Time

harveyt0206

Well-Known Member
I got one...

once I rose above the noise and confusion

Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion...

I was soaring ever higher

But I flew too high.


Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man.

Though my mind could think I still was a mad man.

I hear the voices when I'm dreaming...

I can hear them say

Carry on my wayward son.

There'll be peace...When you are done.

Lay your weary head to rest.


Don't you cry no more.*


(*May be not be an original poem , may in fact be Kansas Lyrics.)

Now THAT is my kind of poetry. Very much along the lines of "Love bites. Love Bleeds. It's bringing me to my knees".
 

Disneyson 1

New Member
I wrote a particularly emotional story the other day...

The patient was silently twiddling her thumbs on the cold metal bench. The examining room was ordinary, to say the least. It consisted of toothpaste-green walls, the slow ticking of a clock over the wooden door, a scale, and several diagrams of the human body. She looked around in the windowless room. She looked at the picture of the gastrointestinal tract, the vision diagram, the skeleton, and the heart. The heart… that’s what worried her. She was afraid that she had something. Something nobody could ever cure. The Doctor walked in. There was a moment of awkward silence, she and he together in the room again. He sat into his rolling chair and began to twist around, avoiding the topic at hand. The patient gently put her hands on his thighs, steadying him. She looked him as he looked at her.

“So… what is it?”
“Nothing, it’s just…” replied the doctor.
“I mean, there must be something... right?”
The doctor began to shift around uncomfortably in his seat, and her hands became dislodged. She decided to put them in her lap. He said “Well… I just don’t know anymore. I mean… I can’t.”

The patient sat confused. “I don’t understand…” He sat at the edge of his chair and tried to explain: “There’s… nothing, alright? …Nothing.” She was not completely surprised, but more at a loss for words. “You… don’t have anything…” The Doctor repeated himself, very sure: “No, Cindy.”

Now Cindy began to feel another type of something. She felt it in the pit of her stomach. It was that something that she was afraid of all along. That something that made her feel horrible, that something that ultimately brought her to see The Doctor in the first place.

“I feel sick… is there something wrong with me?” The Doctor said “No, of course not, you’re perfectly-” Cindy insisted. “Yes, there IS something wrong with me. That must be why you don’t have anything… tell me.” The Doctor was wary. “Tell you… what?” “Tell me what’s wrong with me… you’re The Doctor.” “I said there’s nothing wrong with you… you’ll feel better soon, I promise.” “I’ll never feel better…” “Yes, you will…” “Never…” “Yes, Cindy…” The patient shoved The Doctor to the floor. “YOU’RE LYING!! TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG WHITH ME!!!!! I’ve been feeling the pains, not you! You’re The Doctor!” She paused, then looked down and drew back from The Doctor, afraid of herself. “You’re the one. You’re supposed to cure me.”

The Doctor was taken aback. He’d never seen Cindy that way. On the floor, he began to push himself up and turned his head. He said “Cindy, It’s not you.” Cindy was angry, and she began to feel that bad feeling again. “You’re just saying that! It IS me, it just IS!!!” Cindy cried onto the thin paper covering the bench. “It has to be… why else? Why else… why…” The Doctor stood over Cindy, and Cindy sat up. He began to speak:
“Cindy, I’m tired of this. Why can’t this visit just be over?” He looked at the clock, then at the lock on the door. He whispered into her ear as she continued to cry. “Your time in here is up. There’s someone else. Another patient, waiting. For me. She’ll be coming in any moment, so I suggest you leave.” He straightened his body and began walking to unlock the door. He muttered to himself: “There’s no way in hell I’m going to cure you.”

She wouldn’t be cured. Cindy rolled over like a dead pill bug, onto her back on the bench. Her voice was wavering. “I can’t leave.” He was calm and cold as he opened the door to the dark, empty hallway. She looked up at him. He said “Next patient, please.” “You’re the one…” “Next patient.” “…You’re my healer. I…” “Next.” She sat up on the bench and looked at him with tears in her eyes. “Please.” She said it a little quieter. “Please.” “NEXT!!!!!!!!” Cindy threw his hands aside and ran out of the room, sobbing. It turns out that the patient’s illness was terminal. Later that night, she died of a broken heart.
 

