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A long day has come to pass, Inky fingers entwine, push against one another, cracking quietly as the artist stretches, he rubs at his eyes, transferring a wash of colour onto his hot red cheeks,...
I love the winter when it's cold and dark. My imagination creates the story spark. The words flow from mind to page. Like the spells that flow from a Mage. I dream of things so cool and great.
Inspired by @RichWithey As if from gothica They stretch in dark Enlivened by silence Inspired by the Veined pulse of shadow As though drawing ink From deepest midnights They roll around ideas And...
This was rare. I'm the one who's having to open up the studio first. Usually, the tech guys would be here long before I turned up.
A ny time I'm stuck, C an't think of a rhyme. R eally out of luck, O r really out of time.
I'm off on a new adventure,. So please forgive me if I miss. Your marvellous poetry ventures,. Or wordy tales of pain and love,. And mysterious tales from above,. You must be sick of my talk of poo,.
For @Nom To take hold of a forbidden soul, The devil may tell a pretty lie, All 200,000ish groups of letters, Can easily be false and misapplied, The great question; Fiction or fact.
An early post, but still explains my thoughts, although it's maybe a bit harsher than I feel now..
What if I write a poem at night. With the moon in sight. With the dark room lighten by a small light. Making that paper and those words in sight. I get ideas at night and I can't write it right away.
Thanks @vikinghorn for picking my one as the winner, it must have been hard to choose there were loads of good ones.
Eyes burn with passion A muse talking to my soul, my soul forcing my hands to type these words. Premonitions, theories, thoughts, revolution all pouring onto my papers.
A way with words is what they say, I never knew before this day. A smile upon my face when I write something I think is good, a scowl when it's not understood.
I feel the stirring in my mind Something just out of reach A fruit of my imagination A glorious technicolour peach I looked at it bobbing away On my turbulent swirling sea Where my dreams are often...
My inspiration gets to me at night. I want to write but that does not feel right. I am trying to put a word or two. Just to make you read this and make me something to do.
Hi. I'm going to be using Opuss to upload an ongoing fantasy adventure story that has been floating around my head for about a decade.
If a picture paints a thousand words. Then why are none of mine heard. My drawing isn't perfect. Both most certainly worth it. I draw rainbows and sunsets. When I'm not upset.
I think I'm running out of words to say. I think about it every day. A poem or a story. Whatever I'll do it later don't worry. So later I turn on my Ipod and open this app.
Must admit to getting worried To where have all Opussians scurried.
I may not be very good But words are in my blood The key word here is "my" Meaning all my own - No need to question why.
Ok so been lacking on the Opusses lately, been a little busy with school and been tired. Will be posting a little tonight and probably tomorrow.
Sometimes; inspiration. I can pluck out of thin air. Other times it seems as though. There is nothing there. Some days I can write and write. The words, they never end. Other days my mind is dull.
Please comment on any of my opusses as I would love to know what you think. Please be truthful and don't flatter me with praise that I don't deserve. Constructive criticism is more than welcome.
Now I'm back at college I'm struggling for time To write down some nonsense And turn it to a rhyme My posts are getter fewer But I'll try one every day Because there are still many things I would...
A loss is felt today. Someone's been made to pay. Don't ring any bells. Just say your farewells. And get back to the Opussian way. There'll be some bumps and jerks. But we're left with original works.