The Pen Is Mightier Than The Sword discussion

Write something! Short story, Poem (Haikus are fun), Book review Don't be shy.

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message 1: by Zack (new)

Zack Write anything you want. Try and fill up the box, or don't. Anything is acceptable. Try a journal entry, short story, poem. It's all in good fun. Reviews are welcome but please try to be constructive- not negative. ENJOY!

message 2: by Zack (new)

Zack Its getting warmer

Outside the weather is best

Upon the beach reading

message 3: by Debbie (new)

Debbie | 1 comments (Ok I've never actually posted anything here but I hope you guys enjoy: PS really sad!)

She walked down the street heading towards her house. She had left school late as she had band rehearsal and had stayed to talk with the rest of the seniors about the drill. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and she hadn’t had to worry about Mr. Ever’s dog chasing her down the street. As she got to the four way stop her iPhone started ringing in her pocket.


“Grace its Mr. Rivers… Did you see Tor after class today?” asked Mr. Rivers sounding upset over something.

“Yeah he said he would meet up with me tonight during the football game because he’s the Band Aid,” said Grace her chest constricting in fear.

“I’m sorry Grace, Tor committed suicide two hours ago shortly after the two of you left class,” said Mr. Rivers making Grace drop her phone on the concrete and stare at it in complete horror.

Tears fell down her face as she dropped to her knees crying. The two of them had so many plans, they had both been accepted to college and where graduating with honors if they didn’t screw up. She could still see Tor smiling at her wearing the wrangler jeans and button up shirt as she just gaped at him not being dressed up like a Goth. She could see him working on his truck in the school parking lot when it wouldn’t start. Gasping and crying, with shaking hands Grace picked up the phone and put it to her ear.

“He was happy when he left,” gasped Grace not moving from the sidewalk.

“Grace no one seems to know what made him do it. I’m cancelling my hunting trip to be with the class next week. I know things are downright horrible but you will get through this,” said Mr. Rivers as a car pulled up and Grace’s mom jumped out of it.

“Thanks Mr. Rivers and bye,” said Grace hanging up before throwing herself crying to her mom.

Her mom held her and gently shushed her. The band parents had already called each other with the news making her Mom and Dad go look for her. Grace cried and cried as her mom lead her to the car and they both got in. As they drove Grace didn’t think about how lovely the day was, or even about the stupid rivalry that would be at the football game that night. All she could think about was her best friend dead and she didn’t have a chance to stop it.

(This is based partially on what happened to me in High School though names and situations have changed.)

message 4: by Zack (new)

Zack Hey Debbie, glad to see someone else sharing within the group. Honestly, I UN-membered myself, but came back to see if anyone had actually posted anything. I re-re-signed up just to post this.

Sorry this short of yours is based on a true story. I know how it is to loose a friend. I hope that sharing has helped you.

It seems the rest of the group is busy with high school or whatever (as they are all very young apparently). I don't know if you've signed up for other groups that are more active, but I would suggest it.

message 5: by Phyllis (new)

Phyllis Erbst | 3 comments My daughter had a friend who committed suicide on New Years eve when she was in high school, it really touched her and another friend of hers. To this day and they are in their 30's it still affects them especially at that time of the year. Just recently her brother-in-law committed suicide and it brought back so many sad memories. I will pray for you that you will find peace from this and be able to help others through your experience.

message 6: by Trish (new)

Trish (anaklusmos-riptide) | 20 comments A wispy thing, no heavier than a feather
Though the impact as devastating as stormy weather
It shows itself in some strange and wonderful ways
But whatever form it takes, your heart sways

When it has left you, your heart weeps
In its hollow grave the glass tears she sweeps
She cries out in the middle of the night
Waking you up full of teary fright

Alas, when your lips have tasted sweet liberty
It pulls you back down again, its hands cold and icy
Though when you begin to feel some warmth unearthly
Hold onto its spontaneous feeling completely.

It was a poem I made about Delirium by Lauren Oliver.

message 7: by Kylie (new)

Kylie Prolouge:

Sirens. That's the last thing I heard before I floated away. I feel strange, light. I have the sense that I am floating but I have no idea why. I can't see
Anything, I am just floating.

Chapter 1:

Those were my last thoughts and feelings seconds before I technically died for a minute and a half. Or so they told me, how was I supposed to know
how long I was dead for, I was dead! I still can't believe that I actually died, even for that short of a time. How scary is that? Talk about a wake up call.
Nothing motivates you to get healthy like a near death experience, right? I never knew I was so unhealthy, I mean I knew I was out of shape (walking up the
stairs without huffing and puffing is an foreign concept to me) but I had no idea it was so serious. The doctor said that I had I had stopped breathing in
the middle of the night, my airway had been constricted by fat in my neck (lovely). I was out for a few minutes before my mom came in and found me not
breathing, she freaked out (obviously) and quickly called 911. My mom started CPR right away, as per instructions from the 911 operator, and managed to keep
me breathing long enough for the professionals to get there and take over.

