Jeskes Little Poems and Proses.

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Yesuke
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Jeskes Little Poems and Proses.

Beitrag von Yesuke » Mo 21. Sep 2009, 21:32

Tut mir leid dass ich jetzt auch den trend folge; aber.. ich schreibe manchmal auch kurzgeschichten.
Zwar nicht so gut wie die von Kathrin undso O.o und auf englisch
aber...
x33
Ich dachte, vllt öffne ich mir auch nen thread.

Pfüh war das schwierig mir das zu entscheiden O.o

Nja, die sind also (fast) alle auf englisch

Die erste geschichte steht in meinem blog... ich stelle sie trotzdem mal hierhin
Aufbauender kritik ist willkommen :D

Ach und... ich find's lustig mal bilder zu den teksten zu tun, also.. wundert euch nicht xD



Mere Winters Air

Cold, desastrous cold rips through my chest, pressing in on my lungs, slices through my fingers, numbing my hands. My thoughts freeze but I have to focus on keeping total equilibrium to refrain from falling. To avoid collapsing onto the stoney pond a few strides ahead.
The little voice whispers softly: "Just keep on, you're almost there.. Move ahead, just a few kilometers. A few.." though the words seem to echoe loudly before fading into dead thoughts and memories again.

The scenery is almost fully enveloped by fog and mist, hiding the path that used to be so trustworthy to me. Slowly inhaling the odorless smell of morning dew, I wonder how the landscape could turn so unfamiliar in just a couple of hours. The silence frightens me slightly. "Just move on, move on" the voice repeats, with an urgeing undertone. Maybe he could sense the danger ahead of me.

A second wave of cold tears through my body, filling my lungs with fog and knife sharp air. Mucus starts ascending slowly through my pipes, making breathing barely possible... Just a few thousant metres, just a few...
Dizzy.
I step from my bike and kneel down. The voice keeps repeating the phrase, how could I possibly let my phisical health take over my will? Coughing slightly, I get up to move on once more, wondering how one could drown so easily in mere winters air.


Bild
The water is pulling me near...
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Silbermondie
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Re: Jeskes Little Poems and Proses.

Beitrag von Silbermondie » Mi 23. Sep 2009, 16:43

woww.... gut geschrieben und vor allem tolles englisch! *___* schön mysteriös ^^
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Re: Jeskes Little Poems and Proses.

Beitrag von Yesuke » Mi 23. Sep 2009, 17:08

Awww danke x3 :kiss:
Ich hatte schon angst dass niemand es verstehen würde O.o

Ich hab heute, für englisch, noch eins geschrieben. Wir müssen jetzt viel schreiben in Englisch...
Es ging darum dass man auf 10 verschiedene maniere 'Sagen' verwendete. Also, statt immer nur 'to say' dann auch sowas wie 'to talk, to speak, to comunicate, to whisper, to exclame, .." undso verwendet..

Ist eine ziemlich lange geschichte O.o
Und nicht so mysteriös wie die letzte xD

Spoiler Sleeping Monkeys:
My bare feet hit soft grass again, and I looked up from the path on which I was walking. Back in the clearing, again. No closer, but no farther either from civilization. It has been like this for three days now. I sat down, burying my face into my knees. Had I known how I had got here, I would have turned back straight ahead, but I was left alone in an unfamiliar forest, longing for some sign of human life. A moan. A whisper. Even the softest hint of breath would have overwhelmed me with euphoria. Birds were singing. “Ah well...” I sighed, wishing they would shut up, though I knew I was the only one to hear it.
Tired as I was, my thoughts descended into a dream. A memory.


“Wakey wakey, rise and shine!” Allison called out, as the train had reached our final destination. Slowly focussing on my surroundings again, the volume of chattering travellers turned up. “Wake up, we’re already there!” she repeated. I got up, still dizzy with sleep, and followed her outside. The sharp morning sunrays cut deeply through my sleepy eyes. “au!” I exclaimed, but luckily no one noticed.
A large hotel stood in front of me, the very picture of which I’d seen on a flyer. “Oh, we must go there!” Allison had said, pointing at it. “It looks so nice. And not expensive at all! Hmm look here: Free drinks..” On the very same day we contacted the hotel manager by phone. After all, I had promised her that she could choose where we would go on Holyday this year.
So that was how I came to be here. Me and my best friend.



I startled, instantly waking up again. A voice was shouting my name. Or was it an illusion?
After a few moments of concentrated listening, I decided that it had been the birds. Just birds singing, enjoying the day as it was. They at least were where they belonged.

