Anyone draw or write poetry??

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ChandieLee

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 25, 2007
Messages
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Location
Auburn, Massachusetts, USA
I'm sorry if someone made this thread already. I looked and I couldn't find one.

I looove drawing and writing! So I wanted to share my latest drawingwith you guys ^_^. It's not much, but I'm proud of it.


P4080010.jpg




I'd love to see other people's drawing or poetry or short stories!

Chandielee ^_^
 
very cool!

i am just getting back into art, after taking a few years off.

i think i have these posted somewhere, but i don't have any others on my computer at this time and felt like sharing!

art002.jpg


even more interesting then my artwork is my metal work. . . one of my spiral wind things i did:

rabbits_and_swirl___theswirl.jpg


or him. . . i don't have a good photo. but it is a dragon made entirely of tape. . .then spray painted gold and silver

dragon.jpg


a bunny sketch i did a long time ago:

bunny1.jpg


a clown maske i did in highschool:

100_0631.jpg


and finally (i could go on and on with the photos, but i won't) my favorite sketch i did:

look.jpg


and one of me sorting out one portfolio (of the many) of my art work:

100_1211.jpg


 
I used to draw in High School. Now I craft. Isew, knit, sculpt, I'll try pretty much anything. I am constantlyinspired to make my own thing. I am the proud creator of Bluddys.http://www.bluddys.com I even gotwritten up in Tattoo Savage for them a few years back. :bunnydance:


Here are some of myother things...

scarf2.jpg


Knitbunny.jpg


ornament.jpg


sugarskullfront.jpg


scarf.jpg



~Star~

 
I am always so in awe of people who share theirtalents...drawings, paintings, sculptures, writings, etc...there's awhole lot of wonderfully creative folk here! For myself, I've dabbled abit in sketching and writing. I posted a pic I drew once before (willpost it again when I find the scan), and I'll post the beginning of oneof my short stories I wrote a few years ago; it'd be too long to postthe whole thing. This one was rather dark, as the subject matterconcerned a girl who was dealing with an abusive stepfather. But thefirst few paragraphs aren't too disturbing to read, so here is thebeginning of the story (LOL...every time I go back and read somethingI've written, I see the flaws and want to rewrite!).

The River

It was a long path to the river. There were no twists and turns tospeak of, but it was narrow, its long course caressed with a softblanket of pine needles, brown and dried after their quiet spirallingdescent from the lofty trees that were once home. Small rocks protrudedhere and there from the rich loam soil, their undisturbed presence asilent observer to the passage of time. Dense ostrich ferns and otherassorted vegetation lined the way, with the occasional moss-covered logsmattering the landscape. It was a wild creature’s paradise, and oftenin the early morning mist deer could be seen grazing quietly, headsdown and tails flicking back and forth in unison.

She made her way tediously through the forest that afternoon. It waslate November and the sky reflected the sombre mood of the day. Darkgrey clouds filtered out the waning sun. A cool breeze swayed thetrees’ branches, as gently as a mother would soothe a babe to sleep ina cradle. The girl’s feet, clad in a nondescript pair of worn sneakers,slowly found their way along the path. It was a route so familiar thatshe could almost walk it blindfolded. Her jeans, old and tatteredhand-me-downs long since ready to be discarded, dragged lazily alongthe ground, sweeping the path clean of its assorted debris. Her greyfleece sweater was pulled tightly around her thin body in an attempt toshield herself from the late fall air. The hood was pulled over herhead, hiding most of her face, yet a few pale wisps of blonde hairmanaged to escape from underneath. She held her head resolvedlydownward, watching dishearteningly as the ground passed under her feet.

Somewhere in the distance a small dog ran excitedly back and forth. Hisstubby tail wagged furiously as he darted from one side of the path tothe other, exploring every hollow and mound of earth. He was in searchof treasures that only a canine would find stimulating. A chipmunk inthe hole of a nearby tree, the sound of muffled chirps coming from someunidentified animal burrowed within the ground, or scattered remnantsof a long-gone deer or rabbit…these things could entertain him forhours on end. Suddenly he stopped, head jerking instantly upwards. Hisears cocked to one side as he listened. It was the sound of someonewalking on the path; her footsteps. He would recognize them anywhere.In a flash he was racing ahead towards her, his adventures in forestexploration momentarily forgotten.

She turned and saw the small dog come dashing eagerly up to her.“Jake!” she exclaimed as she dropped down to one knee. “What are youdoing here?” Jake answered her in the only language he knew. He leapedinto her arms and began to lick her face furiously with his soft pinktongue. She smiled at this, but just as quickly the smile faded, andonce again she stood up and began to walk slowly ahead. He bouncedahead of her, his face an expression of sheer delight, his body oneendless coil of energy. She frowned at this now, upset that her littledog was intent on joining her on this journey. “Jake!” she yelled athim, “Go home, Jake! Go home!” But Jake was no longer listening. He ranahead, nose to the ground, determined to find whatever mystical forestcreature was eluding him. The girl sighed hollowly and continued on herway.

