I will show you the problem with my writing. I wrote the following piece two years ago, when I was trying to be a fantasy Imagiste, so forgive the clumsy vocabulary and the profuse abstractions. This piece is more elegant than the ones I write now, but the ones I write now pertain more to everyday life. Tell me which style you think is better. Actually, maybe i've never even shown you the style I write in now, oh well. I wrote this piece when I first heard Hooverphonic's "Eden."
Pondwater
Smooth, blue, liquid moonlight poured down from the heavens into the deep forested night. Crystalline trees arched and stretched into a celestial tunnel, like a thousand curved fingers reaching for starlit silk. Swans with pinions of cream glided through metallic clear waters, waltzing and hiding behind black masks of envy towards the one that always drank there.
She always knew what they thought; it soothed her being. The cause of envy was none other than a fairy nymph, one crafted out of charm, silver, and ghostly dew. Her eyes were wide and wild, cat-like and questioning. Her features were noble, angular, dainty cheekbones to match her dainty steps. The fairy princess had no name; she had simply always been, from the time of The Creation unto the days of the mortal man that ravaged the same crystalline trees swelling with moon dew. Some called her Lilith, although none knew when the name was contrived and when it would perish.
Every step she took was filled with grace and civility; head held high, barely tapping the earth with her ethereal strides. Lilith graced the forest meadows with fresh blades of green in the summer, danced in the mushroom circles at midnight under the North Star, and capped winter poplars with cloaks of smooth white with each passing year. Sometimes the creatures in the forest would glimpse her; some were filled with fear, like the crooning wolves, others filled with envy at their own clumsy gestures, like the swans. She was hard to sight, for her skin appeared fluid and she blended in so clearly with river water. Her aura resonated sacred areas and permeated souls with its cold and clear mistsmooth, pale, iridescent skin moving in trails, barely detected by the naked eye. Long ago her color had been as a storm tossed sea, but by now it had dulled to that of a raging river. The humans had done that.
Lilith sat a moment, head in both of her hands, surprisingly warm for such a cold, sentient being. When she smiled, her eyes had the habit of lighting up, gleaming with impish delight. Her blackberry lips pulled back into a smile, as she watched powder-blue deer prance and race through a blackened meadow. Some sparred, some nibbled bark peeling from weeping willows. The wolves were crying their eerie lullabies throughout the entire valley, as enchanted cranes beat their frosted wings in pointed formations.
A trumpet bayed through the treetops, caught in the branches. Low, sweet, clinging to the atmosphere of Eden. She knew it was a mortal; it always was. The croon of the trumpet seemed similar to the croon of the wolves, only concealing the undertone of a souls whisper. The fairy princess almost vanished, and deciding to hold herself, stood still.
A hunter came riding on a horse as pale as the moonbeams, breathing frost in clouds. The horses silver bridle glimmered and caught her eye. He stopped, halted, pulled on the silver bridle, as the horse came leaping and whinnying to a stop. Suddenly the man felt eyes, cold eyes, burning towards him. He began to sweat out of nervousness, hunters instinct. Rubbing the back of his neck with his palm, he glanced at the shining liquid beaded there. Turning, his handsome, proud face glimpsed her, in the midst of her fade. Long black hair, pointed ears, elegant features, untamed hazel eyes. They shone with emotion, as the corners of those blackberry lips turned upwards in a sweet smile. Her ether faded and died into the night air, an apparition created out of complete and utter nothingness.
For the rest of his life, he was haunted, whenever he tilted his head towards clear, sweet pondwater.
Pondwater
Smooth, blue, liquid moonlight poured down from the heavens into the deep forested night. Crystalline trees arched and stretched into a celestial tunnel, like a thousand curved fingers reaching for starlit silk. Swans with pinions of cream glided through metallic clear waters, waltzing and hiding behind black masks of envy towards the one that always drank there.
She always knew what they thought; it soothed her being. The cause of envy was none other than a fairy nymph, one crafted out of charm, silver, and ghostly dew. Her eyes were wide and wild, cat-like and questioning. Her features were noble, angular, dainty cheekbones to match her dainty steps. The fairy princess had no name; she had simply always been, from the time of The Creation unto the days of the mortal man that ravaged the same crystalline trees swelling with moon dew. Some called her Lilith, although none knew when the name was contrived and when it would perish.
Every step she took was filled with grace and civility; head held high, barely tapping the earth with her ethereal strides. Lilith graced the forest meadows with fresh blades of green in the summer, danced in the mushroom circles at midnight under the North Star, and capped winter poplars with cloaks of smooth white with each passing year. Sometimes the creatures in the forest would glimpse her; some were filled with fear, like the crooning wolves, others filled with envy at their own clumsy gestures, like the swans. She was hard to sight, for her skin appeared fluid and she blended in so clearly with river water. Her aura resonated sacred areas and permeated souls with its cold and clear mistsmooth, pale, iridescent skin moving in trails, barely detected by the naked eye. Long ago her color had been as a storm tossed sea, but by now it had dulled to that of a raging river. The humans had done that.
Lilith sat a moment, head in both of her hands, surprisingly warm for such a cold, sentient being. When she smiled, her eyes had the habit of lighting up, gleaming with impish delight. Her blackberry lips pulled back into a smile, as she watched powder-blue deer prance and race through a blackened meadow. Some sparred, some nibbled bark peeling from weeping willows. The wolves were crying their eerie lullabies throughout the entire valley, as enchanted cranes beat their frosted wings in pointed formations.
A trumpet bayed through the treetops, caught in the branches. Low, sweet, clinging to the atmosphere of Eden. She knew it was a mortal; it always was. The croon of the trumpet seemed similar to the croon of the wolves, only concealing the undertone of a souls whisper. The fairy princess almost vanished, and deciding to hold herself, stood still.
A hunter came riding on a horse as pale as the moonbeams, breathing frost in clouds. The horses silver bridle glimmered and caught her eye. He stopped, halted, pulled on the silver bridle, as the horse came leaping and whinnying to a stop. Suddenly the man felt eyes, cold eyes, burning towards him. He began to sweat out of nervousness, hunters instinct. Rubbing the back of his neck with his palm, he glanced at the shining liquid beaded there. Turning, his handsome, proud face glimpsed her, in the midst of her fade. Long black hair, pointed ears, elegant features, untamed hazel eyes. They shone with emotion, as the corners of those blackberry lips turned upwards in a sweet smile. Her ether faded and died into the night air, an apparition created out of complete and utter nothingness.
For the rest of his life, he was haunted, whenever he tilted his head towards clear, sweet pondwater.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
but the worst part is...
I NEVER LEARND TO READ!!!
The "poem" is actually lyrics from an Underworld song called 8ball. Remember, I can't write!