Pen and Paper, Sword and Shield
Pen and Paper, Sword and Shield why stories
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stadarooni
stadarooniEmpathy is the human superpower.
Autoplay OFF  •  2 months ago
A collaboration of twenty on a very special topic! Enjoy!

Pen and Paper, Sword and Shield

(Preface) Over the past four months, myself and nineteen other writers have been working hard at a collaboration based on the prompt 'Why I write'.

The task of each writer was to carry on where the last writer left off, but in their own style. They could continue how they see fit!

We all really hope you all enjoy this piece and the effort that went into it. We are very happy to finally release this to the world -- it's been a long time coming! -- Alex

Cacophonously delicate letters. Spiraled and spun together. Creating melodic words. (@darklyloved)

Words and letters, awoken. Create an art, spoken.

From simple words written, Creativity is smitten. (@ant)

Letters frail like petals, hands drift across,

a canvas of literature and poetry, in words we can get lost. (@Love_Isaac)

A different adventure a day; words dance like Broadway!

But sometimes my mind closes and poses the elaborate clog: Paper still pristine. (@stadarooni)

The words steadily form, to be either adored or ignored.

Creativity carefully poured into every one, none go without thought. (@harper12345)

Yet I think of Hemingway, how his words scorch and fray,

is it true what he writ, that the first draft is shit? (@boblong)

While it may not entirely be good Took longer in process than it should,

For I had put over it a rock And got that plaguey writer's block. (@badwriter)

But once the rock was lifted Many a bug, they crawled out

Some turned tears, some jewels My words, my riches, my clout (@skye)

And each word shone brightly

Strung expertly together much like a thread and the eye of a needle

I may not have been the best at lining up the delicate string and eye

But now I can do it especially when I polish up a good try (@shygirl)

I write of love and of heartbreak,

Of laughter and tears,

Of sunshine and sadness,

Through year after year.

My letters form love letters –

This poem that I write

Is more like a promise

to hold through the night. (@aknier)

Letters – they spill from the flowing river, my mind,

Pouring black onto white, creating art from the water, as I silently write. (@tofu_tofu)

As I wish for this moment that creativity strikes,

to last a bit longer, two twin mermaids arrive.

One comes from the darkness, one was born in the light,

and whoever I touch first, for them I shall write. (@asteri)

My hand was immediately drawn to the one that was born out of the many star-strewn nights,

For to her my poet's heart was drawn;

My heart shook at the verses that resounded from her soul.

If some ask one day,

"Why did you choose the darkness and not the dawn?"

I shall tell them,

"To the darkness, and not the dawn

I have always been drawn.

It is not the blinding, scorching light of day that holds poetry made of moonlight and starlight, no.

It is the flickering, dim, soft glow of the night.

It sets aflame the capacity of imagination,

To the verses

that the poet nurses." (@Skylark)

And thus I poured upon the page The pulsing beats within my soul, In delusion aspiring to the sage Not knowing I had missed the goal.

While around and around flitted a light Calling gently ever soft, Oh please release me to my flight, I beg to rise and soar aloft.

And night weary retreated to her lair While new morning took her turn. So dawn shakes out her golden hair And struts upon the stage to burn.

Her fleeting life of passion spend And in such glory spread her tales, All eyes to her form will bend Captives of her wordly gales. (@stevewaldrop)

Ah, how the morning light instils me with creativity. The sun burns into my soul as I write for you. As I press the pencil firmly to the page for you.

It's all for you, these words, these thoughts, the excruciating pain that bleeds from the lead onto the wicked page.

You did this to me, my hands reap the rewards of your vile tongue that once hurt me so and that now are the reason I write. (@dirtiebitz)

To compose the chaos you provide.

Then I'd discover I could turn a tornado into these lines.

And they will be more than just letters I align. For I've climbed out of the hole and into the light.

In each curve looms the feelings that explode and no sheet of paper will ever be of void.

My mind itself, a library of dispel. Grasping pulsing inspirations, beating from my well.

And the moment that I breathe, the ink onto paper. I'll address my flourish and my falters onto my shelter.

And the words never cease to sway, to take me far to a place that I just create. (@nazhaabd)

A place that only now I'm able to see, built out of thoughts turned into pretentious creativity.

There, what's meaningless actually has a point, and it might happen to simply be honesty.

So don't ignore that spiral of nonsense: Jump in that tornado and write me how was it. (@livingghost)

This wind lashed through my hair, But I didn't find a reason to care,

My hands moved freely, As words poured onto paper, saying what I was feeling truly,

My mind wanders, creating words from the unknown, Wanna hear, how the story goes? Just another story, told by a scared girl, Hiding the secrets, she finds in this world.

But not every story needs a dark turn, Maybe the book doesn't have to burn...

And in the end, the stories we tell are ideas, Of the life we wish to have.

Though sometimes things go bad, Our stories remind us not to be sad. (@UselessEmoKitty)

Because the sadness in our souls refines our words on written paper, through experience comes knowledge and wisdom comes through failure.

For it is not our body that refines us, but the stories in our minds. The bright blue ink on our crumbled pages and the ideas that we provide. (@PoemsAboutMe)

thoughts fly like bullets in my mind

the demons I harbour

are behind ever trigger

only this time

I turn the guns to shoot outwards

and spill the blood

of these raging feelings

onto the paper

my pen, a shaky finger

the ink is of blood and tears

that decided to linger

how I write

is what I call messy art

a cocktail

of falling apart

and connecting back together

though gruesome at the start

I always end up feeling better (@kianamp)

(Afterword) Once again, we all hope that you enjoy the culmination of four months of work. In the future, there may be another collaboration like this, so watch out for it!

Please check out each writer if you haven't already! Take care, and thank you for reading! <3

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