people,
    His and Hers

    First days

    They came to Her,
    Their teeth replaced their gutless hearts
    With roars
    But she raised her ethereal sword
    Against their faceless efforts
    To prevent
    the bare fury of men.
    It was done,
    In his absence.
    The women raised the hands
    With their lowered eyes
    Upon the boiling ground.
    The blood was now dry,
    Mere red feeble lines
    On some appalled tree’s trunk.
    She gazed at it only for a moment,
    But in a moment’s silence
    She thought of death
    Death’s passion for death
    In her own violated soil.
    Then, the women raised the hands
    And she smiled.

    After days

    Away he was,
    Yet he suffered the bursting sound of her sword
    He knew,
    before his gruesome truth was realised.
    His mouth shaped his falling anger perfectly
    Among his scattered men.
    The dark,
    The fiery rage
    The evil hasty breaths,
    Were now used by her,
    Were now tamed snakes upon her head
    Awakened by alarm,
    Or mere caressing.
    The men were rigid
    In their visions of revenge,
    As he moved beyond them,
    Climbing, hanging from sudden brunches,
    Almost floating within the cold hurried wind
    Through haunted mysterious jungles,
    Till the sun appeared
    From an unsuspected side.
    Then, the men followed him.

    Hidden days

    The ashes arose into the air
    Forced by the unrelenting footsteps
    But before their atmospheric second
    She saw them.
    An anonymous wave of wickedness
    Thirsty for womanly shores
    For womanly foes.
    Was a coward element of life,
    Running away
    From such abhorrent nearby things.
    Before she could touch the quiet sword
    He seized her being
    Like a butterfly,
    With her black complex wings
    Crinkled by the sudden net.
    The women,
    Were captured too,
    In the wave’s return to mother sea,
    Gathered by it,
    Like objects astray,
    Misshaped and glasslike.
    The men pressed their fists to brake them.

    Still days

    She was among them.
    Inside this other side
    Pushed to enter a dark room.
    She could not bare to leave the sun
    Even in that
    Odious heat,
    She could not close her eyes
    And be comforted by the shades.
    As she was not afraid to see.
    But through her ears
    Terror hastened
    With a woman’s
    Piercing cries
    And ruthless as the pure pain of their origin.
    Even inside the dark room
    Her eyes ached of what she heard.
    And there he was,
    Pleased with her overflowing ability
    To feel,
    Than to act.
    She was next,
    But first the mind games,
    For he was sharp
    Before the knife appeared.
    And a secret gentle admirer.

    Final days

    The wings had lost
    Something of their rareness.
    She remembered nothing
    Of her sword,
    Of her soil.
    The women,
    Were the only striving memory
    The women,
    The few remaining voices of the present.
    In his presence
    She wondered of spontaneous sympathy
    Uninvited, yet present
    In his presence.
    The heat was gone,
    And the wind came.
    A different
    Restless wind.
    Scarring edges of her face
    With little sandstones
    But persistent.
    In their effort to awake the snakes.
    To release the fiery rage again
    in search of gateways.
    Through the exit hole
    She could see it was a sunny day.
    Through the wall’s vibrant trivial flaw
    She could see him.
    The arrow emerged and
    Appeared like a knife in her fingers,
    But she imagined it was a sword,
    Cutting through thoughts
    And rising above dilemmas
    Celebrating worldly qualities regained
    In a twisting second’s fate.

    The camps,
    Became one wilderness,
    One mass
    Unhindered, unthreatened by division.
    The women and
    The men,
    Raised the hands.
    She among them,

    Submitted on 2007-03-21 19:39:27     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!

    ||| Comments |||

    There are a couple things I would do with this piece if I were you. First, I think you need to look at your punctuation. In several places you add punctuation that only obscures your meaning. By putting punctuation at the end of every line, you break thoughts up that need to be attached to each other. If you are at the end of a line, you don't need to punctuate to give a breath, the breath will happen naturally. Then there are times where you leve out punctuation where you need it and two seperate ideas run together and form a mush of non-meaning. an example of this problem is:
    Was a coward element of life,"
    You don't need the comma after Time here. It confuses what you are trying to say.

    I think you also need to look at the beginning of the third true stanza and change the syntax from 'away he was' to 'he was away' The inverted syntax doesn't appear anywhere else in the piece and so reads very awkwardly here.
    | Posted on 2007-03-26 00:00:00 | by DavidHirt | [ Reply to This ]

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