I decided then and there, after I woke up in the hospital (after being resuscitated) that I had to change. I had to take back control of my life and
get healthy so I could have the life that I was meant to have. Next Stop the gym! or Mcdonalds!

My mom picks me up from the hospital, insisting that I ride in a wheelchair to the car like an invalid. I have been in the hospital for a week, hooked
up to so many machines I felt like a real life computer. The doctors ran all sorts of tests on me to ensure that this kind of thing never happens again. The
results were typical of a heavier person, high this and high that (no not high as in drugs). My personal doctor through this whole experience was named
Dr. Jamie Collins, the most annoying person ever! She is so skinny that i'm not even sure there is a size that small, she looks swamped in her Doctor's coat.
She is actually really nice and I really like her, if I can stop thinking bad thoughts about feeding her doughnuts! She advised me to start moving and eating
healthier, as if this is the easiest thing in the world. This advice coming from a women who has probably never let a chesseburger cross her perfect lips and
runs marathons on the weekends. I snap back to reality, my mom is staring at me with a worried expression on her face, "Are you okay? Do I need to get the
nurse? Please sit down and let me help you!". Oh brother! I am not an 80 year old women who's bones are so frail they break when I sit up. If i'm ever going
to get healthier and avoid these hospital visits in the future, I need to start right away. I determidly get up from the wheelchair and take a step towards the
car. My mom shrieks and grabs my arm "Honey what are you doing? Dr. Collins insisted that you take it easy!". I roll my eyes in her direction "she said easy mom
not sedentary, I can certainly walk nice and slow to the car without spontaneouly combusting!". She clucks her tongue but stays silent and follows behind me
across the parking lot. As we reach the car, I start to reach for the door but she insists on opening it for me. This is going to be a longer process than I
realized. As we settle in the car, I am frusterated at being handled like a baby, I'm 23 for goodness sake, but I realize how insensitive I am being to my
mother. I take a deep breath and turn towards her "mom, im sorry for being so short with you, im just ready to put this experience behind me and start getting
stronger and healthier, it was important for me to walk to the car so that I don't go back to my old self. Besides everything happens for a reason, right?".
She sniffs and says quietly "Even someone you love dies?". Oh man, knife in my fat entombed heart. Talk about guilt, except for one thing, I DIDN'T DIE, I Lived!
And I intend to keep it that way *wink, wink*.

(This is the start of a story that I am starting to write. It is going to be a story of rebirth, getting a second chance at life after a near death experience. This is also a personal story to me because it is based somewhat on my own life at this point. I am not as healthy as I need to be and I am starting on weight-loss journey that will improve the quality of my life. While I am surprisingly healthy as far as the numbers go but I have health risks in my family associated with obesity so I am desperate to prevent myself from getting worse. The only thing to do once you've hit bottom, is to crawl your way back up! So I hope you enjoy the shortened version of my book, I would really appreciate any feedback, advice, editing, etc.)

message 8: by Jane (new)

Jane (smallinabigworld) | 31 comments

My long poem about a great friend of mine that is in the hospital right now.

message 9: by A.T. (new)

A.T. Baron | 2 comments

This was a quick little poem I did on the fly with an illustration to go along with it.

message 10: by May (last edited Apr 04, 2013 01:32PM) (new)

May | 10 comments Look up at the birds
Not down at the ground
It's just so absurd
Just look around:

Everybody looks down
I don't know why
I think it's more smart
To look up
At the sky

(Just a little poem I made up; I've really noticed it!)

message 11: by Lady Poppy (new)

Lady Poppy | 11 comments Sakura wrote: "Look up at the birds
Not down at the ground
It's just so absurd
Just look around:

Everybody looks down
I don't know why
I think it's more smart
To look up
At the sky

(Just a little poem I made up..."

That's really funny, because I've been thinking about that a lot lately. People seldom look up, eyes constantly trained on the ground.

message 12: by David (new)

David Bradburn (dwb42461) | 6 comments Past Lives, Present Woes is David’s first novel and can be found on either in paperback or for digital download.