EPCOT Explorer

New Member
I wrote a particularly emotional story the other day...

The patient was silently twiddling her thumbs on the cold metal bench. The examining room was ordinary, to say the least. It consisted of toothpaste-green walls, the slow ticking of a clock over the wooden door, a scale, and several diagrams of the human body. She looked around in the windowless room. She looked at the picture of the gastrointestinal tract, the vision diagram, the skeleton, and the heart. The heart… that’s what worried her. She was afraid that she had something. Something nobody could ever cure. The Doctor walked in. There was a moment of awkward silence, she and he together in the room again. He sat into his rolling chair and began to twist around, avoiding the topic at hand. The patient gently put her hands on his thighs, steadying him. She looked him as he looked at her.

“So… what is it?”
“Nothing, it’s just…” replied the doctor.
“I mean, there must be something... right?”
The doctor began to shift around uncomfortably in his seat, and her hands became dislodged. She decided to put them in her lap. He said “Well… I just don’t know anymore. I mean… I can’t.”

The patient sat confused. “I don’t understand…” He sat at the edge of his chair and tried to explain: “There’s… nothing, alright? …Nothing.” She was not completely surprised, but more at a loss for words. “You… don’t have anything…” The Doctor repeated himself, very sure: “No, Cindy.”

Now Cindy began to feel another type of something. She felt it in the pit of her stomach. It was that something that she was afraid of all along. That something that made her feel horrible, that something that ultimately brought her to see The Doctor in the first place.

“I feel sick… is there something wrong with me?” The Doctor said “No, of course not, you’re perfectly-” Cindy insisted. “Yes, there IS something wrong with me. That must be why you don’t have anything… tell me.” The Doctor was wary. “Tell you… what?” “Tell me what’s wrong with me… you’re The Doctor.” “I said there’s nothing wrong with you… you’ll feel better soon, I promise.” “I’ll never feel better…” “Yes, you will…” “Never…” “Yes, Cindy…” The patient shoved The Doctor to the floor. “YOU’RE LYING!! TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG WHITH ME!!!!! I’ve been feeling the pains, not you! You’re The Doctor!” She paused, then looked down and drew back from The Doctor, afraid of herself. “You’re the one. You’re supposed to cure me.”

The Doctor was taken aback. He’d never seen Cindy that way. On the floor, he began to push himself up and turned his head. He said “Cindy, It’s not you.” Cindy was angry, and she began to feel that bad feeling again. “You’re just saying that! It IS me, it just IS!!!” Cindy cried onto the thin paper covering the bench. “It has to be… why else? Why else… why…” The Doctor stood over Cindy, and Cindy sat up. He began to speak:
“Cindy, I’m tired of this. Why can’t this visit just be over?” He looked at the clock, then at the lock on the door. He whispered into her ear as she continued to cry. “Your time in here is up. There’s someone else. Another patient, waiting. For me. She’ll be coming in any moment, so I suggest you leave.” He straightened his body and began walking to unlock the door. He muttered to himself: “There’s no way in hell I’m going to cure you.”

She wouldn’t be cured. Cindy rolled over like a dead pill bug, onto her back on the bench. Her voice was wavering. “I can’t leave.” He was calm and cold as he opened the door to the dark, empty hallway. She looked up at him. He said “Next patient, please.” “You’re the one…” “Next patient.” “…You’re my healer. I…” “Next.” She sat up on the bench and looked at him with tears in her eyes. “Please.” She said it a little quieter. “Please.” “NEXT!!!!!!!!” Cindy threw his hands aside and ran out of the room, sobbing. It turns out that the patient’s illness was terminal. Later that night, she died of a broken heart.
Goodness that's creepy.:lookaroun:lol:
 

rbrower

Well-Known Member
Original Poster
I wrote a particularly emotional story the other day...