Her name was Terri. Well, in actual fact it was Theresa; Theresa IreneTraeger. She had hated her name from the day she was old enough to beable to hate names. Theresa was such a feminine name, far too properfor her liking. She had countless arguments with her mother over it,pleading with her to be allowed to change her name to something moresuitable, like Abbey or Dana, but to no avail. Her mother was adamantthat she remain ‘Theresa’, having been christened with this honour ofdistinction after her great-grandmother. So she had finally relented,but with a condition; she wrote, spoke, and introduced herself as‘Terri’. And her mother simply sighed and shrugged her shoulders. Yeteven that wasn’t the worst of her name; much to Terri’s horror, someonein her class at the beginning of the school term – grade seven and herfirst year in junior high – had discovered her middle name. Whatfollowed was an embarrassment beyond embarrassments; the word spreadquickly of Terri’s unfortunate placement of initials, and she soonbecame known throughout the entire school as ‘Terri the tit’. Thishumiliation caused her to be the laughingstock of the entire gradeseven ensemble, and for days Terri had fought to not to return toschool. In the end, however, she had once again lost out, and solemnlyreturned to class. Nothing further was said to her by her fellowstudents, as the teacher had given them all fair warning about thepenalties incurred for teasing someone so maliciously, but that warningstill did nothing to stop the subdued snickers and whispers exchangedbehind her back. And so Terri had endured it all with quiet rejection,sitting abjectly at her desk, head held down, long mousy hair coveringher face like a ragged veil. She became withdrawn from the world duringthose moments of her life, with no one to call a friend. She feltalone, unappreciated, and worthless.

*****
 
Here's a drawing I did many years ago...it's ascan of the original, which is quite tattered from being folded up andshoved away.

horsesketch.jpg

 
the sun may set

the moom may come

the stars will come out to play

and in the darkness you will run

from the turning of the day

you will run from dusk to dawn

like a timid little fawn

away from the fears tucked inside of you

yet you fail to tell me who

as you cry a single tear

your thoughts and dreams become a fear

i wrote that when i was 12. . . i was a dark child. . .
 
Starina wrote:
Iused to draw in High School. Now I craft. I sew, knit, sculpt, I'll trypretty much anything. I am constantly inspired to make my own thing. Iam the proud creator of Bluddys.http://www.bluddys.com I even gotwritten up in Tattoo Savage for them a few years back. :bunnydance:


Here are some of myother things...

scarf2.jpg


Knitbunny.jpg


ornament.jpg


sugarskullfront.jpg


scarf.jpg



~Star~


awww!! i want that knitted bun!!!!!!!!!!!!!
 
WHY

As i walked along an empty street

I saw a bench and took the seat

thinking about my loss and gain upcame feelings of loving and shame

Is it me who is happy or sad?

Is it me who is joyful or mad?

Am i confused bewildered or lost?

which of these am i the most?



Feeling small,sad and alone

I wondered have i got a home?

Recently i've felt left out, too far away to call or shout

but no one tried to stop and give

I wonder shall i try and live?

But then a thought at the back of my mind!

Something i had left behind

Some relief not sorrow or grief

And just as i reached out to grab that happy

A rush of pain soared within me

a crach , a pain , i hear a crack

and suddenly a sea of black

now my life, i shall never get back

and as i float towards the sky

i think, i stop

I just ask why



( i wrote that when i was 11... a year ago.)


 
Awww, crud... I had a long reply typed and it got eaten :(



Very nice all of you!!! Keep at it -- who knows where you'll end up!



I minored in art in college and always have loved to write.My first "published piece" was in a trade-specific journal incollege. I'm a "professional" author -- I self-published andillustrated my first book, then was picked up by a major publisher andhave two current titles. I also have a children's story thatI'll see about getting published IF I ever finish it...

I also love to draw and paint :D



My current artsy "thing" is jewelry making. I'll try to paste a couple of my favorite pieces in here.




 
I draw. Here is a dog I did

rada3.jpg


And a horse
penhorse.jpg





A person. Namely Captain Kirk. It was drawn a long timeago. I was just learning how to draw people and a video casehad him on it, so...
captainkirk.jpg


This bird's wing somehow got smeared on photoshop when I was resizingit and clearing it up. I'm going to get a better scan ofit. This was also done a while back.
Bird3.jpg


I also do poetry. My latest poem 'The battle of pointless lies'

[align=center]So focused on the score
You forget to play the game
Losing your soul
In you attempt to find a name
You pat me on the back
To find place for a knife
Smiling on the outside
But inside there is strife

A deadly dance of politics
A ballet of lethal knives
A game of pointing fingers
It is the battle of pointless lies

You say do unto others
Before they do unto you
Find the most dirt on them
Not caring what is true
How many lives are sacrificed?
Is only your conscience spared?
Is standing on your principles
Too much to bare?

