Lorinal's profile
AGE:
19
LOC: United States
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: November 06
LOC: United States
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: November 06
Hello! I like to write- never realized I have a knack for allusions until I became a debater. News and history have always been of interest to me.
The poem Lae-ti-triumphantes was actually written to create an image- the form is impossible to recreate on Urbis. Simply imagine a diamond on top of a larger body with a smaller body below. “serene…serene” is the diamond, the next section is a larger body, and the last section is the ending area. It makes sense if you look at it the way I wrote it! But right now it has a weird form- ah well.
Thanks for reviewing my work and I enjoy Urbis very much!
I like to write in an archaic form- but I’ll answer any questions if they come up- I also try to write in a format that can be unders…
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Version 5
3 Reviews
0 Comments
No matter how hard the trial was turned over and over the poor woman churned. She churned all day, and smoked all night yet nothing could delay her fight. She fought with the milk -not yet pasteurized. To make some silk (beautiful butter) according to her eyes. Traditional and vain, her toils no trouble the world delayed her, a bubble was doubled. Nothing to do but to keep the stick going and hope that the air would stop its throwing. The winds did blow, and blow again But she kept churning, ...
Version 2
1 Review
0 Comments
A drop, a silver glow, flowing gracelessly away. No one knows the throes that follow from the pain. Albeit there must be a symphony of mercury, of mint and ground gors (for potpourri you see) But not one knowledge exists, of the lasting paravant. Controvert, all of you, controvert I say! Do you know the story, the story of the hay? The hay was dry and scalded, sitting in a barn. The owners were dead, heat stroke: the yarn- The yarn rolled down the grandma's lap, her head lolled right along w...
Version 4
2 Reviews
0 Comments
I tremble, the thimble, it comes undone. What, ask you, may they say is won? The days are long, the nights dreary And my sewing has made me oh so weary. I labour all day, and now struggle all night to start the miniscule, precise little light. It shines softly on me, warm and clear (so near) Yet having it on me brings a vast road of fear. Tumble and rumble, toil no more I care not for tapestries, knights or their gore. The fire is lit, the threads unravel And now I must take flight, to fight-...
Version 1
3 Reviews
0 Comments
A drop, a silver glow, flowing gracelessly away. No one knows the throes that follow from the pain. Albeit there must be a symphony of mercury, of mint and ground gorse (for potpourri you see) But not one knowledge exists, of the lasting paravant. Controvert, all of you, controvert away! Do you know the story, the story of the hay? The hay was dry and scalded, sitting in a barn The owners were dead, heat stroke: the yarn The yarn rolled down the grandma's lap, her head lolled along and the c...
Version 1
16 Reviews
4 Comments
Lae ti Triumphantes (Joyful and Triumphant) Serene Oh how clean, the birds of a feather Sticking together, till all has come to nil, watering the heather Wait, what have we here? A canteen? A bronzed relic of some bygone day? Tell, do you have the tessitura for such a run? Don’t strain. Push yourself, not another Serene Tranquility, the free are near, how do you fare in times of fear? Oh, what does the world say to the mockingbird, crying in delight at maroon recognizance? They are near, we a...
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Chthonian? What the heck? Clarify what those are in reviewer notes! I'm guessing a classification for a type of bell...If I knew what they were (rather than being forced to look them up) I might be able to relate better :/
In the first groupings, there needs to be, in my honest opinion, a period somewhere. "each day I live in up most fear"- should be up-most. The phrase after that, "that someday you may disappear"- I recommend changing may to will for more strength in the phrase. Why are you living in up-most (highest amount) fear that he/she -may- disappear? A beautiful poem on love.
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