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God whispers; and this is what he said.

manuscriptx

manuscriptx

New Member
He pointed down the hall through the cathedral to two open doors where all I had to do was sit down and confess my soul to the brother within; but I couldn't. I couldn't face my demons. I couldn't bare my all with someone I had not yet known; much less give my life up over. These were sins but they weren't skin. Skin doesn't come off like rubber, nor does it wash away like calcium deposits, lime and rust. These were meaningful; these were plenty; these were symbols of a twisted life and the course of which changed forever. Something meaningful can't be bared by the sight of lying eyes. Eyes that told me to wait for someone, that didn't care; eyes that saw through me in trying times. When I saw my father he wore a white robe, a dark and enchanting helmet with a skittle; a little ridiculous for the cusp but not too engrossing that he couldn’t toss a few pin cushions my way out of this mess.

Father Flanagan; Father Doherty and Father Snead were often wondering what it would take to get me here and the new steps they tried weren’t answering my prayers as I had hoped. It came and it could not let me go on this further without summoning up a full blown bore that came in the form of an awful taste inside. It made me feel sick to my stomach. Almost like a rotten patch of potatoes and oranges, forbidden fruits and knowledge that won't make me happy but a little less miserable. My son will have no troubles. My siblings will have none of the differences between me and their time to glow over my anger. In the nest they told me to wait again. At the time of their choosing during my fiancée’s pregnancy I sold my soul for a few coins and giddiness on the cheap. At times I was ignorant and stupid; glib and thoughtless without a cat’s worth of sense. During these instances I took ne'er pleasure from my actions or thoughts in institution.

What’s wrong with me? When is it going to end? When will the time be right? The nightmarish spot over my soul that hungers and pines for a seeker of quenching tenants to command. When will it end?
 
Opinions

If you or anyone would like to post an opinion on the poem/short compositions I write; yes I would like them but don't feel as though you have to give one.

When I post something on this website I periodically check to see how many views there are. " Old September " was the most viewed of all my writing posted on this website ( 555 views ).

The poem you read had an average of 10 views per day over two straight weeks. That pretty much answers to me wether people like what they read.
 
Just because someone read someone doesn't mean they like it. I read it and I think it is vague at best, and it doesn't strike me as a poem.
 
Well, since the issue is now open and being kicked about, I'll go on record as saying I liked it. :flowers:
 
For the record, I'm a real person that read this thread. I don't know what we're talking about liking exactly, but I like the story/poem/whatever in the OP of this thread much better than some of your previous stuff, manuscriptx.
 
poems

Poems don't necessarily have to be the traditional rhyming stanza pair of lines or more.

They can be in any form.

I'm assuming most people are already aware of that fact.

Nevertheless. I consider my poems just that, poems, but also writing compositions, short-paragraph stories. Each one I could write more content to, to be a multiple page novel but I like leaving stories broken.

I'm not interested in being a traditional writer, there's been millions of writers who've all written similarly. In trying to be different, I try to tell stories that give a reader only a vivid picture of something while not being so clear that it's simplistic or obvious to a reader where the story may go next.

Or give a reader content that may be something they've read before. I'm just guessing here but I doubt readers like reading the same or similar types of stories in each new story they read.
 
Poem Styles

To give you a short list of poem styles;
a few of them are as follows.
__________________________________________

Acrostic, Dramatic, Elegy, Epic, Ghazal, Haiku, Jintishi
Lyrical, Narrative, Ode, Pantoum, Prose, Rondeau, Ruba'i
Satirical, Sestina, Sijo, Sonnet, Tanka, Verse and Villanelle

The two I highlighted seem the more fitting description as to what form mine are in.
 
manuscriptx said:
I'm just guessing here but I doubt readers like reading the same or similar types of stories in each new story they read.
Click to expand...
Why guess. Aren't you a reader yourself? What do you like to read?

Thank you for pointing out that there are different styles of poem. I'm sure some of the admirers of your work will appreciate the clarification.
 
I'm a read-back.

No not necesarily.

The way I explain my interest is more towards writing; and then reading back the words and phrases I put together which sound more interesting.

An ordinary novel can start off pretty simple; I was walking by the river's edge when I noticed a strange smell emanating from the bay. The water was pretty cold and flaky; much like the sparrow fish in the tank; I started sulking because I knew I wasn't going to like the end of this situation if I investigated further. When I got to the end of the river there was a facility with smoke stacks too numerous to count. At the very edge of the spouts I could see what I thought were workers. Workers dressed in grey suits with a touch of ham-handedness as they went about what looked like a cleaning routine.

________________________________________________________________
Describing a situation or a scene like that can go on forever; usually as many as three, four or seven pages before you get to read a new and significant part of the story.

I lose interest pretty easily, that's why when I write something; the words are not as simple and put together but essentially "connects" one fresh subject matter to the next; action after action, sequence to sequence so you're not endlessly reading one particular thing being described on and on and on.
 
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