So I wrote the poem...

Just like I said I would. It's a sonnet in a sense of the rules, not with what they were usually about, but that's ok I think. Anyway, here it is:

*~*~*~*

NaNoWriMo Prep '08

To prepare myself for NaNo,
I started late in June.
Trying to sleep I suddenly said "oh!"
"I'll write about characters who can play a tune!"

And so I started to plot.
And as I wrote my ideas,
My characters began to fear naught,
And plunge into their arenas.

One will race across the sea,
Another travels through the land.
The third stays home, with all to see.
But all could easily have made a band.

Finally all three will meet up,
And tell their stories as they sup.

*~*~*~*

So here I really am begging for responses. I'm not much of a poet, so I would really like to hear from you with any suggestions.

Poems: Coming Soon!

I've started writing poetry again recently, but since I'm writing this from my phone I can't really insert the line breaks I need. I will tell you this though: I like poems with rules. I guess thats why I like Haiku. But today I'm trying some different types. So anyway, I might have something up in a little bit. Right now I guess I just wanted to post something.

My Talents

Before we go into this, it should be noted that I have virtually no talent. I say virtually because everyone has a strength. For me, the things I'm talented at, I'm not even really remarkable at. Like...writing. I like to think that I'm a fairly good writer for a 14-year-old. But that's just it. I'm fairly good. I'm not remarkable. I don't stand out like that. The thing is, very few people stand out in any field. So I guess I just have to do it because I like to do it. I won't spend all of my time doing it. I have other things that I need to do. But I'll spend some time that I can spare for writing. And right now, I will seranade you with Haiku.

*~*~*~*

Talent. What is it?
That which you are so good at?
Compare yourself now!

Do you feel so great?
There is always one better,
One who can beat you.

Those who are the best,
If they tried so hard, there's fear.
Who will beat them next?

They live in constant fear,
If they love their position.
One will overtake.

But if you don't care,
You can enjoy your new place.
And still pass it on.

So enjoy your place,
But do not love it too much.
For it will go away.

*~*~*~*

See how bad I am? Anyway, the point is, when you're considered the best, odds are you won't stay that way for long. You're what people strive to beat. And someday, you'll be beaten. Anyway, why in the world am I talking about that? It must be NaNoWriMo. I start rambling.♪

Oh yeah! I'm ending all of my posts with that little music note thingy now...♪

Why do I write? And "Ode to My Poor Old Laptop"

No one's really asked me that, but I guess I've asked myself now. Why do I write? I don't know that anyone else in my family likes to write. I just like to do it myself. It hasn't been my dream since I was little, my dream back then was to play flute. I always have had a good imagination though. I guess I still do. But I still don't see exactly why I write. I guess I just don't know. I like it. I've got stories in my head that I don't know exist until I write them down, but it feels so good to get them down. I don't so much want to get a point of something across, except that a good novel can be written without romance, but I mostly just want to write a good story.

*~*~*~*~*

The old Windows '98 computer,
served us so well.
It held the files we needed,
And played some games to boot.

But we had to do some more,
So we put on newer software.
It slowed the poor thing down,
But it held together bravely,
And never let us down.

When we needed it no more,
And got a new computer,
We stuffed it in a closet,
And barely used it since.

After a while I picked it up,
And he started faithfully.
I typed some things on him,
And worked on websites too.

But a few weeks ago,
He had been put up for a long time,
I tried to start him up,
But he had died, he was no more.

I sighed and called my mom,
but there was nothing we could do.
He's still in the closet,
I want to save him too.

But he seems to have died,
Never to boot again,
I don't know that I can do anything for him
But write this Ode to My Poor Old Laptop.

WHAT?! MORE Haikus?!

I'm afraid so, yes.
I can't stop writing these things!
They're so addictive!

But there's a question,
One I really want to ask.
Answer honestly!

They seem to jostle,
The Haikus in my mind do.
Do they to you, too?

If so, tell me.
I get you to give me feedback!
I can't write like that!

Well, perhaps I can,
I have already, haven't I?
But I'd like to stop.

But only if they
Actually have no flow,
If they flow, say so!

I truly do beg,
For you to leave you comments,
On this Haiku post.

One more post today!

I just want to say
That I'm writing poem too much
Now I'm on Haikus

*~*~*~*

I was just thinking,
That my problem is I care
Too much about rhymes.

That "Thursday" poem there,
I wrote it without caring
About rhymes or breaks.

So I've discovered,
I really shouldn't care any
If anything rhymes

Now I say good-night,
And leave you with my Haikus,
As I go to bed!

Got the Poem!

Thursdays, how I hate thee,
You fill my life with dread
and then deliver worse than I imagine.

I can't stand how busy you make me,
How you make me so tired at night.
You force me up, then push me down.

I don't mind each activity on its own,
But in one day? Not enough time!

Piano I can deal with,
Swimming I even enjoy,
Watching kids is even ok.

But do them all in one day,
and on top of school,
I can't do it! No way!

In November, with 1,667 words per day,
How can I do it all on a Thursday?

I want to lock myself away,
With a laptop and only a little internet,
And just write the day away.

But Thursday, you vile beast,
You force me out, you keep me from operating,
I can't get a thing done! There's do much to do.

*~*~*~*

Wow, that came out better than I thought it would. Seriously, I wasn't anticipating line breaks, but they just popped up. That's cool, the two parts with only two lines even kinda fit. Look, two verses, then one with two lines. Two more verses, then another with two lines. Then two more verses. Maybe it should've ended with a two line verse, but I couldn't think of what to put. I'm not going to care right now.

Ah, a terrible poem, and info!

First I shall serenade you with a terrible poem. I wrote it kind of on the subject of NaNoWriMo (which is the info by the way)

They say everyone has a book inside of them, one that's just waiting to be put on paper. Then why is it, when I write it all out, that I'm surprised at almost every scene? I wrote out an outline, I thought it all through. I drew up maps, I thought of my characters. Why is it then, that I'm constantly surprised? Why is that each thing that comes out, it startles me, and sometimes makes me laugh? If it's from my mind, how can I not know what it is?

Shock-and-awe, that's what I get, each time I lock the editor away. I don't look at the last sentence I wrote, I merely keep writing. When I finish, I look at what came from my head, and I read over it in wonder. I wrote that, I got it down, now my editor can come to play. She'll look at it, then pull out her red pen, she'll mark it all up. I'll type it again, and think about it more. It'll be better each time, but either shorter or longer. The thing that matters is that it's on paper.

And now for the info:
NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) is every November, and you try to write a 50,000 word novel during the 30 days of November. It's insane, that's been established many times over. The point is, so many people do it, and it's so awesome to see what comes out of my head *points to poem above* I hope that makes my point. I apparently don't know it's there until it's on paper. I planned it out quite a bit, but I'm still amazed.