creative writing

(Poem) Painting of the Souls

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Deep within I know my questions will be my bane.

Inside I know that it is not of feign.

I have my answers, of that I am sure.

The path I take is the cure.

 

My questions answered with sound from her lips,

and my heart clinging to the words before it slips.

Painting of the souls is what occurs in time,

when the hearts of ones who should be together, her’s and mine.

 

When ink and paint drip together,

my heart feels connected in a tether.

Questions still linger, but I hold hope.

They will weigh me down, with only her hand holding up this slope.

(Poem) The Black Rose

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Admiring from afar, I learned of the black rose.

She was quite beautiful, but the door was closed.

 

With eyes of blue and green,

They were the most gorgeous I’ve ever seen.

 

With lips of green apple,

Kissing them was an idea I had to grapple.

 

The day she could be my rose,

The day I could be the Doctor, I suppose.

 

I offer the feelings of two hearts,

to the black rose of the arts.

I’m actually using my second Tumblr! (AKA links, links everywhere)

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I have two tumblr blogs set up. One is my popular DisneyTronBlog with almost 700 followers! (I don’t know if that really is a lot or not)

The other is a blog I made when I converted the first one to a Tron-based blog. It’s where I’ll post more personal stuff, like my poems, Alan Wake stuff, writing related pictures/posts. and non-tron things. Doctor Who pictures/gifs and other BBC shows will be shared on to there as well. It’s easy to find too. It’s just BrandanChapman. I’ll post my blog and journal updates on there as well.

If you’re a fan of Tumblr, this would be an easier means as to follow me, if you lack a Facebook, DeviantArt, Twitter, or even Google+. You can follow me just about anywhere online! If you like games, I like to stream on Twitch. I’ll post any of my decent streams on Youtube. I want to also start making vlogs. More to come on that. I may even read my book prologues for videos.

You can also get my books here, for the readers out there.

Never Surrender

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Heading into my second year as an author I began to wonder if self publishing was right for me. Everywhere I read says that self publishing is the best option for a lot of reasons, including: “more money” and control. The control I get. I have the control over who I get to edit, what gets put in the books, and the artwork.

I get that self publishing gets more money, because you can choose your price and that in turn can make you the most profit.

I guess I am just bummed because I haven’t found my target audience yet. My books are aimed for teens to young adults, and even adults. But being science fiction/fantasy may be a hard genre.

I also don’t know if readers are interested in a series of books, rather than stand alone ones. I’m writing a series, hoping to add several more to it in the next year or so.

Even though my writing career hasn’t taken off yet, with just two books self published, I’m not going to give up just yet. Hoping a day will come that readers find my books interesting enough to read.

(Poem) Pits of Ice

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Venturing into the pits of ice,
shivering in the lonely black.
It happened at a throw of dice,
losing the warmth somewhere back.

Whispers in her voice flow with the wind,
it’s all around to escape such a heavenly noise.
My chilled voice follows all of those sinned,
with the absence of all of our joys.

What comes next, after the forges and now the pits.
A fortress of despair? Castle of sorrow?
I push on, continuing takings the icy hits,
wishing to make it, hoping time will let me borrow.

(Poem) Into the Depths

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The darkness at the bottom engulfs me.
I search for safety.
I’m pulled into the light by a helping hand.
She pulled me into a tunnel, drained of water.

Light lit the small rooms.
The girl led the way, like a older sibling.
Other people were here too,
But I couldn’t bare to look at them.

I can’t stay this way here forever.
She led me to the core of this city.
She says there is only one escape.
To the surface, from this city of Rapture.

(Poem) Forges of Confusion

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Each day, another question asked.
Answers revealed only subtly.
Wondering how many days have passed,
waiting to get some sort of rebuttal.

Pounding away in the forges of confusion,
questions swirl around in the smoke.
Just a smith to get the resolution,
to get out if this before I choke.

The hand extended is the escape.
I want to take it without hesitation.
Will the hand I reach partake?
My heart aches at my procrastination.

I wrote this poem quickly for a Creative Writing class prompt. I can be rather terrible at rhyming.

Books: http://amzn.to/1spowfk

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Twitter: @AuthorBrandan