Forges of Elysium

This world is full of my artistic endeavors.

Basically it's where I try to put magic onto paper or into writing. I hope I succeed.

I'm a writer without a particular kind of writing. I do rants, stream-of-consciousness, self-reflecting stories, poems, six-word stories, articles, responses, whatever. I'm also a visual artist trying to improve. I combine these two in my talent for calligraphy, where I try to make the font and images match the words I use. And I make collages because it's fun. This world is for creativity and art. If any other artists/writers out there would like to share things, you can always PM me. I hope you enjoy the strange contents of my head. I hope to improve and get my work out into the world someday. And in the meantime, I hope that looking at this world can be a bit of a journey into the depths of wherever the hell it is that artists go to bring back their handfuls of magic. Because honestly, even I'm not entirely sure.

I changed the name of this world, by the way. This used to be creativity. It is now Forges of Elysium. I promised I'd explain why, so here it is: I wanted it to sound cooler. Elysium is, as I understand it, a part of the underworld in Greek mythology. It is the place where heroes go when they die. It is portrayed as a place where people are able to indulge the artistic urges of their nature. I loved that idea, so there you go. I shall work at my forge to create...beautiful stuff and all that.

This is a poet whose work is particularly inspiring. Warning: this video may lead to tears and explosions of feels.

* We have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down. * Creativity is about allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is about knowing which ones to keep. * Creativity gives hope that there can be a worthwhile idea. * Creativity requires the courage to let go of certainties * While we have the gift of life, it seems to me the only tragedy is to allow part of us to die. * Others have seen what is and asked why. I have seen what could be and asked why not. * Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life's coming attractions. *

Created By Sarasface

Know you can

This is the first of my challenge writings. Keyphrase "Know you can" given by SaxGirl. "Don't give up," She told me urgently, "You will figure this out. Nothing may work for you right ...

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Do me a favor

Guys, I've got an idea. I got it from my online writing blog. I've got a favor to ask you. You don't have to do much, just come up with one word or sentence, or quote. It can be weird, deep, funny, random, whatever, and I have to come up with a way to make a good poem or story about it. OR if you want to actually go further, you send me a picture or link in a PM and I have to make up a story or poem about it. (I'll include the picture in the post if it's a JPEG). I really want to do this challenge. Help me out?

Edit: Oh, and feel free to undertake this challenge yourself...that'd be cool...

New story

Just starting out a new story...yeah. Elise stared coolly across the table. Unknown to all else present, now was not the time to push her. She'd had no sleep the previous night and was wholly preoccupied with her worry. Her six-year-old da...

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Senior art show

A lot of local schools are holding a senior art show and my calligraphy teacher recommended one of my projects. I worked really hard on it...so here it is. The quote is a poem by Emily Dickinson. Sorry the image is a bit blurry. It's just from my iPod camera.

Wonder

This is a short poem I wrote a long time back. It's really only a rough draft. I have a longer one that extended to four pages, and I may post that here as well (it's one of my best) but I need to figure out how I should break that one up, or if I should. I'm afraid that might ruin it, but who has the time to read a four-page poem? I'll figure it out eventually, but in the meantime, I present Wonder.

Held together by silver safety pins and burning copper wires, shining in the dimming evening
Suspended from a mast by taut ropes yet to be cut loose, sailing into an angry red and smoky orange sunset.
All I can know, all I have known, this.
Absence of warmth from the moon. Stars are merely a sprinkling of stars. Pinpricks of light.
Deprived of wonder. Moon, stars, endless stretch of soft blanketing sky--
but that is all they are.
Remember?
Who is this "I"?
Remember? She wrote about all with wonder when she was young. Stars, moon, sky.
Boats sailing on seas, sunsets thrown over rippling waves, and even,
even what it feels like to be held together by safety pins, shoulder blades tightly strung with burning wires. Even that.
Tears sting my mind but won't come to my eyes. Tears require fractional amounts of wonder, too--slipping pearls,
soft skin in the dark, alone--
Yes, that is "life" as "I" would have defined it.
That is what's essential to be "alive".

Edit: should I post my calligraphy art here? I might.