Chat Writings

Some of you young chatterers know that in our official YWS chat, sometimes members feel the need, the yearning, the undeniable and indelible desire to write a poem. Sometimes this is to a person or for a person or an occasion or just because! Sometimes it's a group effort, sometimes we're just looking for help with lines and rhymes.

It's about time we paid tribute to some of those wonderful spur of the moment creations!

And this, this thread is to post any and all Chat-created poems.

Have fun.

I have writed a poam in chat because of how Penguin asked me to and I cannot deny her anything. She is enchanting and wonderful beyond measure and if she requests something it must be done and done at once.

Here is the terrible result (my poam), which I would like to dedicate to PenguinAttack:

she is light
by her I see everything
without her I would be in a darkness
of shapes and things that move.
in darkness all alone
wondering
if the world exists
and just
barely
noticing the difference
between waking and sleeping.
she is light
and she
is love.
I love her always,
and with all
of my hearts.

It is symbolic of how I will love her always and with all of my hearts.

I wanted to capture some of the awesome pome-things PeN writes in chat, but then I thought she might not want me to do that, and I did not want to make PeN sad.

So instead, I present an old chatpome of mine, dedicated to the lovely PeN <£

I’m writing Pen a pome
As fast as I can type
I’m writing Pen a pome
Because she gave me a fright!
She saw me rolling into chat
Before I ever did
So I’m writing Pen a pome
‘Cause she sees me when I’m hid!

Corrine

Once upon a time there was a young woman who lived in the bottom of a palace. She lived in the darkest dungeon in the furthest corner and she wept for hours every night.

She wasn't sure how long she had been in the dungeon, or how many more tears she would have to cry before they set her free. She did know that her name was, remembering when her father pushed her fringe from her face and smiled at her. Corrine brushed the dust from her skirt and sat to begin her lessons. She counted for hours every morning, making up sums and answering them, to keep her mind alive

Corrine didn't know that in three nights time she would be turning twenty one. In the land of Errestia, when a young woman turned 21, she was considered a full and right adult, free to marry and live as she wished. The King, who kept Corrine locked up tight, knew the day was coming (as he marked it in a calendar).

The King took great pains to keep all of his people safe and happy, and it was he who had noted on Corrine's 18th birthday, that she was a far greater beauty than his kingdom had seen before. She had the great misfortune of sharing the Queen's birthday and on the procession through the city town, the king had seen his wfe staring at the child.

The King had acted quickly, though perhaps not wisely, and had ordered his men to kidnap the young woman. It would be best, he mused, if her family thought she were dead. Otherwise they may search for her and find out this terrible secrets. The Queen had not commented on the girl, but the King noticed that she wore more makeup and dressed more finely, and questioned his love more ardently.

Even now, three years on, with her 40th birthday approaching, the Queen was becoming more and more insufferable. She asked daily for reassurances of her beauty, had all the most lovely maids thrown from the palace and into the streets. The king worried, for he loved his wife, but she was becoming more than the kingdom might bare.

The Queen had become to question more closely, she had begun to watch him most constantly. She had noticed his frequent trips to the dungeons, how he insisted on visiting all of the inhabitants one by one. Cloaking herself in a fine black gown and hood, the Queen stole down to the lower palace and demanded entry She gazed through the thin windows into each cell.

Many were men, withered and dirty, shackled to the walls or their thin wooden pallets. The few women were unshackled but dirty, raw boned and ugly with age and sleeplessness. She was about to turn around, satisfied with the King's loyalty, when she heard the soft counting from the furthermost cell. As she reached it, Corrine stood and shook out her skirt, sighing at the dust and dirt. The Queen was stunned at her beauty, even in squalor, and became enraged.

She stormed to the king, screeching her displeasure as loudly as she could. The King was stunned, and immediately tried to calm his love, but to no avail. "It is her or me!" She seethed at him, and the King was brought to tears by the unhappy selfishness of his wife.

He called to his guards to bring Corrine up to the palace main hall as the queen shook with pleasure and guilt combined. As Corrine looked about the beautiful walls and noted the splendor around her, she began to weep for all she had missed. The Queen ground her nails into her palm, staring at the beautiful girl, thinking of how young and how beautiful she had once been.