Wake up and see the world
Stop leaving bodies as you go
It is yourself you are fighting
Not I who is your foe[/align]
 
Here's something I wrote a few years ago when Iwas a member of another forum. I wrote this as a post after someone hadbeen complaining about the high cost of food...and in our area theprice of tomatoes had soared to alltime records. So I started writingwhat was going to be a rant about prices, and it turned into this(guess I was pretty bored...oh, and btw, it's based on true events):

Yes, I Have No Tomatoes (Not for the faint of heart)

Day One: The Three Stewges

Okay, so I was aware that the recent storms in the southeast UnitedStates were going to have an impact on the price of some produce in ourstores, but the realization didn't hit me fully until I went groceryshopping the other night. After putting my food through the self-servecheckout, I came to the last of my items: an impressive bag oflovingly-selected tomatoes. Now, these tomatoes were of the largervariety, around the circumference of small beefsteaks, and I had pickedup seven of them, planning on using them in various recipes this week.I placed the bag on the scale, punched in the designated tomato code,waited...and proceeded to pick my jaw off the floor when the price cameup: seven tomatoes, semi-large, not-so-juicy...$25.79!!!! I couldn'tbelieve it.

So I went over to the acne-mapped teen who was supervising theself-serve checkouts - eyeing him a bit suspiciously, as he didn'tappear old enough to even know how to spell tomato - and asked him whatwas wrong. He checked on his computer, looked at me and said, 'Well,I’m sorry ma’am…but the price is right...$25.79'. I would have burstinto tears had I been able to decide which was worse to cry about: theobvious extortion that was being allowed to take over the supermarketproduce department, or that fact that I had just been called ‘ma’am’. Ihesitated, then reluctantly returned four of the plump redalmost-purchases to their bin and then returned to re-weigh the ones Iwas keeping. Okay, so this time the price was a bit lower: threetomatoes, the smallest of the semi-large, not-so-juicy...$10.21. Isighed resignedly, put the tomatoes in my bag, and went home.

After putting away my groceries I looked at these tomatoes...Larry,Curly, and Moe (hey, for the price I paid, I figured they at least hadto have names) and I set all three on the counter. They stared back atme, not the least bit apologetic for their cost. In fact, when I turnedmy back I swear, one of them stifled a snicker (personally I think itwas Moe...he looked to be the bad apple of the bunch – so to speak).
Dinner time, 5:00 p.m.: Larry made a heartwrenching decision. Yes, hesaw that I was preparing a salad for dinner, and knowing that one ofthem had to go, he tearfully said goodbye to his two tomato bretherenand rolled into my hands...offering himself to me as an ultimatesacrifice. 'Goodbye, Larry', I thought I heard Curly and Moe cry out,'We will never forget you'. Their little tomato eyes welled up, andjuice fell unabashedly down their little tomato cheeks. Larry'sunselfish act of kitchen-aid gallantry caused a tear to form in my eyeas well (or, was it the Spanish onion I was slicing into the dish?).

Lunchtime, 12:00 p.m., the following day:

Curly - that dear, sweet-natured not-so-juicy Curly - must have beenoverwhelmed by grief at the loss of his fallen comrade. As I stoodthere preparing a scant meal for myself, wondering what I could do tospruce it up, Curly saw me. He looked into my eyes, the sadness of hislittle vegetable (excuse me...fruit) face was unmistakable. I lookedback at him, then at Moe, and before I could utter a word, ithappened...Curly leapt into the food processor and committedtomatocide. Oh, it was terrible...there were Curly-bits everywhere,splattering the walls and table with thick red not-so-juicy chunks. Ihurriedly placed myself in front of Moe, desperate to block his viewfrom the horrific scene. After all, he'd been through enough traumaalready in losing his other brother-in-vines. Then, with a heavy heartI reached for the dishrag and began to clean up the remains.

Day Three...A Bitter End

The next morning Moe was resting on my kitchen counter, alone butsurviving. I had decided to pamper him, treat him like royalty afterall that had happened. He sat on a bed made of the softest paper towel(extra-thick absorbency), and I gave him the best view in thehouse...at the edge of the counter, next to the window which overlookedthe street. There he sat, his semi-large not-so-juicy body basking inthe sunlight of the early day. I got ready for work, my sadness overLarry and Curly lessened somewhat by the presence of my one last fruityfriend. As I prepared to leave, I leaned over and kissed him, his shortgreen stem gently tickling my face. Little did I know it would be thelast time I would see him alive.