There it was again. This time clearer. Maybe I hadn’t imagined it after all! A voice rang through the clearing, making the birds finally shut up. Unable to think clearly, I cried back “I’m here! HERE!”.
How could so many emotions fill a body in just a few seconds? Sure, I had been gone for several days. Sure, I was confused and glad at the same time. But I couldn’t help weeping slightly.
Allison appeared from behind the trees, running towards me. Hugging, hugging and laughing. Laughing and hugging. But then she asked, “What the hell were you thinking? Running off in pyjama’s, clenching a banana and imitating a baboon?”
“Woops”, I whispered.
Maybe it really had been the alcohol.

ähm, und das hier hab ich an der bushaltestelle geschrieben. Bis her hab ich es nur Kevin gezeigt, und der meinte dass sie oké ist.
Spoiler The Selfportrait:
“I lost my way” she sniffs, turning her gaze away from him. “I completely lost it.”

The girl looked down on a paper. It read “How would you describe yourself?” One of those beautiful questions on which everyone seemed to expect an answer. This time just to become more familiar to a higher authority. Her new teacher.
Chewing on her pen she tried to think. How would she describe herself?
Turning mentally around to look into her personal mirror, she began to draw a self-portrait.
A stony face, soft to the touch, sketched into thin lines across the imaginary paper. A mouth, stiff of seriousness, eyes gleaming with laughter. Hair the colour of fire and flame, the texture of cool water.
Ears sharp and focussed on her surroundings, a contrast to the absent and glazed expression...


He wraps his arms around her. “It’s okay” he says, in a comforting whisper.
The girl smiles through her tears, wrinkling her wise little nose. “Mathematically,” she explains, “two opposites combined in addition.. make zero.”
I’m no one..
I lost myself in search for me.

Bild



ähm.. ja ich mag flashbacks und träume xD
Und ich schreibe gerne in der 'ich' form, obwohl es meistens _nicht_ über mich geht oder autobiografisch ist.
Und ehm.. ja ich mag metaforische schen. Ihr durft euch selber ausdenken wer 'er' ist. Ihr vater, ihr freund, ihr schutzengel...
The water is pulling me near...
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Re: Jeskes Little Poems and Proses.

Beitrag von Silbermondie » Mi 23. Sep 2009, 17:18

waaah ich werd neidisch! Dein ENglisch ist so toll! *___* :love: xD deine Geschichten sind natürlich auch toll *___*
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Yesuke
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Re: Jeskes Little Poems and Proses.

Beitrag von Yesuke » Di 6. Okt 2009, 17:18

So..
Hatte heute mal wieder inspiration O.o
oderso..
Wieder auf englishc, nicht besonders gut xD
Spoiler Sick of life:
A strong smell of burned tobacco penetrated my nose, making me walk faster. The cars rushed past my side, I being safely on the left, heading innocently for school. My thoughts wandered off to the sky. The clouds were so beautiful today. A small tuft, which reminded me strongly of a rabbit, bumped lightly into a heart shaped one, forming a dolphin. So pretty...

Someone pulled me roughly by the shoulders, back to the pedestrian pavement. I startled as he shouted at me. “Are you sick of life!?”.
No, why? Looking around, I noticed several changes. Two cars had nearly crushed into each other, in the hope of not overthrowing me. Apparently I had been thus focussed on the clouds that I hadn’t seen the cars emerging as I tried to cross over.

The man - it could've been a boy by his looks - scoweld at me. His cigarette mirrored his disapproval, sending long threads of grey smoke up into the sky, drowning the natural whites and blues above. He coughed, a sign of weakness after several years of decaying lungs. “Are you sick of life or what?” he repeated.
“No,” I replied, looking innocently ignorant. “Are you?”

Bild
An und fÜr sich hab ich ja nichts gegen raucher ;P
Ich find's nur schade.
Und nicht nur fÜr die leute die selber rauchen.. aber auch für die leute die es ehm.. 'riechen' müssen xD Ich selber kann nicht gut gegen den Rauch.. ich ersticke immer fast drinne.. O.o hat mein vater auch.
Asthma vllt? xD

Es ist btw nicht wirklich passiert.
Ich hab die geschichte ausgedacht als ich zur schule lief und ein junge vor mir rauchte... und die rauch recht in mein gesicht kam und ich husten musste xD
Zuletzt geändert von Yesuke am So 1. Nov 2009, 10:14, insgesamt 2-mal geändert.
The water is pulling me near...
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Re: Jeskes Little Poems and Proses.

Beitrag von Silbermondie » Mi 7. Okt 2009, 14:14

ehm erstmal: gute Geschihcte ^^
dann: ich hab das auch Oo nicht ganz so stark... aber es ist da...O
schreib weiter so toll ;D
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Yesuke
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Re: Jeskes Little Poems and Proses.