Book Description

David Jr. and Jonathon have spent many lifetimes together. Two of these are found within the pages of Past Lives, Present Woes as they work through the many challenges of trying to maintain an interracial gay relationship. Readers will discover two stories that have similar personal freedom struggles, yet, they are placed in two separate historically, Southern time periods. This is not your typical love story. Characters in both stories work to free themselves of karmic debt and try to understand the evolution of spirit as seen through eternal lenses. The reincarnation theme is, often times, diluted by the profoundly Western religious belief systems found in the southern United States. However, the characters in both books of this novel are directly linked by their stories playing out in two distinctly different lifetimes. Also, this work of fiction delves into the sexually dynamic relationships where youth, inequality, and unconventional expressions thrive to balance out the power struggles predetermined by past lifetimes. Each chapter comes to life by the story being told by a new character. This is not a collection of short stories, but, will engage the reader as they meet each new character, moving the novel to its final destination.

Paperback copy is $14.99 or Digital E-reader version is $9.99. Posting the link for anyone interested in southern gay fiction.

David W. Bradburn

message 13: by Deanna (new)

Deanna Guerrero | 1 comments ok so i write a alot and i never share it with people its usually the beginning of a love book or just a story or just anything on my mind.. here goes something:

A soul mate they call it is someone who your soul is attached to and always yearns for each other, somehow always finding their love again and pulling one back to stick together, they might steer off for a moment but they’re always yours coming back for you. Cause it natural for them to need you and not want to leave.
He’s Not the perfect man , I’m not the perfect women, but our souls desire what the heart needs, that’s the love with all the mistakes and even when they hurt you, and the tears and pain , its always that same imperfect soul that will always fit securely with yours from that time when they first meet making prints in a journey together and it wasn’t a love story and it wasn’t a once upon a time but God makes those moments in life to forever keep.

message 14: by Carrie (new)

Carrie P (ilavalavamylibrary) How mighty the sword!
Righteous blade of black red ink.
War of words and truth.

message 15: by Norah (last edited Apr 13, 2013 05:16PM) (new)

Norah Deay (norahdeay) | 2 comments This is the start of a short story

From his position on the church roof Jake could see the road meandering across the lush Irish countryside; a silver ribbon that looked flat and uninteresting from his vantage point. There was no way to tell how your calves screamed going up Donnelly’s hill or the feeling of terrifying exhiliration when you went careering back down for the first time. The rectangular shaped fields marched side by side into the distance, until they reached the horizon, and then they were gone. Jake spent a long time looking in that direction, waiting for the yellow glow of sunrise.

The sun’s rays spread like fairy dust across the village and Jake smiled at the sight of Mrs Byrne in her monstrosous orange dressing gown as she scuttled inside with the milk, thinking herself unseen.

From the South Road came the screeching sound of brakes entering the village. William Carter would be out with his clipboard by now, taking numbers and waving threateningly at the truckers as they painstakingly made their way through the narrow village street. It wasn’t their fault that this was the only route but that didn’t stop William from blaming them.

Jake flicked idly at a loose thread on his jeaned leg and waited for the village to come to life.

Rush hour was the definition of chaos. Trucks blocked the roads and workers making their way to the meat factory invarabily had to allow an extra 30 minutes to get through the snarl up.

Jake felt himself nodding off a couple of times as he fell into a trance watching the steady stream of vehicles pass under him. He lay back against the slates that were beginning to feel the heat of the day and closed his eyes until the sounds of traffic lessened, and eventually faded away. Sounds of the village took over and Jake took up position at the edge of the roof again.

He stiffened suddenly. His father had appeared at the door to their house and lit a cigarette before stepping out to the pavement. His head swivelled left and right and Jake could see the anger in the set of his shoulders as they reached up towards his ears. There was trouble in store for him, Jake knew that for sure, but just like all the appliances they had, payment could be deferred - until he decided to show up - and that wouldn’t be before his father left for work. Hopefully someone else would have incurred his wrath before this evening and Jake would escape with a tongue lashing, instead of one with his father’s belt.

A shout of laughter diverted his attention and he saw the Gibson twins pretend to stop their father leaving for work. One tiny child hung off each of Tom Gibson’s legs and he was doubled over in laughter. Jake smiled at their antics and felt a pang of envy at the same time. Those girls didn’t know how lucky they were with a dad like that.

A door banging alerted him to his father’s departure and Jake exhaled a deep breath of relief. Out of sight was out of mind and now he could enjoy the morning rituals of Castlejohn.

The shutters had no sooner been drawn back from the windows of The Red Robin Cafe than Michael Carthy was on his way across the road for his coffee, poached eggs and homemade brown bread. The solicitor’s breakfast never varied and he seemed to enjoy each one as if it was his first time to try it.