That evening I came home toting a surprise for my little red friend.I'd stopped at the video store and picked up a copy of 'Attack Of TheKiller Tomatoes', hoping that this shlocky attempt at fruitine horrorwould help to lift Moe's spirits. I took off my coat, set down thevideo tape and called out, "Moe? Moe, I'm home"; but there was noresponse. I froze, wondering where my semi-large, not-so-juicy friendcould be. I entered the kitchen and looked. There on the counter satMoe's bed, but...he was gone. Frantically I began searching everywherefor him: on the stovetop, behind the spice rack, in the microwave...yethe was nowhere to be seen. Had Moe decided to play hide-and-seek withme? I wondered...and within moments the answer waddled up to me. Mydog, a smile on her face as large as a Cheshire cat's grin, stoodbefore me and wagged her tail with sublime innocence. And on her facewas the unmistakeable red stain of...Moe.

"How could you?!?" I shouted at my not-so-best-friend-at-the-momentcanine. "How could you eat Moe?!!?!!?" But she didn't understand...shesimply stared at me and burped. Apparently Moe wasn't all that juicy,but he did cause gas. I cried, now bereft of my three semi-large,not-so-juicy friends. They gave their lives gallantly, and I shallnever forget them.

At least, until next Tuesday...when I go shopping for groceries once more....

 
Here are some pictures I've done:

Sunny on her cat condo (she moved before I could finish):
000_0368.jpg


My Emily's feet:
000_0367.jpg


Hobbes sleeping (also unfinished because of movement):
000_0366.jpg


Mr. Hobbes again:
000_0365.jpg


Some misc. of Hobbes (my fav model):
000_0364.jpg


000_0363.jpg


000_0362.jpg


000_0360.jpg


My stuffy, Herbie:
000_0357.jpg


And the real-life Herbie:
000_0183.jpg


One of two of Em's stuffies:
000_0172.jpg


And the stuffy on the right:
000_0184.jpg


:D
 
WOW!!! you are an amazing artist!!!! those are excellent!!!!!!!!!!! i love them!



:mrsthumper:

Katt wrote:
very cool!

i am just getting back into art, after taking a few years off.

i think i have these posted somewhere, but i don't have any others on my computer at this time and felt like sharing!

art002.jpg


even more interesting then my artwork is my metal work. . . one of my spiral wind things i did:

rabbits_and_swirl___theswirl.jpg


or him. . . i don't have a good photo. but it is a dragon made entirely of tape. . .then spray painted gold and silver

dragon.jpg


a bunny sketch i did a long time ago:

bunny1.jpg


a clown maske i did in highschool:

100_0631.jpg


and finally (i could go on and on with the photos, but i won't) my favorite sketch i did:

look.jpg


and one of me sorting out one portfolio (of the many) of my art work:

100_1211.jpg
 
thanks *blush* i try

i have always been big into art, and find it one of the biggest comforts in my world. . .
 
Sorry it's taken awhile, but here is some of my poetry....
I should say that I wasn't the happiest person when I wrote them though.


Look at me
I'm not who I used to be
And all I'll ever see
Is this poor excuse for a beauty queen
I don't want to be me anymore
This feeling inside's not worth fighting for
And don't I wish that I could ignore
The fact that I just can't breathe anymore?


The words are in my blood
And I wish I could let them flow
Like a crimson river
And pretend like I know what to say.
The thought is in my head
And I wish I could relieve it
Like painkillers
But it’s there day after day.
The image is in my eye
And I wish I couldn’t see
Like I was blind
And act like I don’t care
The poetry’s in my soul
And I wish I could let it out
Like an exorcism
But it’s always my burden to bare.


The second is about writer's block :?


Chandielee
 
Um not done.

I glance at a falling leaf a watch as it floats to the ground, a brushof wind against my skin leave me feeling at peace. Standing on mybalcony as darkness falls, the rain kissing my skin like a lovers touchwashing away the pain and fear.

I sometimes long for a life where so much death, pain, andbetrayal has not touched who I am. If that was to happen it would takeaway the good I have found. It would take away what has created theperson I am. I am proud of how even through theworst of times I have stayed true to what I believe. I amproud of who I am.

I love how the snow falls covering the ground like a clean slate,letting you start fresh for awhile. Till it clearsand reveals the problems, the pain...that nothing has really changed.You learn from what has happend and you take that next step. Youcontinue to just enjoy the small things, those little moments ofpeace. Those moments of absolute joy. You treasure those trueto you, those who support you even when they don'tagree. Life sets paths in front you, it up to you to choosewhich to take. Sometimes you take the wrong one, you can't go back butyou make the best of what is there.

Love what you can, enjoy what is there, and see where life takes you.


 

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