Beitrag von Yesuke » So 25. Okt 2009, 09:57

The Willow And The Fish

She tried to plant a tree underwater.
Her silver hair danced with the liquid surrounding her, as the took the seed and put it in the muddy ground. Days, weeks, mayhaps even years she waited quietly for the willow to sprout. But it wouldn't.
She tried everything she could. offering fish to the floragoddess. Bringin air from up above. Singing songs to help the seed awake, but nothing made her dream come true; the only thing she had ever wished for: to have the world above her in a place in which she can breath, in which she can admire it, be part of it without losing her consciousness.
And ever more did she realise that she, with her pearly skin and saphire eyes, didn't belong there in the sea.

I tried to keep a fish alive.
Alive, without the water. But whatever my efforts, it didn't survive. It didn't revive.
My only wish to see the seaworld in a place in which I can breath shattered before my eyes as I saw the body of the fish lie motionless on the dry ground. Willows surrounded the melancholic scene. Their branches hung down sadly, but rocked softly back and forward as if trying to ease my pain.
And ever more did I realise that I, with my darkened skin and hazelbrown eyes, didn't belong here on the land.


Bild

das mit der weige (wiede, whatever xD) wollte ich schon lange schreiben. Vllt verwende ich es nochmal in einer andere geschiichte, denn diese ist nicht ganz so gut gelungen.
Was ich hiermit sagen will ist dass man sich nicht selber entscheiden kann wer man ist, und wo du geboren wurden bist. Man kann vieles ändern aber manche sachen überhaupt nicht. So werde ich nie einen native speaker Irisch werden, denn ich bin's nun mal nicht. So werde ich nie richtig erleben wie das leben als eine aboriganal wär, denn ich bin keine und die werden mir bestimmt nicht in ihre gruppe einladen ;)
Man muss aber akzeptieren wer du bist.

ps. ich hab jetzt auch n deviantart für meine schreibwerke... Weil schreiben doch ganz anders ist als fotomanipulationen. http://psychoproser.deviantart.com/
The water is pulling me near...
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Re: Jeskes Little Poems and Proses.

Beitrag von Silbermondie » Sa 31. Okt 2009, 02:58

ich versteh was du meinst...
schön geschrieben ist es übrigens auch mal wieder...ich glaube du musst dir ganz schön was einfallen lassen, damit ich über eine deiner Geschichten was schlechtes sage xD
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Re: Jeskes Little Poems and Proses.

Beitrag von Yesuke » Sa 31. Okt 2009, 23:39

The Copy

My brush stopped dead on the stiff canvas. The paint had already dried, however fresh it had been. This was the point on which my masterpiece was finished, the moment in which the excitement flowed out of my body, sending disappointment, disapproval in its stead. Every line and every colour looked just like you.
Not the one that I had known long ago. The one I made you into.

How weird it is that sometimes your own creations turn out to be horrible, more terrifying than anything you've seen in your entire life. How weird it is that sometimes you are the one to blame for a crime uncommited. For ending something you've begun, because you've blown it into life.

Dead is your face now.
Silent with guilt that doesn't belong to you.
Contorted with fear that doesn't suit you.
Unconsious lies, unnessesary sorrys.

Quietly, I looked away from the painted mirror that faintly reflected myself.
I'm the only one who can break it. I'm the only one who can save you.
I want to slid your throat, cut myself out of you.
I want to free me from you.
Free you from me.
So I can look at you again
and say
and think
and know
You're not a copy.


Bild






Bisschen personal ^^ versteht eh kaum jemand...
Hachja : )
und danke, Silbermondie <3
The water is pulling me near...
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Yesuke
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Re: Jeskes Little Poems and Proses.

Beitrag von Yesuke » So 1. Nov 2009, 14:56

Ouh, first doppelpost hier! : O
verzeih mir. ^^

Ich weiss, es ist mehr ein gedicht. Aber der titel hier sagt auch "POEMS and proses"
Murahaaa :D
und gedichte brauchen nicht immer zu reimen.
They don't have to make sense either o.o
Zum glück :D





Dancing With The Elements

hair waving an whipping
a silhouette twisting and turning
there she stood, dancing with the elements

the earth to stand her ground upon
- a stubborn but comforting harbour -

the wind to blow away her thoughts
- a saviour for her inner struggles -

the water to bend the solar rays
- a colourful display of life -

She, herself, the lively flame
- a source of ambition and strive -

hair waving and whipping
her silhouette twisting and turning
there she was, dancing with the elements
The water is pulling me near...
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