The patient was silently twiddling her thumbs on the cold metal bench. The examining room was ordinary, to say the least. It consisted of toothpaste-green walls, the slow ticking of a clock over the wooden door, a scale, and several diagrams of the human body. She looked around in the windowless room. She looked at the picture of the gastrointestinal tract, the vision diagram, the skeleton, and the heart. The heart… that’s what worried her. She was afraid that she had something. Something nobody could ever cure. The Doctor walked in. There was a moment of awkward silence, she and he together in the room again. He sat into his rolling chair and began to twist around, avoiding the topic at hand. The patient gently put her hands on his thighs, steadying him. She looked him as he looked at her.

“So… what is it?”
“Nothing, it’s just…” replied the doctor.
“I mean, there must be something... right?”
The doctor began to shift around uncomfortably in his seat, and her hands became dislodged. She decided to put them in her lap. He said “Well… I just don’t know anymore. I mean… I can’t.”

The patient sat confused. “I don’t understand…” He sat at the edge of his chair and tried to explain: “There’s… nothing, alright? …Nothing.” She was not completely surprised, but more at a loss for words. “You… don’t have anything…” The Doctor repeated himself, very sure: “No, Cindy.”

Now Cindy began to feel another type of something. She felt it in the pit of her stomach. It was that something that she was afraid of all along. That something that made her feel horrible, that something that ultimately brought her to see The Doctor in the first place.

“I feel sick… is there something wrong with me?” The Doctor said “No, of course not, you’re perfectly-” Cindy insisted. “Yes, there IS something wrong with me. That must be why you don’t have anything… tell me.” The Doctor was wary. “Tell you… what?” “Tell me what’s wrong with me… you’re The Doctor.” “I said there’s nothing wrong with you… you’ll feel better soon, I promise.” “I’ll never feel better…” “Yes, you will…” “Never…” “Yes, Cindy…” The patient shoved The Doctor to the floor. “YOU’RE LYING!! TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG WHITH ME!!!!! I’ve been feeling the pains, not you! You’re The Doctor!” She paused, then looked down and drew back from The Doctor, afraid of herself. “You’re the one. You’re supposed to cure me.”

The Doctor was taken aback. He’d never seen Cindy that way. On the floor, he began to push himself up and turned his head. He said “Cindy, It’s not you.” Cindy was angry, and she began to feel that bad feeling again. “You’re just saying that! It IS me, it just IS!!!” Cindy cried onto the thin paper covering the bench. “It has to be… why else? Why else… why…” The Doctor stood over Cindy, and Cindy sat up. He began to speak:
“Cindy, I’m tired of this. Why can’t this visit just be over?” He looked at the clock, then at the lock on the door. He whispered into her ear as she continued to cry. “Your time in here is up. There’s someone else. Another patient, waiting. For me. She’ll be coming in any moment, so I suggest you leave.” He straightened his body and began walking to unlock the door. He muttered to himself: “There’s no way in hell I’m going to cure you.”

She wouldn’t be cured. Cindy rolled over like a dead pill bug, onto her back on the bench. Her voice was wavering. “I can’t leave.” He was calm and cold as he opened the door to the dark, empty hallway. She looked up at him. He said “Next patient, please.” “You’re the one…” “Next patient.” “…You’re my healer. I…” “Next.” She sat up on the bench and looked at him with tears in her eyes. “Please.” She said it a little quieter. “Please.” “NEXT!!!!!!!!” Cindy threw his hands aside and ran out of the room, sobbing. It turns out that the patient’s illness was terminal. Later that night, she died of a broken heart.
I like that! Very nice! :)
 

Disneyson 1

New Member
Thanks guys! I'm in this summer camp that does creative writing and just made this one day. Surprisingly, I've never really been in a major relationship or anything, but I imagined that's how it would feel. Does it work on both sides (Doctor and Lover)? Because I might just convert it into a 1 Act play to be preformed in school next year!
 

rbrower

Well-Known Member
Original Poster
Thanks guys! I'm in this summer camp that does creative writing and just made this one day. Surprisingly, I've never really been in a major relationship or anything, but I imagined that's how it would feel. Does it work on both sides (Doctor and Lover)? Because I might just convert it into a 1 Act play to be preformed in school next year!
Yeah, I think that it definitely works! I see it as a love that Cindy feels but the Doctor denies because of some unknown reason. Just a suggestion: Maybe you could write a little more and dive into a reason why the Doctor would forbid himself from loving Cindy. Maybe a dark secret he has. He could forbid himself from loving her because he doesn't want to hurt her, or something along those lines.