Jake’s interest was piqued as he saw Michael hesitate before entering the cafe. That was new. The hesitation didn’t last long but it was long enough for Jake to know there was a reason behind it. Not for the first time he wished he had some binoculars. Michael always sat inside the window; it might be interesting to see who he talked to.

message 16: by Jane (new)

Jane (smallinabigworld) | 31 comments Book wrote: "How mighty the sword!
Righteous blade of black red ink.
War of words and truth."

Awesome Haiku!

message 17: by R.L. (new)

R.L. Robinson (robb_lucas) | 4 comments Would anyone be prepared to give some constructive feedback on some short stories I recently wrote?
Always polite to ask.

message 18: by Kayla-Lyn (new)

Kayla-Lyn (luckyno13) | 2 comments Nothing sicker than the smell of festered flesh burning on the bone
Except maybe
For the sound of my burnt heart,
Flaking off and falling apart
Were you ever happy? ,
Dear Heart, Were you ever happy?
So weeping heart,
Why do you stop to cry?
Was all I’ve given you enough? ,
(too much?) Is that why?
Is there a reason for which you weep?
Is it because you’ve been buried too deep?
Oh, maybe not for you, but for me
There’s nothing sicker than the smell of my festered heart
Burning at the stake while trying to play its part

- K.L. Searle

message 19: by Agony (new)

Agony O.o

message 20: by Agony (new)

Agony wha?

❄️ Propertea Of Frostea ❄️ Bitter SnoBerry ❄ (berrynumey) Falling, falling down
Slow, frozen, no emotion
Then came a li'l lion

(view spoiler)

❄️ Propertea Of Frostea ❄️ Bitter SnoBerry ❄ (berrynumey) :) My Bird named Poetry (:

All was quiet, I could feel time
Like the soft rays of moonlight
That humble bird came by rhyme
Dreams alive; the dead of night

Pecked at my window, bid ave
The bird of magnificence, oh mine
Seemed lone, lost out a cave
I needed only that one sign

My friend was back, I've missed her
She taught me words I knew not
I did look all around, snow and cinder
This heart yearned for her a lot

A wild beast she was, remains till day
Taming her is my life's desire
She left that night, flew away
But left back her tunes blazing like fire

Her world and mine are glorious when one
Her wings, her voice, her soul, her life, on me
Will see more rises, of both moon and sun
For poetry and I, were meant to be

message 23: by R (new)

R (riverstardust) | 10 comments ~Hello all :) Lemmi contribute to this thread:
In life`s last chapter
do we give up on life or
does life give us up?

❄️ Propertea Of Frostea ❄️ Bitter SnoBerry ❄ (berrynumey) Pecks on this wood
Holes being made
The woodpecker making its home
Will be scarred forver and forever
That lone tree

message 25: by Maeve (new)

Maeve LaFey (LilyMaeveLaFey) | 2 comments Hey, everyone!
This is the begining of a short story I started for a contest (did not finish in time so it was abandoned for my two large projects.
Here's what I have so far of Eimer and the Faerie Queen

Éimear fletched arrow after arrow, squinting to be sure that the stone heads were balanced correctly. It was long and hard work, but it had to be done. Battle would break dawn of the next day, and Éimear was a much better shot than she was a swordswoman.
Bran helped sharpened his sword against a whet stone as, his raven hair blowing in his face from the gentle breeze that tussled the willow fronds they camped under, he had been painted like the men from across the water, clever knotwork formed what looked like a raven in flight, its wings like a mask across his brown eyes, giving him the name “Bran”. The leader of the Fian was almost always ready for battle. So were his men.
“This is suicide!” Orlagh pleaded once more as she came between the veil of thick fronds after having left to survey the field flanked by two painted men .
Orlagh was Éimear's elder sister, the daughter of the Chieftain of Aire and their mother. Orlagh was much more like their mother, the first Éimear whose virtues attracted the attentions of the greatest chieftain and warrior in all of Daoinebhaile. Orlagh had her long strawberry blond hair and ice blue eyes, their mother's love of song and needle point, and of course prayer. Éimear was not so much like their mother, with her diminutive stature, bushy black hair and wide emerald eyes. She was the bastard daughter of a Chieftain's wife and the Faerie King.
Though faeries were immortal creatures and did not care for the laws of man when it came to monogamy, the Faerie Queen had taken offence to her husband's fathering a child with a mortal. It might not have been an issue, but over the centuries any child the Faerie Queen had was not the Faerie King's, making the one child he'd ever had sired even more of a slight.
Queen Oonagh of the Faeries was quick to find her out, and when she could not kill her by way of an enchanted apple when she was seven, attempts to trap her in a well or a lake, a looking glass, or even enchanting the Chieftain to sentence her to death after outing her true parentage. Every foiled attempt on Éimear's life was seemed as though the faerie was only toying with her, if she truly wanted Éimear dead, she would have succeeded.
That was until now, twelve years later when she killed their mother, drowning her in a faerie pool. That was the line that told Éimear the Faerie Queen was serious. Orlagh hired for her the painted men, a fian of half-fey bastards like herself more equipped to handle what the sidhe were like to heap upon them.
“I've hired men who know what they're doing, Éimear,” Orlagh continued. “You don't need to die here in the battlefield. “Don't leave your child an orphan!”
“I must avenge our mother.”
“And if you die here it will be your daughter throwing away her life in the pursuit of vengeance.”
“I will not be satisfied until I drive an arrow or my blade into her coward heart!”
“If you die here I refuse to lose my niece as I did my sister. I will tell her she is mine and she will know nothing about you.” Orlagh declared tears streaming from her eyes. “Is that what you want?”
“Go home, Orlagh.”
Orlagh opened her mouth to speak, choking on her tears as she tried to string words together. Eimear could tell that she was trying to think of ways to save her, but she would hear none of it. If Eimear did die on the battlefield, she was confident that Orlagh would be a great mother to her child. Both she and Orlagh could take solace in one simple fact that would happen no matter how the battle unfolded: if Eimear was going to die, she was taking Oonagh with her.
From her neck Orlagh removed a pendant which sat on a long silver chain. She had always worn the pendant which bore the triskel, she slept with it around her neck. Eimear was moved by her sister's gesture and bowed her head to allow her to slip the long chain over her head.
“This bears the symbol of the weird sisters, perhaps the fates will favour you if you bear their symbol.”

