hippopotimoose_moo's profile
AGE:
21
LOC: Olive Hill, KY
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: August 02
LOC: Olive Hill, KY
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: August 02
I write (almost anything, poetry, short stories, a novel in progress), I sketch and paint (two very different areas of art mind you) and I make my own jewelry. I just do artsy stuff in general. Terry Goodkind, Mary Brown and Anne McCaffrey are my favorite authors. My husband is my fave musician. Kentucky’s Best are made in Cynthiana KY, is there anything else you guys need to know? O and if you really like my personality you should friend me on Myspace.com! (Same name, hippopotimoose_moo, life’s great and full of irony!!) I also have an Oblivion story (the game by Bestheda) on fanfiction.net!!!! It’s under the Mature rating on the Oblivion page. The story is called: Inspired by the Spire. Those of you who haven’t played the ga…
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Version 2
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Verse 1: Tender and fragile, sharp pains of glass, As I wait for this pain to pass. The truth is better than a lie. I feel as tho I might die. Burning the wispy shell of your heart, The fires of Hell that tear me apart. Chorus: How can I stay alive, Knowing that I made you cry? The blood and the scars that flail me so Make me think that I should go, But to save your soul I won't Verse 2: I love you more than the world can see. I'd bury myself if you didn't love me. For my mistake we hurt toge...
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Version 2
3 Reviews
5 Comments
I faulter, As I sway In the waves of their torment. They hate me, They defile me In the worst possible ways. They know nothing of me, Nor of the rebellion Slitting my soul, A razor Thru the deepest part of me. I am soon to implode, To retalliate And it will not be Because I care. My love for them Is my ending And I am wrought On a burning pyre. Ever ridiculed By their damned nation. Cursing them I bare no fear. May I see the light From so deep, Within the blood engorged catacombs Of my heart?...
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Version 1
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Have you ever wandered how far reality goes? Ever thougth maybe that beyond was only our imagination and nothing more but our thoughts? Perhaps, this proves the point that WE are only the long lost thought of a lonely writer walking down a sidewalk. Maybe, we're not real at all. In all my life I've wandered if my thoughts held any meaning to anyone but me. When I realized that they don't, I was seduced by the realities of imagination and the endless possibilities of of reality. What if, in al...
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Version 1
2 Reviews
4 Comments
Between two rooms I lie and wait, Forever in love But why must you hate? Broken glass doors are shutting on me, Dull needles bring pain To heal my agony. Glass pierces flesh as you stand there, I try to confess But I know you don't care. The shards of glass that break my heart, You stand there glaring, And it ripps me apart. The doors are shut here, As I am standing Half in Love, half in Fear. My soul drips on each side of the glass. My heart still beats for you As you stand there and laugh. ...
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Version 2
2 Reviews
0 Comments
I see a face in the window, And it's some one I know. She looks confused, Somehow out of place, Altho, I know her face. I am crying out to her In pain. She looks in on me And holds my eyes With shame. As blood flows thru the ceiling And the floor, It creeps around the windowsill, Underneath the door. I'm drowning her in all my hate, But she can save me In my current state. I wade thru the crimson agony, As she looks in on me. She cries as she places Her hand on the glass. My fingertips touch ...
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It was wonderfully done. I appreciate your attention to details and how when his fiasco started they were all forgotten. I can't wait for more!! The only character I had trouble figuring out was the mom, she needs more of a physical description. And I think that the guy who mobbed her should also be the guy that was supposed to be behind the counter. That would explain the security camera being off and why the cashier was gone. I watch too much CSI can ya tell? :P
The whole making love to death thing sort of grossed me out. And as far as the keeper of the slippery moons goes I hope he can make you write about something I might actually understand. Maybe I'm just a country hick but you need to bring it down a notch, maybe a whole friggen bar, man. You are writing for a very selective group, of which, I am not a part of (and thankfully.) No offense, but I only got the gist that you were describing people (millionaires in particular) as piggy. You can ref...
100.0% Review Quality (2 Votes)
This peom has sort of a melancholy feel to it. Being envious is part of being a writer, we try to ignore it most of the tyme tho. To some it comes easy, to others, not so much. I hope it becomes easier for you dear.
Your poem seems slightly melancholy if you should ask me. It is strange to think back on tymes when things seemed to go easier to be freer. Thank you for reminding me.
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