:)
 

Disneyson 1

New Member
^Yeah, that's the thought I had. But then I thought that if I said that, then the wonderful vagueness of it all would be ruined. I thought the end when "another patient" was revealed that that could have been the reason for the breakup. Ultimately, the reader/viewer should be satisfied, though. I'm not sure how to fit it into the end.
 

rbrower

Well-Known Member
Original Poster
^Yeah, that's the thought I had. But then I thought that if I said that, then the wonderful vagueness of it all would be ruined. I thought the end when "another patient" was revealed that that could have been the reason for the breakup. Ultimately, the reader/viewer should be satisfied, though. I'm not sure how to fit it into the end.
Oh, I see where you were going with it now. Sorry for my confusion. Is the doctor in a way a metaphor for a man who takes in Cindy and makes her feel better but then ends up leaving her for another "patient"?
 

rbrower

Well-Known Member
Original Poster
^Yup, you got it. Is there any way to be clearer about it without being TOO clear?

Hmm....you might want to add in some comments about the manner in which he is speaking and acting, trying to act more concealed from her and keeping to himself as much as possible. It's not something that you can really give away completely unless you state what you are getting at. Everyone will interpret it differently I believe, which is good. I like it a lot. :)
 

rbrower

Well-Known Member
Original Poster
Yeah, I kind of wanted that. Thanks for the advice. Now, do YOU have anything to share?
I actually have lots of stuff. Some of it is just...uh...under wraps for a little while. :lookaroun
:lol: Evan's the only one on here who has seen most of my stuff. :)

I'll post something in a little while. :)
 

rbrower

Well-Known Member
Original Poster
This Old Guitar

I am letting go.
Free falling, no idea where I am heading.
I can only see the sky and glimpses of what passes by.
All that I know is that I’m landing in your love.
I just want to be where you are.
Nothing else can tie me down now.
You decide my path, predict my journey.
My heart is racing the earth, orbiting around you.
I will gladly sit here and write for you.
I will sing you words of love, words of wisdom, words of my passion burning deep inside.
My fingers will strum on an old guitar, emotion spreading through every vein.
You are all that matters.
I need to be closer to where you are.
For you, I will do anything.
I will run across an open battlefield, facing danger with every stride that I take.
I will dance in a storm, kiss you on the sidewalk, let my love pour out with the rain.
I will cross jagged mountains if I have to, swim through the deep blue oceans.
I will even shed my own blood, just to hold you in my arms.
All that I need is you, your love, and this old guitar.
 

EPCOT Explorer

New Member
This Old Guitar

I am letting go.
Free falling, no idea where I am heading.
I can only see the sky and glimpses of what passes by.
All that I know is that I’m landing in your love.
I just want to be where you are.
Nothing else can tie me down now.
You decide my path, predict my journey.
My heart is racing the earth, orbiting around you.
I will gladly sit here and write for you.
I will sing you words of love, words of wisdom, words of my passion burning deep inside.
My fingers will strum on an old guitar, emotion spreading through every vein.
You are all that matters.
I need to be closer to where you are.
For you, I will do anything.
I will run across an open battlefield, facing danger with every stride that I take.
I will dance in a storm, kiss you on the sidewalk, let my love pour out with the rain.
I will cross jagged mountains if I have to, swim through the deep blue oceans.
I will even shed my own blood, just to hold you in my arms.
All that I need is you, your love, and this old guitar.
Very nice!:wave:


Is this why you want to learn how to play guitar?:lookaroun
 

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