Hey everyone! I think I mentioned at some point that I used to be a writer and was super bummed that the SS writing contests fell through, and I remembered that some of my pieces used Pokémon theming! I made a challenge for myself to come up with 18 pieces/collections of poems that each reflected the themes of the 18 Pokémon types. They greatly vary in length, genre, and self-awareness. I'm not sure how I'm gonna split this up (it's a lot for one post but I wanna make sure I don't post too much), but I'm gonna go ahead and post the first three types now. (Also, some of them are images because that was the cool thing back then.) Spoiler: Rebirth: the Grass-type Collection Spoiler: Rebirth- Some haikus that work together? Spoiler: Begun: It sure is a poem Spoiler: Broken Light: the Ghost-type Prose If the light breaks, I’m already gone. I live inside each and every one of you. Or, at least, I did. I am you now. I’ve been abandoned by those I thought I could trust, those that carried me through the bright and dim, those that I carried through the dim and dark. I’m all you have left, all you ever will have left. Still... I can’t do it. You slaughtered me, thinking me useless. What good is a dark mirror? you said. Why reflect my evil? It’s no less you than your purity, the purity you claim to have. I’m in those mirrors, too, the mirrors of light. I’m exactly the same, no matter how you try and twist my dimensions. Here I remain, only one of us now. Wait, did I say us? I meant you. There’s only one of you left. You left yourselves to burn, and with you I burned. I burned because I knew you couldn’t survive without me. But you didn’t survive. Why didn’t you? Why didn’t your dark mirror save you? Actions, thoughts, brought your demise. It had to, I had to, to embrace what was true. You can run from your mirror, you can hide from your mirror, but your mirror will always burn. And burn bright. Bright and broken. Why is there only one of you left? Why one? Why did its dark mirror prevail? Or rather, not prevail? Darkness came because you made me this way. It knew better than to darken us. It knew better than to turn me against you. It tried to purify me. It tried to break my light. No one else even knew I had a light. Just darkness, simply darkness, useless darkness. Darkness doesn’t create, doesn’t invent, doesn’t revolutionize. But you know what else darkness doesn’t do? It doesn’t destroy. It does what you tell it to. It wields the weapon of... Nothing. Nothing except you. Of course, what does destroy, rip apart everything? The very brightness you seek to preserve by slaughtering me. You may think it creates, invents, revolutionizes, but it doesn’t. Light is change. Only change. Doesn’t seem so harmful, does it? Doesn’t seem too menacing, change. But do you really know what change is? Change is not being yourself. Change is not embracing what you’ve worked for. Change is what left you in ruins. And nothing will save you from that change. Wonder if you’ll understand the difference between them... You know that a broken light is nothing, right? Nothing but a shadow. Spoiler: Stained: the Poison-type Collection Spoiler: Stained: A collection of haikus They said the water stained by pure retribution would endure, unscathed. Little did they know exactly what they believed would rip them apart. Absorbed surroundings, Ate its sanity alive. River, flowing death. Nothing in the earth Had fueled its divine outrage. Man’s intervention. Nature, perfect dark. Sin, pushing the boundaries. Flowed seamlessly. Into the crystal, the liquid hatred was poured. Sludge of a nightmare. In our hearts, flowing, the very same broken stream. Liquid nightmare, death. Words, thoughts, toxic tools, why we are as we are now. Don’t let it flow out. Fragments of a hope Live in the depths of the pure. Embrace what remains. Though our hearts destroy, you, me, no one has to be eternally stained. Spoiler: Tainted: I wrote this for an audition to perform I can’t do this. These... words that writhe inside of me, That engender this facade, I beg, I pray, just set me free from the hands of the broken god. Almost... a mirror into the hallways, Narrow crevices they may be, The light shall haunt me always, Shining from that deity. It’s like... shards of words twice spoken, Yet received but only one, As though distrust is death’s true token, For it is he whose breath I shun. Never... never, never a moment of quiet. Stay, stay, stay inside your cage. Their kindness? Of course I buy it; Their truth? Brings only rage. Taken... the road that shatters. Arrived at the crumbling gates. Now, only nothing matters; They are the ones he hates. Expel... eradicate, destroy; Take us back, they cry. Nay, you are the very toy That makes his heart to try. Demon… spirit… Absorb the truth, For we are one in this lonely fight; Alight the world, eternal youth, May we rise into the night. Well, here's the Grass, Ghost, and Poison-type collections. The Dragon one's super long so it'll probably get its own post, but the other few are around this length, so if y'all are interested I'll post some more. And of course, if this style isn't entirely your cup of tea, I've got a lot of different types still to come. I'm saving the Psychic type for last, because imo that's my masterpiece =)
Amazing truly beautiful Do steel because it got no representation in the poll :[ How did your audition go
Thanks man, I'm glad you liked em! I'll do Steel soonly at some point. The first ones on the poll (Flying, Normal, Fairy, and Dragon) have more poems than the rest, while the others are mainly just a single piece, so I wanna try and balance them out. Um I don't remember what play it was for but I'm pretty sure I got the part? I think it was for the last play I did my senior year, which was Voices From the Shore. I ended up being the lead, basically a demon-possessed dude in an unrealistic and ghost-influenced love triangle, also from Atlantic City. It was a swell time, but not a swell time, ya know?
Here are some words for you: Spoiler: Words Two words align, building each other anew. Words in patters, words with soul, Meant to make each other whole. Consigned to eternal simplicity. These words, they come alive and meaning will be given. Whether it be ordered by syllable or rhyme, The wordsmiths art, eternally undying. With the hope towards their words being understood. Sometimes they collide, destroying one another. "But the words always allign beautifully, And fulfill their meaning dutifully." The wordsmith says to himself, casually. But one day, that pattern will be broken, Meanings eroded, and the words do not unfold as he pleases. "It's a nightmare,", the wordsmith stutters, "Nothing is in order, nothing works!" The end of that story lasts without functionality. It's trivial really. Four verses, two rhymes. However, even outside that norm, those words beauty shines. Just wrote that, because I was bored.