message 26: by Huda (new)

Huda | 1 comments This is the first part of my first short story that I write in my life. I wish it amuses you. And I am eager to hear your opinion about it and to read your feedbacks.

Is she a perfectionist?

I always believed that there is no one like flawless, perfectionist person. We are all humans and humans are to be flawed in one way or the other.
Consequently, as one of the humans, I admit my flaws. For example, I do not like to be criticized by someone else who is not an equal to me, or to lose a bet with him. I have discovered these defects quite late. I think people need experiences to discover their faults and admit them, a truth easier said than done. Anyway, the experience by which I have discovered these flaws is one of my best memories and best teacher of life.
My dearest memory happened when I was at the fourth semester in Nihon University. In this semester I chose to take the philosophy course as I have been always attracted by debatable subjects. On one of the philosophy lectures, we were discussing the idea of perfectionism. The number of students who believed in perfectionism and agreed that perfectionists really existed amazed me. I could not tolerate how simple-minded they were. So, I said disagreeing, "I don't think such people really exist."
As soon as I finished my statement , I was attacked by some foolish guy from the back, he said angrily, "What d'ye think yourself, Haru? You're always trying to impose your opinions. Remember that you're not the teacher here."
I was not able to reply for the first few seconds as I was withdrawn by the surprise of his wordy attack , then I said with something like a laugh," I remember that well my dear enemy."
He said angrily again, "You don't seem to remember anything at all. You even seem to forget about that girl studying with us in Biology lecture, who is believed to be a perfectionist and she is. Now, d'ye still disbelieving in perfectionist?"
" Yes, I still dare do, Yoshida. Because if she's perfect here that doesn't mean she's
perfect in all her life." I stated confidently.
"I bet she's a perfectionist," he said," she's beautiful, smart, and athlete. Besides her good manners and lively spirits."
"I bet she's not a perfectionist," I said, " you only speak of her in the university but how she behaves in her house. You don't know."
" You, arrogant peacock! We'll bet on that whether she's a perfectionist or not. I say she's." He announced.
" I say she's not," I annouced oppositely. Now, on hearing such a bet, the rest of the students got amazingly enthusiastic. They laughed, shouted, whistled and divided themselves according to which side they support.
My supporters were only ten and the rest went with Yoshida, who reached the highest levels of excitement and increased his ability to talk much more. Within the pointless but dangerous things that he said was that he decided what we were supposed to do after the results of the bet were revealed as a kind of heightening the bet.
He said that in one of his peculiar foolish ways, "If she's really a perfectionist, I'll propose to her. But if she's the contrary, you'll propose to her." The class went unbelievably crazy on hearing that. And I could not escape from it under any case. I would have never ever escaped.

I want your opinion about it concerning grammar, punctuation, word choice, the ideas, the event and every thing you would say ☺☺, thank you in advance.

message 27: by Mette (new)

Mette | 1 comments For everyone interested. have a free writing contest that you can join and at the same time get your creative mind going.

Hope to see some of you.

Thanks in advance

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