#1
I don't know if this is necessarily a bad thing, but I'm not very fond of it. Whenever I write lyrics, it seems more as if I'm writing a book.

Here's something I just wrote.

With my eyes gazing at the ceiling, and the winds outside sweeping, I ponder what could possibly be causing the screaming from down our hall. My imagination? Can't be. Father went out for work. Wait... those sounds are not from down our hall. They're beyond the boundaries of my home. It's not just screaming, I hear pleads for help, and womens' shrieking voice: "NOOOO!!!" My body is frozen in time, my thoughts surrounding on what's occuring. Could this house blow up any time now? What's Father doing? Shall I flee? Shall I hide? This bed can't protect me from everything. Neither can Mother... if only she survived the crash. Through all the thoughts racing my mind, I realize: Silence. The kind that pierces the ears. Has it all finally come to an end? Did someone attack us? Who won? As my body is placed back in motion, my movements become passive, as if I'm completely unaware of my actions. I drone out of my room. As I open the front door, I do not see my home. I see ruins, and not a single body in one piece. Though the color of crimson red is not prominent, never has destruction been so immense. I look back to see my house, which has not a scratch upon it. Some would call this a miracle, But I call it a curse. In the distance, the clouds are still ominous. I still see the remains of a cyclone hovering. Hovering, and dispersing into the thin air, and as I glare at its dissipating into nothing, My soul stands alone.

I realize it's not the most poetic thing in the world, but I feel that it's too much like a book... I don't seem to know how to write "poetically." I didn't want to separate it into stanzas, even though it was in stanzas when I wrote it...
Last edited by DarcX at Aug 3, 2010,
#2
it works for eddie vedder
plmokn12 wrote:
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#4
Tommy Rogers of Between the Buried and Me has a writing style much like this, and it works well. I'd say use it.
#5
if it works, go with it.

however if you wanted to change it, you could always just simplify it.

instead of
with my eyes gazing at the ceiling
and the winds outside sweeping

you could just go with
eyes gazing at the ceiling,
winds outside sweeping.

doesnt seem like much, but yeah, basically just taking out all the filler words.
#6
Quote by Doonan

however if you wanted to change it, you could always just simplify it.

Thanks, that might help.

I guess I'll try stanza-ing it and simplify it.

With eyes gazing at the ceiling,
With the winds outside sweeping,
I ponder to what could possibly be the cause
Of the screaming from down our hall.

Pure imagination? Impossible.
Father has gone out for work.

Interesting, the screaming is not from down our hall.
They're beyond the boundaries of my home.
It's not just screaming, but pleads for help from the Gods,
and womens' shrieking voice: "NOOOO!!!"

My body is frozen in time,
My thoughts surrounding on what's occuring.
Could this house blow up any time now?
What's Father doing?

Shall I flee?
Shall I hide?
This bed can't protect me from everything.
Neither can Mother... had she not been deceased.

Through all the thoughts racing my mind, I realize:
Silence. The kind that pierces the ears.
Has it all finally come to an end?
Has there been an attack? Did we win?

As my body is placed back in motion,
My movements become passive.
As if I'm completely unaware of my actions,
I drone out of my room.

As I open the front door, I do not see my home.
I see ruins, and not a single body in one piece.

Though the color of crimson red is not prominent,
never has destruction been so immense.
I look back to see my house,
which has not a scratch upon it.

Some would call this a miracle, But I call it a curse.
Throughout the skyline, the clouds are still ominous.
I notice the remains of a cyclone hovering.
Hovering, and dispersing into the thin air,

And as I glare towards its dissipating into nothing,
My soul stands alone.