The King stood Corrine in front of the Queen and looked at them both. "If this girl is to die on your whim, my love, it is by your hand alone." The Queen stepped back in shock and upset, for she never imagined that she could kill another being. At hearing this decree, Corrine threw herself to her knees and lay her head and hands on the floor, moaning that she had not even seen her family. She did not understand why. At her plaintive pleas, the Queen's back straightened and her face cleared of all worry

"Why is not the question, little dove, the question is how." The Queen's voice was steel, and her eyes were ice. "I have lived my life as the most beloved of this kingdom, and you threaten me." Corrine wailed louder, curling into herself with fear. "Listen to me!" The Queen bent and drew Corrine up by her elbow. "Your beauty comes at a cost, and I take it now!"

The Queen turned, letting Corrine drop back to the floor, and took a sword from the closest guard. The King was horrified, though he knew he had set this in motion and there was naught he could do. "My love-" he began, but her eyes turned on him and he fell silent. "I have loved you all my life" she whispered to the King, "and this child is what you do for me, you betray me."

Corrine had fallen silent and sat now on her heels, head bowed and ready. The Queen turned and took another sword from a guard and threw it before the child. "I will not harm you unarmed, you grotesque creature. Take arms."

Corrine shook herself alive and took stock, she was not weak and she was not a coward. She had lived on a farm and had been taught to defend herself, if there was nothing there was that. She stood, picking up the sword and holding it awkwardly in her fist.

The Queen laughed and waved her sword in the air, "Oh child, you are brave but stupid. Have you ever held a sword?" She sneered. Corrine did not answer but set her feet carefully and gripped the sword with both hands. "Let us have this done" The Queen strode forward quickly and batted Corrine's sword aside, teasing her.

Corrine grit her teeth and wrenched the sword back, nicking the Queen's throat in the process. The Queen hissed and drew back, feeling the slick blood slide down her collar. "And so. and so." she mumbled to herself. Drawing herself up to her full height, the Queen moved forward once more, and with a swift slice, embedded her sword in Corrine's side.

The King gasped and rushed forward, watching Corrine and his wife slump forward together, the girl's thin dress spreading red quickly. It was only when the Queen coughed that he noticed blood on her lips and the sword which was impaled between her ribs.

Around them, the room began to moan, and word was sent out among the people that the king's wife had been murdered by a peasant child. That she had been beautiful even in death, and the king wept. The people wept for their queen even as Corrine lay on her last breaths.

The King pressed his lips to his wife's cold mouth and turned to Corrine, laying her gently one the cold tiles. His heart wrenched, heavy and grey, for he blamed himself for his own folly. Corrine, though, smiled at her king and reached to touch his cheek, even as her eyes closed.

The King learnt a great lesson from the two women's deaths and never married again. The End.

Sussuration
a conversation of two poets

hark, let me rest in your amber hum until dawn

Dawn will come, these ages reaching tendrils of cloud across your moon.

as light spreads, so does the time stretched between
our lungs – vapors and fogs of moments trapped in memory

Memory is the moment when one mouth opens before another.
Can you see us now, maws tending to their words in silences held too long.

ours was a language of breaks, snatches of seconds
like handfuls of dandelion seeds breathed into the blue.
it’s how we lived, how we believed we would so soon end in whispers.

I grew from the seeds thrown in pastures not our own,
still clawing toward the sky even at the zenith of sound&light&earth.
So soon the whispers end.

you always spoke in metered lines,
mumbled words you felt were wrong.
one night i found you splayed in the green blades,
lips stroking wafting air – an empty orchestra in the dusk.

The chimes echo in the dusk, ‘a voice like movement’ you said,
and we were moving into.
into and out of the bones of a giant;
sea crashing against bare ankles of sand.

‘listen to the crash,’ you said,
‘like carbon leaving the lungs –
i can hear your heart.’
your hair brushed the curve of my collar, rolled as foam in the neap tide.
your ear pressed to my chest as a shell.
a distant echo caught in our fields.

The colours collect, collate smooth stars lining the sky,
you were red and blue and black and green.
Your song rumbling down the cavity of your body
and through mine. I imagine
the sounds envelope the moon, one more rip in the tide.


* This piece was written between Lumi and I, try and guess which stanzas are whose.

Easy--Lumi's have no caps.

...unless you were trying to be tricksy.... *narrows eyes*

Edit: even without that, your writings have subtle differences that make it obvious.

^ Lumi starts, every paragraph alternates.